Resurrection Support Group Meeting Room

A burner phone hidden in a gym bag. Forty-seven cryptic messages. A husband with secrets that don't add up.For Claire Westfield, what starts as a search for her insurance card becomes a descent into a world where death is negotiable and nothing is what it seems. Desperate for answers about her husband David's double life, Claire discovers an underground support group with an impossible purpose—helping people cope when their spouses fake their own deaths.These aren't grieving widows and widowers. They're abandoned partners left to pick up the pieces while their loved ones start over with new identities, new lives, and often new families.Posing as one of them, Claire enters their circle seeking the truth about David's intentions. But as she grows closer to the group members and their stories of betrayal, she realizes something is terribly wrong. Someone in the room isn't a victim. Someone is watching, waiting, and using the group's vulnerability as a hunting ground.As Claire races to separate truth from manipulation, she uncovers a conspiracy that transforms ordinary grief into a deadly game. The evidence points in impossible directions. The people she should trust have the most to hide. And David's secrets are just the beginning of a nightmare that will force Claire to question everything she knows about loyalty, loss, and how far someone will go to disappear forever.With each revelation, the danger intensifies, and Claire must decide who to believe before someone else vanishes permanently.For fans of psychological thrillers with unreliable narrators and twisted plots, Resurrection Support Group Meeting Room delivers suspense that will keep you guessing until the explosive final pages.---Sample Extract:The gym bag had always been David's. Claire had never opened it—not in four years of marriage, not even when she'd washed his kit after the marathon and he'd been too exhausted to move. It sat in the corner of the wardrobe like a sleeping animal, dark and familiar. She told herself she was looking for the insurance documents. She told herself that for approximately eleven seconds.The burner phone was at the bottom, beneath a layer of compression shorts and a roll of athletic tape. It wasn't even hidden, not really. Just... there. Like he'd stopped caring, or like he'd wanted her to find it.Forty-seven messages. All from the same number. All deleted except for one.See you Thursday. The usual place. Don't tell her.Claire sat down on the wardrobe floor and read it three times. Then she read it a fourth time, as if the words might change. They didn't.