The Stepmother 3 Sara Stone Apr 2026

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

“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?”

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 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 stepmother 3 sara stone

Then she handed the bottle to Sara.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” Sara said, mastering her voice. “But I had nothing to do with—”

Sara had one second to decide: villain or savior. Then she screamed for help—loud enough for the

“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.”

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.

A floorboard creaked above her. Not the settling of old wood. The careful, deliberate step of someone who knew exactly where to press. Then she died

Her stepdaughter, Chloe, was dead.

The girl smiled. “I’m the new one.”

You think you’ve won, Sara. But I learned from the best. —C.