Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8X0EYATJWP4333KDGB9XEJ

The body lay crumpled at the foot of the grand staircase, still wearing the evening gown from last night's party. Detective Maria Santos ducked beneath the yellow tape and studied the scene with her sharp, practiced, and ever-observant dark eyes. The victim was Eleanor Ashworth, heiress to a vast fortune and host of the infamous charity gala held each December. No one had heard her fall, though dozens of guests had been sleeping in the mansion's many lavish guest rooms. A single crimson rose rested on the bottom step beside her outstretched hand, its petals still fresh and impossibly bright. Santos knelt down and noticed the faint bruising around Eleanor's neck, which the carefully draped silk scarf had nearly concealed. This was no accident, she whispered to her partner, who stood pale and trembling just beyond the marble foyer entrance. Somewhere above them, behind one of fourteen closed doors, a killer was waiting and pretending to sleep through the morning. The grandfather clock in the hallway struck seven, its deep chime echoing through the silent house like a mournful confession. Santos pulled on her gloves and began the grim work of unraveling the last terrible hours of Eleanor Ashworth's life.