In the dimly lit mansion, Detective Carter paced outside the decadent ballroom. The host, Thomas Blackwell, lay sprawled on the dance floor, a knife embedded in his chest. Guests scattered, eyes wide, murmurs escalating. Carter's partner, Mora, arrived, scanning the scene as the scent of champagne mingled with the acrid smell of blood. A crowded buffet remained untouched near the grand fireplace, candles flickering. A lone violinist ceased playing, his eyes locked on the lifeless body. A maid sobbed in the corner while a butler, Henry, quaked, clutching a wine glass. Two rival businessmen shared tense glances, each boasting motives, suspicions igniting passion's embers.