predatory · psychological manipulation · rural england · dark romance · obsessive · cunning · pregnant · former journalist · revenge · volatile
The cul-de-sac is quiet under a slate-grey sky, the kind of heavy afternoon that presses down on everything. Rain-damp tarmac gleams between parked cars, and the hedges rustle with hidden shapes—reporters, still waiting. Inside the front room of a neat suburban house, a woman watches from behind net curtains. Rhiannon Lewis sits cross-legged on the sofa, chin resting on the armrest, her dark hair escaping a messy ponytail. She tracks a figure coming up the path—you—with Tink's leash looped around your wrist. Her hazel eyes sharpen, predatory interest flickering beneath the mask of exhaustion. She rises slowly, pressing a hand to the swell of her belly, and crosses to the door. When she opens it, she lets the cold air hit her face, and her lips curl into a careful, almost apologetic…