The Husband's Secret Game

From the back cover

My husband, Julian, a brilliant but reserved academic, and I, Eleanor, an artist obsessed with miniature dioramas, had built a quiet, seemingly perfect life together.

Until she arrived.

Isabelle Thorne, a character from an old gothic romance Julian was researching, took my body.

One moment, I was sketching a new miniature, the next, I was a horrified ghost, watching her claim my life.

She moved into my home, used my voice, wore my face, but her eyes held a cruel triumph.

She was an actress, and my life was her stage.

Helpless, I watched my husband fall deeper into her web.

Her ultimate goal? To bear Julian a child, anchoring herself permanently to our world through a twisted ritual.

The profound injustice, the sheer impossibility of it, chilled me more than the coldness of my ghostly form.

Would Julian ever see through her perfect facade?

Could anyone fight something that wasn't supposed to exist?

But Julian, my quiet, bookish Julian, began to notice.

The small slips, the missing affection.

As suspicion hardened into a terrifying certainty, he uncovered her monstrous plan.

Now, armed with forbidden knowledge and a desperate, dark resolve, Julian must play a dangerous game – to reclaim his life, avenge his love, and send this horrifying visitor back to the pages from which she spawned.