Connie can't deny she's nervous about meeting her boyfriend's family. Spending the weekend at their ritzy woodland summer home, Evan's already given her fair warning that his parents are cold, snobbish, and especially unpleasant toward those outside their usual social circles. So when Evan's mother warmly greets them with open arms, Connie is as confused as he is. They're so friendly, in fact, Evan himself can hardly believe they're real. Then, while helping Evan's mother with dinner, Connie overhears strange noises coming from the basement—what almost sounds like voices calling out for help.

ME: Staring down at the sweet baby in my arms, I feel panic instead of love. Because this isn’t the child I gave birth to. My husband whispers to the midwife. They all think I’m going crazy. But the tiny boy in my arms is crying again. I’m certain: he knows I’m not his mummy. And I’ll do whatever it takes to get my son back.

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 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.

This is the day my life changes forever. It started so normally. The alarm went at 7am. My husband made bacon and pancakes for me and our seven-year-old daughter, the kitchen full of chatter and laughter. He gave me a quick kiss, told me he loved me, grabbed his wallet, and rushed off to work. Just an ordinary day. Until I get the call from the school. It was Tom’s turn to pick up our daughter. He must be held up for some reason. I find Tom’s phone under our bed. Now I know there’s something seriously wrong. I scroll through his messages. A text sent late last night: I KNOW EVERYTHING.