Rain drummed steadily against the windows of Hawthorn Manor tonight. A clock chimed midnight, echoing through the darkened grand hallway. Guests lingered anxiously, casting nervous glances at one another. Lightning illuminated the portrait of stern-faced Lord Archibald Crane. Mrs. Blackwell, the housekeeper, entered, carrying a silver tray. A crash erupted from the library, causing everyone to startle. Colonel Wright’s cane clattered loudly as he hobbled toward danger. Miss Lydia gasped, clutching her necklace tightly in trembling hands. Behind the library door, silence pressed, heavy as velvet night. Then, a piercing scream shattered the hush, chilling every soul.