The Second Sister Book Novels & Stories

The older sister emitted a white light, and a small, white-haired figure appeared in the beautiful woman’s palm. “Huh? Can my older sister’s incarnation really be so ordinary? Bah! She really did pass down her mother’s bloodline!” the younger sister thought to herself; this could already be called a second version of her older sister. The only differences were her hair and eye color; she didn’t know what this baby would become later in the middle world.

"I scream, 'How is that possible?' as I glare at my sister, who is still grinning at me. Her approach is slow, deliberate. Her grin is still plastered on her face. 'Brother, why are you worrying so much?' she says. I take in her appearance: her wild curly hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, her bright green eyes seem to gleam with a wicked glint, and the corners of her mouth turn up into a sinister smile. The smell of her perfume fills my nostrils, sweet and cloying. It reminds me of the false promises she's made and the lies she's told. I hear her footsteps echoing in the room, each step sounding like a warning. I can feel the tension in my muscles as she approaches me. My sister's p

I forced myself to sit back down, heart beating faster than I cared to admit. Picking up my book once more, I pretended to read, eyes scanning the same paragraph repeatedly while my mind raced with unanswered questions. Minutes later, the heavy library doors swung open with more force than necessary. My sister stormed in, her face twisted with fury. Her eyes—usually bright and commanding—burned with barely contained rage, as if she were fighting the urge to lash out at the first person she saw. “Nate,” she snapped, voice low but venomous as she approached my table. “Have you seen our two housemaids?”

Maybe she's just a teenager, but I want Gretta Mikhaelovich to know I don't care for her, either. No woman with that much male attention could ever be anything but clumsy and stupid. I could tell she loved spending her daddy's money on her pink designer heels. Her sister is wearing sandals. I might save millions by marrying his sister instead. Galena is odd but interesting. If you compare her to her brother, she's amazing; if she stood next to Gretta, she would merge with the wallpaper. This scenario works well for me. I'd rather not have a wife to which all my cousins are attracted.

My sister won't breathe a word; she's always been like that. I focus on washing the dishes, placing the plates and utensils in their rightful places. Finally, I'm finished. I hear the sound of laughter coming from the living room, my sister's voice booming above the rest. Sarah is always at her happiest and loudest when she is with Aiden and Bryan, especially with Aiden. It is not surprising. Of course, Aiden is her best friend. That is why I don't want anything to do with Aiden anymore. I don't want to be the one to ruin their friendship. Fuck how I feel about Blacksmith.

Elianna said sweetly, her voice dripping with venom, “is this where the little lamb has been wandering? Listening to fairy tales from an old man?” Clara’s heart lurched. How had Elianna known she would come here? Elianna stepped forward, her gaze falling on the journal in Clara’s hands. Her smile widened. “Ah. So he has told you. How convenient. But do you truly think you can use that against me?” Clara rose to her feet, her fear burning into fury. “You are not my sister. All these years, you let me love you, trust you, while you plotted to take everything from me. And for what? Because you could not bear the truth?”

My door was pushed open, and there stood my step-sister in all her glory. “Hello, sister, it’s been quite a while. You no longer return my calls.” Lily whined, and I just smiled, tight-lipped at her. If you know Lily, you know the best thing to do is to just ignore her. My parents’ golden child, and she knew exactly how to get under your skin. Nothing I ever did was enough; I was always compared to Lily. She reveled in every bit of attention, and it always made me feel inferior. She destroyed my self-esteem before I even knew what it was called.

“Sis, I know you’re busy. But I was honestly so happy about getting the apartment today. I just wanted to share that with my family. Do you... not approve of me buying a place of my own?” I was struck by her sheer absurdity. I murmured, “I’ve just been really swamped—” My mother scoffed. “Too swamped to take two seconds to tap the ‘like’ button? “You’ve always been like this. Ever since you were little, you couldn’t stand seeing your sister happy.” Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. Long-buried memories came flooding back. In middle school, I came first in the entire grade. My parents completely missed my parent-teacher conference because Daphne had taken a minor tumble.

"Heidi, the night I left Mannorworth, I was in a daze and got into an accident. I lost both my legs. I read your picture book every day. Congratulations on your wedding. Everything I put you through—it all came back to me." I finished reading, then tapped delete and block. I felt no hatred nor any sense of vindication—for I had long moved on. … Clifton sat by the window in the care home, his phone screen frozen on the "message sent" page. The nurse placed his medication on the table. "Mr. Cooper, it's time to take your medicine." But he didn't move. The picture book on his lap was open to the last page. The little girl, holding her magnolia wood paintbrush, had walked out of the shadow. Spri

She was not paying attention. I then asked the older sister who facing the unlit fireplace, she was stitching a scarf made out of red yarns, “Excuse me, sister, have you seen a book with a handwritten title on the cover? Its mine I left it yesterday.” But she only answered me a “No.” “Is this what you are looking for?” A stern voice said. And then I saw it, the plain white cover and the failed cursive of the title. Unfortunately, it was Sister Rene who was the one holding the book.