Emma is so happy to have moved from the city to her husband’s small hometown. James was strangely reluctant at first – but she convinced him their little cottage is the perfect place to settle down. The perfect place to give their six-year-old son a new life. But then a woman at the school gates asks Emma if she is really married to ‘that man’. ‘Which man?’ Emma asks. The woman replies…

After my beautiful daughter Annabelle died in a tragic accident, I thought I would never recover. With my world in pieces, my husband Matthew did what he could to support me and our son, Noah. He hired a young woman, Reka, to help us at home, to be the mother for Noah that I couldn’t be. She cares for him like he’s her own.

When Cassie Walsh returns to her small Minnesota hometown for her mother's funeral, she intends to leave as quickly as possible. But a shocking discovery in the basement freezer of her childhood home changes everything. The discovery of the body of Cassie's long-lost teenage crush in her mother's chest freezer shatters her world and forces her to confront a buried secret from fifteen years ago.

As I sit my beautiful blue-eyed boy Sam down on the bench outside the changing room, I’m certain today is going to be a better day. He can splash about with his pool toys without worrying about making too much noise, and I can take a break from tiptoeing around my husband Pete, who is becoming more distant every day.

It started out as a party: six little girls gliding and giggling at the ice rink to celebrate Natalie’s daughter’s eighth birthday. But by Natalie’s next head count, it’s turned into a crime scene. Six children went onto the ice—and now there are just five. Nobody saw her niece, Elle, being taken. Nobody saw the person in a cartoon costume lure her quietly away. Traumatised by what happened on her watch, Natalie spends the next decade supporting her sister, Jo, as the years since Elle’s abduction tick by.

Jen Cartwright returns from holiday to find her new next-door neighbour is Stacey Abbott, her childhood bully. It could be coincidence—but when Jen's close friends start to abandon her, and Jen's livelihood becomes threatened, it seems that the vendetta from the past has begun again. But why now, twenty years later? And if Stacey isn't to blame, then who is? Or is Jen inventing her own nightmares as her career and marriage seem to be foundering around her?

The invitation is anonymous. It doesn’t say whose funeral I must attend, only that I can’t afford to miss it. I’m sure it’s a mistake, but when I arrive, I know immediately it isn’t. The name on the gravestone stops me in my tracks: Alice Anderson. That’s my name. Or at least it was. I want to run from this crowd of slick designer clothes and sunglasses hiding prying eyes. But I can’t show my fear. I have no choice other than to stay and find out who sent the invitation. Someone here knows the secret I’d kill to keep.

In the sleepy coastal town of New Castle, New Hampshire, seventeen-year-old Billy Hasler's life is about to take a terrifying turn. When his best friend David Spivey inherits a mysterious house on a nearby island, it seems like the perfect place to spend their final summer before heading off to college. No parents. No police. No responsibilities. As they dig into the island's dark past, they awaken an ancient evil that has influenced generations. What begins as an innocent summer adventure quickly descends into a nightmare.

Nine months into motherhood, Elle is struggling. She’s battling being sidelined at work, fighting to feel at home in her post-baby body and feeling pressure to be intimate with her adoring husband, Dom. Why does everything seem so hard, especially when Dom is such a helpful, hands-on dad as well as an ever-attentive husband? Elle turns to her charismatic new colleague, Gabriel, to get through the day and red wine to soothe her at night. For a while, the distractions work until one night she wakes up bleary-eyed in a hotel room next to a man who’s not her husband. A dead man.

Madison March is the perfect wife, with the perfect family and the perfect life. She spends her days baking sourdough and picking vegetables from the garden while watching her children play in the fields surrounding her Montana homestead. Dinner is always on the table for her husband and they end their days sitting on the porch, watching the sun go down. It’s a life anyone would dream of. And it’s all a lie.

It is past 10 o’clock on a cold Friday night when Rebecca and her husband Jack’s doorbell rings. Outside is a woman who introduces herself as Jack’s ex-girlfriend, Cara. And she’s holding the hand of a shivering, blue-eyed, four-year-old girl who she claims is Jack’s daughter. Rebecca is shocked to discover he has a child from his last relationship - even one he hadn’t known about. Because becoming parents isn’t part of their life plan.

Charlotte and I argued so badly the last time we spoke. I was just worried about her, but she refused to hear me out. And now she’s lying pale, still and silent in a hospital bed. I’m convinced this was no accident: the police should be questioning her boyfriend, Freddie. I never thought he was good enough for her, but did he hurt my daughter? Guilt floods through me again and again. If we hadn’t argued, she wouldn’t have been with him today. If we hadn’t argued, I could have been there for her.

Gary and I have always been happy. Our fridge is covered in the love notes I leave him every morning, we always start the day on the doorstep with a goodbye kiss, and I make sure we never, ever fight. But since Gary’s sister Lisa moved in, things have been different… The day Lisa arrived at the school where I work, asking for help, I knew we had to welcome her into our home. Gary hasn’t spoken to his parents in years, and his childhood was far from perfect. But now every time Lisa enters a room, I watch him sneak out the door.

Thirty years ago, Laura’s mother, Viola, went missing. She left behind her purse, her keys and her mysterious paintings of a red house. Viola was never found, and her family never recovered. Laura, an artist herself, held on to the paintings. On the back of each work, her mother scrawled in Italian, “I will not be here forever.” The family never understood what Viola meant.

Two years after my beloved Jonah was killed in a car accident, I retrace my steps to the romantic hotel we were staying in when his life was cut tragically short. The last thing I remember is the warmth of his hand in mine as we drove off through the pine trees toward our candlelit dinner. Then the beeping of monitors when I woke up alone in a hospital bed days later. What really happened that night?