The manor stood silently waiting. Rain hammered the stone walls. Detective Sarah Chen arrived late. Her coat dripped onto marble. Lightning illuminated the grand entrance. A butler opened the door. His face was deathly pale. "Lord Ashworth is quite dead," he whispered through thin lips. Sarah stepped into the foyer. Candles flickered in the darkness. Shadows danced across oil paintings. The air smelled of cigars. And something else: bitter almonds. Upstairs, a woman was screaming. Footsteps echoed through empty hallways. Sarah climbed the winding staircase. Her hand touched cold mahogany. The body lay face down. Blood pooled on Persian carpet. Six guests stood frozen, watching. Each face held dark secrets. One of them was guilty. The clock struck midnight precisely. The investigation would now begin.