The rain fell in relentless sheets, each drop striking the city like a sharp tap on glass. Lightning fractured the night sky, illuminating the towering skyline of steel and glass. Far above the bustle of the streets, the opulent penthouse of Vincent Harris stood like a lighthouse on a stormy sea—brilliant, aloof, and unreachable.

Inside, the grandeur was as stifling as it was impressive. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen explosions overhead, their sharp edges glinting with every flash of lightning. Plush Persian rugs muffled the sounds of footsteps, and priceless art adorned the walls like trophies of conquest. Every piece, every surface, every line spoke of wealth—unapologetic, unrelenting wealth.

But wealth could not buy invulnerability.

Vincent Harris lay motionless in the center of the room, his eyes wide with shock, as though frozen in the moment of his final revelation. His silk robe, once a symbol of his power, was now a shroud. His right hand clutched a Fabergé egg—a masterpiece of enamel, gold, and gemstones—as if it were his most cherished possession.

Blood seeped from a thin, precise wound at the base of his neck, a single crimson thread that trailed across the marble floor. The rain's drumming was distant from here, muffled by bulletproof glass, but inside the penthouse, silence reigned.

Detective Rachel Marlowe arrived moments later, her coat soaked and her mind sharp despite the late hour. Her eyes scanned the room—the body, the egg, the blood—her mind already fitting pieces into place. She'd seen murder scenes like this before, but something about this one made her pause. It wasn't the luxury. It wasn't even the wealth of the victim. It was the stillness. Not just the stillness of death—something more. Like the air itself was holding its breath.

Her eyes shifted to the wall across from the body, and there it was.

A symbol, drawn in something dark and wet. A chess pawn.

She felt a chill that had nothing to do with the rain-soaked clothes clinging to her back. This wasn't just a murder. It was a move.

And she'd just stepped onto the board.