The old mansion stood silently at the end of Blackwood Lane, its windows dark against the cold, grey November sky overhead. Detective Sarah Chen arrived at precisely seven fifteen that morning, her boots crunching on the gravel driveway leading to the door. A single light flickered in the upstairs bedroom window, casting eerie shadows that danced like restless ghosts across the frozen lawn. The butler had discovered the body at dawn, slumped over the mahogany desk in the study with a knife nearby him. Lord Ashworth had been a powerful man with many enemies, yet nobody expected to find him murdered inside his own home. Blood stained the oriental carpet beneath the desk, pooling in a dark crimson circle that told a story of terrible violence. Sarah pulled on her latex gloves carefully and stepped through the heavy oak doorway into the room where death now lingered quietly. The victim's eyes were still open wide, frozen in an expression of pure shock, as though he recognized his own killer. On the desk beside his cold right hand lay a torn photograph showing four people standing together at some long ago party. Sarah knew immediately that this case would be different from anything she had ever investigated before in her long distinguished career ahead.