Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFE64WCZ5W144C2D063ACG

The rain lashed against the windowsof the isolated Victorian house. Eleanor Vance lay still on the polished oak floor. A single, perfect rose rested beside her hand. Detective Aris Thorne arrived, his trench coat dripping. He noted the lack of forced entry. The room smelled of old perfume and dust. A half-empty glass of brandy sat on the side table. The window was slightly ajar. Outside, the storm raged on. Thorne knelt beside the body. He checked for a pulse, finding none. The victim wore a simple black dress. Her hair was neatly pinned up. A faint bruise marred her jawline. Thorne’s gaze swept the room. Nothing seemed out of place. Yet, something felt wrong. He noticed a small, unfamiliar key on the floor. It wasn’t hers. The clock on the mantelpiece had stopped. Thorne’s mind raced. Who would want Eleanor Vance dead? Why here? Why now? The mystery deepened with every passing second.