I never win anything. Not competitions. Not arguments. Not affection from my own children.
Most days, I’m just getting through – dodging teenage sarcasm, scraping fishfingers off plates, wishing my husband would just notice me once in a while.
Then came the emails. Win a car! Win a holiday! Win a house!
Spam, obviously. I blocked them.
But then I heard the radio. A real dream-home giveaway.
And for one moment – stuck between roadworks and honking horns – I let myself want something.
I texted in.
And suddenly my whole life changed.
Now we’re living in a house bigger than my wildest dreams – and my darkest nightmares.
Because the threats started almost immediately. Someone congratulating me . . . by name.
Someone who knows about the mistake that ruined everything sixteen years ago.
They know the truth. They want something from me.
And if I don’t give it to them, my lucky break will become a death sentence.
