The morning fog rolled through Millbrook's empty streets, revealing Detective Sarah Chen standing over the wealthy businessman's lifeless body sprawled there. Victor Ashworth lay face-down on his marble foyer floor, his expensive silk pajamas stained with dark blood from the fatal wound. The mansion's front door stood wide open, letting autumn wind scatter yellow leaves across the crime scene like nature's own evidence markers. Sarah crouched beside the victim, noting the ornate letter opener protruding from his back between his shoulder blades at an angle. "No signs of forced entry," Officer Martinez reported, his breath visible in the cold air as he surveyed the undisturbed security system. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed seven times, its deep bronze notes echoing through rooms filled with priceless art and furniture. Sarah's trained eyes swept the scene methodically, searching for clues among overturned furniture and shattered crystal glasses scattered across expensive Persian rugs. A half-empty brandy snifter sat on the mahogany side table, lipstick stains marking the rim where someone had sipped the liquid. The victim's wife stood in the doorway, her pale face streaked with tears as she clutched a silk robe tightly around herself. "He was alive when I went to bed last night," Mrs. Ashworth whispered, her voice trembling with what seemed like genuine shock.