A stranger wrote the perfect murder. Now Felicity has to survive the ending.
The first chapter felt familiar. The second felt impossible.
Felicity Sanderson doesn’t know who left the anonymous psychological thriller on her nightstand. She assumes it’s a forgotten library book or a misplaced gift until she starts reading.
The fictional wife lives in a secluded glass house surrounded by woods.
She arranges her kitchen the same way Felicity does. She drinks the same tea. She laughs at the same private joke. She even blushes when her husband calls her by the intimate nickname only the two of them should know.
At first, the similarities are unsettling.
Then they become terrifying.
Because every chapter reveals another secret from Felicity’s marriage—memories, conversations, and moments that no stranger should know. Someone has been watching her life.
Or worse...
Someone has been writing it.
Tucker insists they’re coincidences. His lifelong best friend, Brianne, gently reminds Felicity that once you start looking for patterns, you’ll find them everywhere. But the deeper Felicity falls into the novel, the harder it becomes to dismiss the truth.
The wife in the story isn’t just living Felicity’s life.
She’s dying it.
Then the impossible begins to spill beyond the pages.
Objects appear where Felicity never left them.
Impossible accidents occur. And every frantic attempt to convince Tucker that something is horribly wrong only seems to confirm what the novel has been implying all along—that she’s becoming increasingly paranoid, increasingly obsessed, increasingly impossible to believe.
The more desperately Felicity searches for whoever wrote the book, the more isolated she becomes. The people she trusts begin questioning her memory. Her judgment. Even her sanity. And somewhere in the shadows, the author seems to be waiting for reality to catch up with the final chapters.
Because this was never just a psychological thriller.
It was a blueprint.
And if Felicity can’t uncover who’s writing the ending before her own life reaches the final page, she’ll discover that the most dangerous stories aren’t the ones we read...
They’re the ones someone is determined to make come true.
