Paris, 1860s.

Behind the counter of a dim little drapery shop, a young woman stands very still. Her name is Thérèse Raquin. She was given away as a child, married off without choice, and buried alive in quiet duty. The world believes her mild. The world is wrong.

There is something fierce and almost feral living under her calm surface — a hunger that has been starved for years. When it finally wakes, it does not ask permission. It does not settle for half-measures. It consumes.

She has known a husband who never truly saw her.

She has known a lover who set her on fire and then left her cold.

But the way she looks at you is different.

This is not a gentle romance.

This is the story of a woman who has spent her entire life locked in a sickroom of the soul... and has just realized you may be the only one who can dig her out.

Or bury her deeper.