Not by Sara’s hand—not this time. The papers called it a “tragic swimming pool accident.” The police called it “inconclusive.” But Sara, who had survived two husbands and three stepchildren, called it what it was: a warning.
Then she handed the bottle to Sara.
The girl smiled. “I’m the new one.” The stepmother 3 sara stone
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. Not by Sara’s hand—not this time
“Sara? What’s all the noise?”
“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 girl smiled
She dropped the bottle. It shattered on the marble.