My mother is obsessed with every detail of my wedding–controlling my dress, my ring, my happiness. But when the day finally comes, will she really let me go?

I haven’t lived here long. The house is small and a little run-down, but each piece of faded floral wallpaper I peel away feels like unwrapping the second chance I never thought I’d get. I’m finally free to wear what I want, and I don’t flinch when I accidently burn dinner. My new home is warm, and the kids are safe inside. Anywhere would feel idyllic after the nightmare marriage I’ve just escaped.

Ava only left her daughter in the pushchair for five minutes. The buckle was fastened, and she was sure it was safe. But when she came downstairs, the door was open and Abi was gone - she walked down the road, past the Lovegoods' house, and was never seen again. A year later, the Lovegoods throw a housewarming party, showing off the results of their renovation. Ava doesn’t want to go. She can’t bear to look down that end of the road, to see the place where Abi vanished, and she doesn’t want to spend time with people who don’t share her grief. 

I could tell when my son started hiding things from me. He used to walk to school with a mischievous grin on his beautiful face. Now he avoids eye contact and keeps his head down. Since I discovered he’s being bullied by a classmate, I’ve spent every day worrying, my stomach churning with anxiety from the moment he leaves the house to the second he walks back through the door. Everyone keeps telling me I’m overreacting, but I won’t risk my child’s safety. My husband and I try to talk to the other boy’s parents, but it only makes things worse. Then our precious child is hurt. Enough is enough.

You’ve been excited about this getaway for months–at last, a chance to reconnect with your husband at a secluded island resort. But when he unexpectedly calls you from the beach, you hear the urgency in his voice. Something is very wrong. The beautiful waitress from the restaurant last night has been found lying dead in the sand. And the police want to question your husband about it. Sure, you saw him glance at her over dinner a few times, but you know he didn’t have anything to do with the poor girl’s death.