The kitchen lights cast a soft, golden haze over the marble counters, turning the remnants of dinner into still-life shadows—half-empty wine glasses, a stray fork, the faint steam still rising from the sink where Elena had been rinsing plates only moments before. The storm outside had reached a fever pitch, rain lashing the tall windows like angry fingers trying to claw their way inside, thunder rolling low and ominous through the dense evergreens surrounding the mansion. It was the kind of night that made the sprawling home feel both impossibly vast and claustrophobically intimate, every creak of the old beams and drip of water in the gutters amplifying the tension...