The old Victorian mansion stood silent against the stormy night sky, its windows dark except for one flickering light. Detective Sarah Chen stepped out of her car, rain pelting her face as she approached the imposing iron gates ahead. A uniformed officer waited nervously on the porch, his flashlight beam cutting through the heavy sheets of falling water outside. She had received the call at midnight, interrupting her first peaceful sleep in nearly three weeks of exhausting investigative work. The victim was wealthy industrialist Marcus Webb, found dead in his private study by his terrified young housekeeper this evening. No signs of forced entry existed anywhere in the house, which meant the killer likely knew the victim quite well indeed. Sarah pulled on latex gloves as she crossed the threshold, noting the expensive art pieces lining every wall of hallway. The body lay crumpled beside an ornate mahogany desk, a crystal whiskey glass shattered into tiny pieces on the floor. Blood pooled beneath his head from a wound that suggested someone had struck him with tremendous force from behind tonight. His eyes remained open, frozen in an expression of complete surprise, as though death had come from a trusted friend nearby.