All Chapters of The Sweetest Stepmom: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The baby monitor clicked off, plunging the dark hallway back into a dead, suffocating silence. Ethan stood frozen, his hand still gripping the plastic casing of the monitor so tightly his knuckles were white. The words from the speaker.The real monster has been baking you pancakes,echoed in the quiet, twisting the fragile peace of the last hour into a nightmare. "Ethan," Amelia whispered, her voice trembling. "Tell me it's a lie. Tell me she's manipulating his memories." Ethan didn't answer immediately. He set the monitor down on the hallway table with a shaking hand, his ice-blue eyes darkening into a look of pure, unadulterated fury. "I don't know," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "But we're about to find out." He turned and sprinted down the hall toward the master suite, where Daniel had retired for the night. Amelia followed close behind, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The thought of Daniel,the man who had just embraced them, who had crie

The heavy steel door of Room 402 hissed shut behind Amelia, sealing her inside the dim, sterile quiet of the hospital room. The air smelled of antiseptic and something else, something faintly metallic, like copper and old ozone. In the center of the room, bathed in the pale blue glow of the heart monitors, sat the Original Amelia. She looked exactly like Amelia. She had the same warm brown eyes, the same slight curve to her jaw, the same dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. But the way she sat was entirely wrong. Her spine was rigid, her hands resting perfectly flat on her knees, her breathing shallow and entirely mechanical. In her lap, fast asleep and completely unaware of the monster holding him, was Noah. "You came alone," the Original Amelia said. Her voice was Amelia’s voice, but stripped of all its warmth, flattened into a cold, aristocratic drawl. "I knew you would. You’re a baker, Amelia. You fix things. You can’t resist a broken recipe.""Let him go," Ameli

Amelia stood in the bathroom, her hand gripping the cold metal of the surgical scissors. Her reflection in the mirror was smiling, but her real mind was screaming in absolute terror. Get out, Amelia Carter thought, pushing against the invisible walls of her own skull. That is my hand. That is my body. Not anymore, the Original Amelia purred in her mind. Her voice echoed through the neural pathways, smooth and cold. We are sharing now, darling. But I am driving. Amelia watched in horror as her own feet turned away from the sink. Her body moved with a fluid, predatory grace that she had never possessed. She walked out of the bathroom and into the quiet, dimly lit hospital room. Ethan was asleep in the chair beside her bed, his head resting on the mattress, his hand loosely holding hers. The sight of him made the real Amelia's heart ache. Ethan, she screamed in her mind. Wake up. Please, wake up. She is going to hurt Noah. She is going to hurt you. But her physical mouth remained s

The morgue was cold, silent, and completely dark, save for the faint, rhythmic blinking of the climate control monitors. On the steel slab, the physical vessel of the Original Amelia lay perfectly still. The toe tag on her left foot fluttered slightly as the ventilation system kicked on. Her chest did not rise. Her heart did not beat. To any observer, she was undeniably dead. But inside the dark, digital void of her own mind, the Original Amelia was screaming. She had been cast out of the baker's mind, pushed back into the cold, suffocating prison of the clone body. But the baker's love for the boy had triggered a massive neural feedback loop, frying the primary consciousness bridge. The Original Amelia was trapped in a dead brain, waiting for the biological rejection to finally claim her. Then, a sharp, mechanical click echoed through the silent room. The biometric tether on her wrist, previously dark and dead, suddenly flared to life with a blinding, pale blue light. The text m

The drive to Sarah Lins old practice was a blur of sirens and silent terror. Ethan drove with lethal focus. Amelia sat beside him, her mind racing. Sarah Lin was supposed to be in custody. Jason Kensington was supposed to be safe. Neither should have been at an abandoned clinic in the middle of the night. When they arrived, police cruisers painted the brick building in flashing red and blue. Patrice and Daniel were waiting by the perimeter. Where is he, Ethan demanded, stepping out of the car. Inside, Patrice said, her voice tight. The tactical team breached the front door. They found Jason in the waiting room. He is alive, but badly injured. He only asked for you, Amelia. Amelia hurried into the building. The air inside smelled of stale coffee and fresh blood. They found Jason slumped against the reception desk. His suit was torn, his face bruised. A paramedic was trying to apply pressure to a wound in his side, but Jason waved them off. You came, Jason rasped, his eyes findin