Rain tapped the windowpane as clocks struck midnight. The old mansion loomed like a secret long buried underground. Footsteps echoed down the hall, soft yet unmistakably deliberate. A candle flickered once, then died without a witness. Silk gloves rested neatly beside a silver-handled knife. No scream broke the silence—only the wind dared speak. Dust swirled in moonlight cutting across the study floor. The portrait’s eyes seemed to follow whoever entered slowly. A ledger lay open, its final entry written in haste. One name was underlined thrice, smeared with something darker.