𝗦𝗢 𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 𝗟𝗘𝗙𝗧 𝗨𝗡𝗦𝗔𝗜𝗗

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 - and death followed them like a shadow. While many passed from sickness, disease, or age, others were claimed by fire, flood, or collision.

Roxanne "Roxie" Montgomery died by murder.

They found her in her recording studio - a small room decorated with soft lights and personal photos, every detail handpicked to reflect her. The scent of vanilla still lingered, now tainted by the metallic of blood. Death.

There were three stab wounds.

One to the chest, straight to the heart.
One to the back, as if she had turned to run.
And one to her throat, silencing her forever.

She'd been working late that night. Everyone said so afterward. She was always the last to leave.

There were no signs of forced entry. No fingerprints. No answers.

Only questions.

And a city that wouldn't stop whispering her name.

Maybe that's why, instead of moving on to the great green field in the sky, she came back as a ghost - a spirit left to wander for over fifty years, with no rest and nothing to do. Peace was never hers.

Roxie came back.

Not as the woman she once was, but as something else entirely - untouchable, unseen. A ghost bound to the earth where her voice once impacted, now nothing more than a cold draft in an empty room.

Her case eventually went cold. The music industry moved on without her, new stars rising like she never existed.

But the studio remained.
And so did she.

Waiting.

Not for fame.

For justice.

Because someone killed Roxie Montgomery. And she wasn't leaving until someone knew why and who it was.

𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗗 : 𝗝𝗨𝗟𝗬 𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗬 𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗛
𝗣𝗨𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗗 : 𝗝𝗨𝗟𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗘𝗧𝗛
𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗗 :