She spent fifteen years building a life inside her blindness - a ceramics studio, a language of texture and heat, a self that did not need to see. Then a cornea transplant gave her something she hadn't asked for.
The visions start small. A flicker in a candle flame. A hand on a cracked phone screen at the edge of sleep. They grow with cold, deliberate purpose - because the eyes she received do not simply see. They remember.
Claire Hennessey was pushed from a parking garage eight months ago. Her killer still walks free: a silver-haired man of careful habit and philanthropic reputation who left no witnesses. Or so he believed.
Now Claire's final image is surfacing - fragment by fragment - inside borrowed sight. And the man at the center of that image is beginning to feel watched.
He has always known the most dangerous threat is a witness who doesn't yet understand what they've seen.
She's starting to understand.
A haunting, atmospheric horror novel about inherited memory, fractured identity, and the terrifying cost of seeing clearly. Don't look away - get your copy now.