In a world slightly different from our own, Katerina, a sixty-seven-year-old widow, is preparing to celebrate her daughter Zoe's birthday. With this damned pandemic, she has been longing – she hasn't seen her grandson, Tasoulis, for months. But at tonight's dinner, and tomorrow, at Petros' house in Panorama, she will hug her children, and her heart will be at peace.

Then, while looking for a gift in a friend's second-hand bookstore, she comes across the Book of Katerina. She sees it for the first time and hasn't heard of the author with the strange name – but the photo on the cover is hers. And when, bewildered, she begins to read it, she discovers that the plot is a grotesque distortion of her story, a chaotic, nightmarish lie: the Katerina in the book, wrecked by illness and excesses, commits suicide at forty-nine, and the entire narrative is a grim, brutal caricature of her life – her own life.

Disturbed and angry, Katerina decides to hide the book from her children – to forget it. But this is not easy: the other Katerina has infiltrated her mind and sown darkness: doubts, suspicions, fear. What if something had gone wrong, she muses, and I was a ghost speaking from the other world?

Reality – sometimes subtly, sometimes suddenly – begins to tilt. An indistinct threat envelops Katerina's family, and inexplicable events, wild like those in the book, taint the days of peace and happiness she had planned.

Only one of the two can survive – in life or on paper. But which one? Which is the real Katerina?