The Guest Who Won't Wake

You all came for the reading of a fortune, and now the host is slumped cold over the head of the table, wine still on his lips. The storm took the road out an hour ago; nobody leaves this house before dawn, and dawn is four hours away. Each of you was alone with him at some point tonight — and each of you had a reason to want the will changed. The poured glasses don't add up: someone switched a seat, someone lied about the timeline. The fire is dying and the phone line is cut. Trade your alibis, tear apart each other's stories, and name the poisoner before the storm clears and the guilty one walks free.