Alice Faraday was never meant to be Alice. She was a stand-in, a ghost in someone else's shadow, a near-perfect imitation of Angela Stryker—the girl Percy Bennett worshipped but could never have.

Percy owns her. Pays for her school, her house, her food, the very air she breathes. In return, he dictates everything—how she dresses, how she moves, how she smiles. Even her thoughts belong to Angela. Alice doesn't fight it. Can't fight it. She tells herself she's fine with it, that maybe, maybe if she becomes Angela enough, Percy will finally look at her and see her.

Then comes the nightmare. The same one, over and over—a vision of obsession, of madness, of her own brutal, inevitable death.

Alice wakes up gasping, drenched in sweat, and for the first time in years, she questions everything. If she keeps chasing Percy, if she keeps moulding herself into Angela's ghost, will she end up like the Alice in her nightmare?

It's time to escape. Time to become herself. But Percy doesn't let go of his toys easily.

She has to find help.