Rosie and Chad Lowan are barely making ends meet in New York City when they receive life-changing news: Chad’s late uncle has left them his luxury apartment at the historic Windermere in glamorous Murray Hill. With its prewar elegance and impeccably uniformed doorman, the building is the epitome of old New York charm. One would almost never suspect the dark history lurking behind its perfectly maintained facade.

Low Morrison is not your average teen. You could blame her hippie parents or her looming height or her dreary, isolated hometown on an island in the Pacific Northwest. But whatever the reason, Low just doesn’t fit in - and neither does Freya, a once-famous social media influencer who now owns the pottery studio in town. After signing up for a class, Low quickly falls under Freya’s spell. And Freya, buoyed by Low’s adoration, is compelled to share her darkest secrets and deepest desires. Finally, both feel a sense of belonging...that is, until Jamie walks through the studio door.

My life has never been better. I have a beautiful little girl, and I am engaged to be married to the man I’ve had a crush on since I can remember. So when Nick, my handsome fiancé, announces that his sister Carla is finally coming home, it’s truly the icing on the cake. That was twelve years ago, and no one has seen her since. Everyone is ecstatic about Carla’s return. But as I spend more time with her, I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right. Her behavior is a little off, her childhood memories don't align with mine, and she's oddly evasive about her lost years.

Your husband was involved in a fatal accident. One horrific sentence, delivered in an impersonal phone call, changes Celine Thompson’s life in a second. But when she’s asked to identify his body, what she discovers sends everything she thought she knew about her life crashing down. This man is not my husband. But who was the man who died driving Tate’s car? How did he have Tate’s possessions and, more importantly, why do they sport identical tattoos?

‘My name is Darcy, I’m your nurse and I’m here to help you.’ I repeat the words I’ve said so many times. Except this time, I don’t mean it… If you saw me walking down the street, you’d think I was pretty ordinary–I wear the typical crisp, white nursing uniform, my hands are scrubbed clean and you’d have no reason to believe I was anything other than a good citizen. A good nurse. But looks can be deceiving. You shouldn’t trust me–because I don’t even know if I can trust myself.