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.