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.