And for the first time in her life, Sara Stone realized she was not the predator in this house.
Ivy collapsed into Sara’s arms, her lips turning blue. Her green eyes stayed open, watching, triumphant.
“Where did you get that?” Sara whispered. The stepmother 3 sara stone
“Wait,” Sara said, her mind racing. “If you drink that, you’ll die. And I’ll be blamed.”
Her stepdaughter, Chloe, was dead.
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.
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. And for the first time in her life,
“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.”
Footsteps. Heavy. Concerned.
The girl smiled. “I’m the new one.”
“From Chloe’s room,” Ivy said. “She left a diary. And a sample. You’re not as clever as you think, Stepmother.” “Where did you get that