Stomping Out the Leeches My Husband and Stepson Regret Everything

My stepson begged me to borrow Zephyr, the gentlest horse in my club, for just one day. He said he was dating a sweet college girl, and she really wanted to learn how to ride.

To support his relationship, I personally brought this multimilliondollar stallion to the track. But as soon as the ride started, Zephyr suddenly let out a sharp, agonizing shriek.

I rushed onto the track, only to find someone had maliciously hammered pushpins into the crevices of his horseshoe! As blood poured out, my eyes went red with anger.

I demanded answers from the girl who had just dismounted.

Instead of answering, she pinched her nose in disgust, took a step back, and pouted to my stepson. "Babe, who is this smelly stable woman?

How dare she yell at me!" I had always given my stepson, Ethan, whatever he wanted. I considered myself a decent stepmother. But his new girlfriend made my stomach turn.

I looked at the girl clinging to Ethan, then turned to Zephyr, who was huffing in pain. My anger flared. I bred Zephyr myself.

Even the senior trainers at the club didn't dare push him too hard. And today, some brat had jammed pushpins into his hoof.

Suppressing my rage, I glared at Ethan. "Ethan, is this what you promised me?" "You said she just wanted to walk him slowly.

You swore she wouldn't hurt him." Before Ethan could speak, Clara, his girlfriend, rolled her eyes and piped up. "Who even are you?

Just a lowlevel worker at this club, and you dare yell at Ethan?" Clara tugged Ethan’s sleeve, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Ethan, the staff here are so rude.

She just started shouting at me out of nowhere." "And this stupid horse suddenly went crazy. It almost threw me off!

I think I sprained my ankle." Ethan immediately looked down to check her ankle, his eyes filled with worry. "Clara, are you okay?

Do we need to go to the hospital?" Once he made sure she was fine, Ethan looked up at me with sheer annoyance and disdain. "Vivian, didn't I tell you not to wander around when I bring my friends here?" "Take this beast and get out of here.

You're ruining our day." Vivian. He called me by my name like I was some hired help. I let out a cold, angry laugh, staring at the ungrateful leech I had raised for eight years.

My name is Vivian Sinclair. I am the founder of this elite equestrian club, and I am Ethan’s stepmother.

To protect his fragile pride, I rarely showed my face in public at the club, choosing to manage everything behind the scenes.

When he wanted to borrow a horse, I didn't hesitate to bring out Zephyr—the most expensive, gentlest stallion in the stable.

And now, just to play the bigshot in front of a girl, he was treating me like a lowly stable hand. "Ethan, what did you just call me?

Say it again." I took a step forward, looking him dead in the eye. Ethan flinched slightly under my gaze, but he quickly puffed out his chest. "I called you Vivian.

You're just a worker here. Do you actually think you own this place?" "This club belongs to my dad.

You do what I tell you to do!" The college students watching began to jeer. "Exactly. She’s just a stable maid, who does she think she is?" "Ethan gifted this horse to Clara.

You didn't even take care of it properly, and now you're making a scene?" Hearing the flattery, Clara raised her chin even higher.

She pointed at Zephyr's bleeding hoof, her voice dripping with malice. "Ethan, this horse has a terrible temper.

We should just send it to the slaughterhouse before it hurts anyone else." Zephyr seemed to understand.

He nervously scraped his uninjured hoof against the ground, letting out a soft, pained whimper. My heart ached. I knelt down to examine his hoof. The pushpins were hammered in deep.

Blood was seeping out around the horseshoe, staining the sand red. These were heavyduty pushpins, the kind only found on the bulletin board in the club's lounge.

Zephyr was always gentle. He would never attack anyone.

The only explanation was that Clara had deliberately jammed them in before mounting. "Clara, you did this, didn't you?" I stood up and grabbed her wrist. "You're not leaving until you explain this!"

Clara shrieked and struggled to pull away. "Let go of me! You're hurting me! Ethan, look at this crazy woman!" Seeing this, Ethan lunged forward and shoved me hard.

Caught off guard, I stumbled back a few steps, nearly falling into the dirt. "Vivian, don't push your luck!" Ethan pointed a finger at my face, his voice venomous. "Who do you think you are, putting your hands on Clara?" "Let me tell you something.

Even if Clara did hurt this horse, it's the beast's honor. Apologize to Clara right now, or I'll have my dad fire you!" I steadied myself, looking at his arrogant, ugly face.

The last shred of affection I had for him evaporated. Eight years ago, I married Richard Vance, bringing a massive dowry with me.

Back then, Richard was just a smalltime business owner on the brink of bankruptcy. Ethan was a weak, bullied kid.

I used the Sinclair family's resources to save Richard's business and help it grow.

I spent my nights tutoring Ethan, went to his school to stand up for him, and raised him from an insecure boy into the wealthy heir he claimed to be today.

For his sake, I even chose not to have my own children, loving him like my own son.

But now, for a vain, cruel girl, he was humiliating me in public and demanding I apologize to the person who tortured my horse. "You want me to apologize?" I let out a cold laugh, my eyes scanning Ethan and Clara before locking onto Zephyr's bleeding hoof. "Fine.

I'll make sure to settle this properly." I pulled out my phone and dialed the emergency vet line. "Dr. Evans, bring your gear to Arena Two immediately. Zephyr is injured.

It looks like animal abuse." An urgent confirmation came from the other end. Clara's face paled slightly. She tugged at Ethan's sleeve. "Ethan, why is she calling a vet?

It's just a scratch on the hoof." Ethan patted her hand reassuringly and sneered at me. "Vivian, stop acting dramatic. It's just a horse.

I can pay you back for it." "Pay me back?" I hung up and walked toward Ethan, step by step. "This horse is Zephyr. He's a purebred AkhalTeke stallion imported from Turkmenistan.

His market value is eighteen million dollars." "His stud fee is half a million dollars per session, and he's booked out for the next two years." "Pay me back?

With what money?" Ethan's face drained of color. He knew exactly how valuable Zephyr was.

Last year, a Middle Eastern royal family offered twelve million for him, and I turned them down flat. His father, Richard, had talked about it at the dinner table for a week.

The surrounding students looked at each other, whispering in shock. "Eighteen million?

Seriously?" "No way... is that horse really that expensive?" Clara bit her lip and pointed at me, screeching, "You're lying!

You're just a stable hand, how would you know how much he costs? You're just making things up to scare us!" "Ethan, tell her!

The horse isn't that expensive, right?" Ethan opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

He knew I was telling the truth. "Ethan, tell her who I am." I crossed my arms, waiting. I had called him "Ethan" or "my boy" since he was seven.

Whenever he was bullied, he would run into my arms and cry.

But now, hearing me address him, his face showed nothing but disgust and embarrassment. "She..." Ethan clenched his fists, his throat bobbing.

He finally spat out, "She's just a worker here, Clara. Don't listen to her!" "It's just a horse.

My dad said this club will be mine sooner or later anyway." "If I say it's worthless, then it's worthless!"

The last bit of warmth in my heart died. Perfect.

Eight years of nurturing, repaid with "she's just a worker." Five years of keeping a low profile to build his confidence, repaid with "it's worthless." "Ethan, did your dad ever tell you whose name is on the deed to this club?" My voice was terrifyingly calm.

Ethan froze. He had clearly never thought about it. Richard hadn't told him because Richard was too embarrassed to admit it.

Everything here—from the land to the buildings to the horses—was my premarital property. "Dr. Evans is here!" someone yelled. Dr.

Evans, in his fifties, came running with his medical kit, followed by two assistants.

He was the most senior vet at the club and Zephyr's personal doctor. "Vivian, what happened to Zephyr?" Dr. Evans knelt and carefully lifted Zephyr's injured hoof.

His face instantly darkened. "Are these... pushpins?" He took a pair of forceps from his assistant, gripped the end of a pushpin, and slowly pulled it out.

Zephyr trembled in pain, but he didn't struggle. He just looked at me with his big, wet eyes and whimpered. When the pin came out, blood splattered onto Dr. Evans' gloves.

It was a heavyduty pushpin, nearly an inch long, driven entirely into the soft tissue. "This is sick. Whoever did this wanted to ruin him," Dr.

Evans said, his voice shaking with anger. "Vivian, if this had been any deeper, it would have hit the bone.

He would have been crippled for life." I took the bloody pin from him and turned to Clara. "What do you have to say now?" Clara shrank behind Ethan, still stubborn. "What does that have to do with me?

Do you have proof?

Without proof, this is defamation!" "Ethan, say something!" Ethan stood there like a statue, his face extremely grim. "Enough!" He finally snapped, grabbing Clara's wrist. "We're leaving!" "Leaving?" I stepped in front of them, blocking their path. "No one is leaving until the police arrive." "Animal cruelty is a crime.

And maliciously damaging highvalue property is a felony." "Ethan, you're twentyone.

It's time to face the consequences of your actions." "You're calling the cops?" Ethan laughed like I was insane, his eyes turning red. "Vivian, you're calling the cops on me over a stupid animal?" "He's not a stupid animal.

He's Zephyr." I stared at him. "The horse you cried to ride when you were a kid." "You said you wanted to be the best rider and win championships with him.

Do you remember that?" Ethan's pupils contracted.

His lips trembled, as if a painful memory had been triggered. "Shut up!" He screamed, his voice cracking with a hint of tears. "Stop using the past to guilttrip me!" "You think I don't know?

You were only nice to me because you couldn't have kids! You just wanted me as a trophy!" "My dad told me everything. You're just a barren woman.

What right do you have to act like my mother?" His words felt like a knife plunging straight into my chest. I swayed slightly, my fingers tightening into fists.

So, that was what Richard had told him. Back then, the doctor said my body was too weak and I needed to recover for a few years before trying to get pregnant.

To protect Ethan's feelings, I voluntarily chose to delay having children so I could focus entirely on him. But in Richard's mouth, it became "barren." "Brilliant.

Truly brilliant." I took a deep breath, looking at his twisted, angry face. He felt like a total stranger.

When did the timid little boy who used to hide behind my back turn into this monster? "You have a choice," I said, putting the pushpin into a plastic bag. "Either she gets on her knees, apologizes to Zephyr, and pays for all medical expenses, and I might consider a settlement." "Or, we let the police handle it.

Let the judge decide." "In your dreams!" Clara shrieked. "Who do you think you are to make me kneel?" "Who am I?" I finally smiled and made a second call. "Marcus, pull the security footage from Arena Two from fifteen minutes ago.

Cast it onto the main screen in the courtyard." "Also, have security lock down all exits. No one leaves until the police arrive."

Ethan's face went completely pale. He hadn't realized there were cameras here. Arena Two was a VIP zone. He assumed there were no cameras to protect privacy.

But he didn't know that to protect these multimilliondollar horses, every inch of the club was under 360degree surveillance. The massive screen in the courtyard lit up.

On the screen, five minutes before mounting, Clara could be seen sneaking over to the lounge bulletin board while Ethan was on the phone. She stole several pushpins.

Then she walked over to Zephyr, knelt, and jammed them into his hoof. The footage was crystal clear. The watching students gasped, immediately taking several steps away from Clara.

Clara's face lost all color. "I... I just wanted to see how the horse would react.

I didn't mean to..." "You didn't mean to?" I held up the plastic bag. "You drove three oneinch pins into his foot, and you say you didn't mean to?" "How about I drive three nails into your shoes and say I didn't mean to?

Would you believe me?" Clara stumbled backward in terror, her heel catching as she fell awkwardly onto the dirt. She looked up at Ethan, begging for help.

But Ethan avoided her gaze. He stood frozen, staring at the screen, his face dark as thunder. "Ethan," Clara whimpered, tugging at his pants. "Help me.

You said your family owned this place! You said everyone here had to listen to you!" Ethan clenched his fists and looked up.

His eyes were filled with pure hatred and humiliation. "Vivian, what do you want?" His voice was hoarse. "You want me to beg? You want to humiliate me, is that it?" "Fine.

You win." He stiffly bowed his head. "I'm sorry.

Satisfied?" Looking at his resentful face, I felt incredibly exhausted. "Ethan, do you think I care about a fake apology?" "I wanted you to learn what accountability means." "When you were bullied as a kid, I taught you how to stand tall.

But look at you now. You've become the bully." "To please a girl, you ignored her cruelty, covered for her, and defended her." "I am so disappointed in you." Ethan stiffened.

He stood up straight, his eyes bloodshot, his lips trembling. Finally, he spat out: "Disappointed?

What right do you have to be disappointed in me?" "You're just a woman my dad married!" "Don't think I don't know.

If your family wasn't rich, and if you hadn't begged to marry into our family..." He paused, searching for the most venomous words he could find. "A woman like you wouldn't even be fit to be a maid in the Vance house!" The arena fell dead silent.

Even Clara stopped crying, staring at Ethan in shock at how vicious his words were. I stood there, looking at the face of the boy I raised, feeling my heart shatter. It hurt.

It hurt more than waking up on the operating table years ago, hearing the doctor say it would be hard for me to ever conceive.

Because I finally realized that to Ethan, I was never family.

I was just an outsider who "begged to marry in." No matter how much I gave, no matter how much I loved him, in his eyes, I was always beneath them.

Because I wasn't his biological mother. "Fine," I said, my voice dead calm. "Since that's how you feel, I will no longer be a part of your family." "We'll handle this by the book." I turned away from him, addressing the security chief who had just arrived. "When the police get here, hand over Zephyr's medical report and the surveillance footage." "Also, notify our legal department.

Prepare to file lawsuits." "We are pressing charges for animal cruelty and grand property damage." Clara broke down, sobbing hysterically.

But Ethan kept his stubborn posture, glaring at my back. "Vivian, you'll regret this." "My dad won't let you get away with this." Without turning back, I gently stroked Zephyr's mane and whispered, "I've been regretting marrying into your family since the day I did it eight years ago." Ethan swayed, but he didn't say another word.

I didn't care what he was thinking. But the betrayal wasn't over yet.

An hour later, my phone rang. Caller ID: Richard Vance. I answered.

His first words made me freeze. "Vivian, Ethan said you put his girlfriend in jail?" Richard's tone was heavy with accusation. "He also said you called him an ungrateful leech in front of everyone.

How could you do that to him?" "He was crying on the phone just now, saying he wants to end his life.

Do you realize you almost drove my son to suicide?" My grip on the phone tightened. Ethan was crying, claiming I drove him to suicide.

Yet Richard hadn't asked a single question about Zephyr's injuries. He didn't care about the pushpins.

He didn't even ask if I was okay. "Richard," I said, closing my eyes. "Come home. We need to talk." "We're getting a divorce." Silence fell over the line for ten seconds.

Then, Richard spoke in a cold, dark tone I had never heard from him before. "Divorce?

Vivian, you've lost your mind." "Do you think the Sinclair family is still what it was eight years ago?" "Your father is dead. Your brother is crippled.

The Sinclair assets have been drained. You're nothing but a paper tiger." "Without me, you are absolutely nothing." I held the phone, my entire body going cold.

Because I suddenly realized something. Ethan's disrespect and venomous words hadn't come out of nowhere. They were a mirror.

A mirror reflecting the thoughts of the man I had slept next to for eight years. After hanging up, I stood in the stable, watching the dusk settle. Zephyr's hoof was bandaged. Dr.

Evans had given him antiinflammatories. He lay quietly on the straw, occasionally nuzzling my palm to comfort me. Eight years. Eight years since I married Richard.

He had gone from a nearbankrupt business owner to a prominent tycoon. His business empire had expanded nationwide, crossing into real estate, logistics, and dining.

Everyone praised his vision and guts, calling him a natural businessman. But only I knew that his "vision" came from my strategies behind the scenes.

His "guts" were backed by the Sinclair family's connections and resources. Before my father died, he was the wealthiest man in the state.

My brother, Arthur, though in poor health, was a recognized business prodigy. When the Sinclair family was at its peak, Richard wasn't even fit to shine our shoes.

But now that my brother was bedridden and our family business had been slowly eaten away, Richard thought his wings were fully grown.

He dared to tell me I was nothing without him. "Zephyr... do you think he was playing me from the very start?" I buried my face in his mane, my voice muffled.

Zephyr couldn't answer, but his quiet presence was the only comfort I had. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was Ethan. I stared at his contact name, "My Boy," before picking up.