The Stepmother 3 Sara Stone Today

She descended slowly, her bare feet silent on the steps. She wore a white nightgown—the same brand Sara bought for Chloe three Christmases ago. The girl stopped one step above Sara, so they were eye to eye.

The girl smiled. “I’m the new one.”

“My name is Ivy,” the girl said. “My mother married your husband’s brother. Then she died. Funny how that happens around you, isn’t it?” The stepmother 3 sara stone

Sara’s blood chilled. Richard, her current husband, had mentioned a niece. An orphan. Coming to stay for “a few weeks.” He hadn’t mentioned she looked like Chloe’s vengeful twin.

Sara stared at the bottle. Then at the girl. Then at the staircase, where Richard’s study door was opening. She descended slowly, her bare feet silent on the steps

“Please.” Ivy laughed, a tinkling, awful sound. “Save it. I’ve read all about you. The first stepmother who fell down the stairs. The second stepmother who ‘lost her way’ in the woods. You’re a pattern, Sara. And I’m the one who breaks patterns.”

Then she screamed for help—loud enough for the neighbors to hear, loud enough for Richard, loud enough for God. The girl smiled

But as the paramedics rushed in and Ivy was carried away on a stretcher, the girl reached up and grabbed Sara’s wrist. Her grip was iron.

She found the letter on the marble foyer floor, tucked beneath a vase of wilting lilies. The handwriting was hers. Or rather, a perfect copy of hers.

Sara looked up the spiral staircase. At the top, bathed in the blue glow of a chandelier, stood a girl of about fourteen. Same sharp cheekbones. Same cold, green eyes. But not Chloe.

“From Chloe’s room,” Ivy said. “She left a diary. And a sample. You’re not as clever as you think, Stepmother.”