Long blonde hair. Sparkling dark eyes. Perfect pearly white teeth. I’ve never met her before, but I know exactly who she is as I spot her through the crowds of the terminal. Because our new guest is the spitting image of the daughter we lost. And that’s exactly why I chose her.

The moment I first gazed into Alex's soulful gray eyes, I knew I'd met the man I wanted to spend my life with. And I was right. When my beloved sister vanished, Alex put up posters and wiped away my tears after bad dream—she put me back together. But when police pull a crumpled photo from my dead sister's pocket, and I see my husband's familiar face smiling back at me, my perfect world shatters.

I stare at the messages between my husband Rob and another woman, their plans to run away together bringing tears to my eyes as I stand, trembling, in our luxurious apartment. I thought I had the perfect marriage. As our three beautiful children sleep soundly in the next room, I think about our family holidays, our romantic date nights, and the day Rob proposed to me. In the last few months, I haven’t complained about his late-night meetings or got jealous about his weekends away. I trusted my husband. But now I’m questioning everything.

The day I was told I’d never be able to have a child, my world came crashing down. My husband says he still loves me, but I lie awake at night, wishing we could have a family. One morning, my husband’s side of the bed is cold and empty. I hear a noise and head downstairs. In the middle of the rug in my living room is a wooden drawer. Swaddled inside, with perfect rosy cheeks and beautiful round blue eyes, a baby gazes up at me.

I open the front door and there’s Amy, smiling sweetly and ready to help. She’s been a lifesaver since Jon and I moved here–from walking the dog to picking up my little son Teddy from nursery last minute. I’m so lucky we met in the playground the first day we arrived. Amy is more than just a good friend. My only friend, really. Whenever Amy and Jon exchange glances I’m sure it seems like they’ve met before, even though Jon swears they haven’t. But then again Jon recognises lots of people from his childhood round here without truly knowing them.

Every Monday, I meet my writing group in a warm, lively bar to drink a glass of wine or two and share our work. It’s the highlight of my week. I don’t go out much, otherwise. For the last ten years, every time I’ve relaxed, the messages have started again. The black hearts. They’re a warning to remember, as if I could ever forget. Whoever sent them wants to hurt me. They’ve lost me jobs and boyfriends. Is it any wonder I like to hide in fiction?

I thought handsome, charming Blake would be the perfect fit for my quiet and sweet-natured friend Melanie. Widowed far too young, she deserved a second chance at love. So, when he proposed so soon after I set them up on a date, I convinced myself that the timing was just right. But I should have stopped it. I tried to ignore Blake’s controlling behavior. It started small; telling her not to have a glass of champagne to celebrate their engagement, putting cameras up around her house for “safety”. But Mel seemed so happy and in love, I couldn’t bring myself to share my creeping doubts.

It’s so kind of our neighbours to throw this party welcoming us to our new home. My husband and I finally moved to the right place. A happy, safe street where nobody knows about my mistakes. But I soon learn their smiling faces hide even deadlier secrets… As I take in the little plates of sandwiches arranged over checked tablecloths, the lavish cocktails, and children playing, I finally feel happy in my new home with Owen. I love hearing the gossip from the local families; the whispers about which wives I should avoid, and which husbands sneak out at night.

I’m in shock. This is impossible. Because earlier this evening when the Smiths left for their fancy charity gala—Lara in high heels and a floor-length gown, Corbin in a tux—they never mentioned a baby. And they certainly didn’t show me this nursery room, up in the eaves of their sprawling, beachfront mansion.

I’ll do anything to keep my daughter. But so will my husband… As I look across the courtroom at the man I once shared everything with, I can’t believe it’s come to this. I can see in his eyes: he is here to destroy me. But I can’t let him have our little girl. We swore to keep our divorce civil, for Lola. We agreed to put her first and keep her safe. Then the lawyers got involved, and all our promises went up in smoke.