The Billionaire’s Notorious Villainess Stepmother Chapter 08
The Campus Iron Fist
Sebastian came home from school with a torn collar, bruised pride, and a suspension notice in his bag.
He walked past me without a word. Went straight to his room. Closed the door.
I gave him ten minutes.
Then I opened it.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. His hands were clenched on his knees.
The school said he had started the fight. I knew better the second I saw his face.
“Who?” I asked.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Sebastian.”
He finally looked at me. His eyes were wet, but his jaw was tight. He was furious and humiliated.
“Carter Reed. And his two friends.”
Carter Reed. A senator’s grandson. Rich, spoiled, and used to getting away with everything.
“What did they say?”
Sebastian’s hands curled into fists on his knees.
“They said my dad married a psycho because no real woman would have him. They said my real mom killed herself to get away from us.”
My hands went cold. I forced myself to stay calm.
“And you swung first?”
“Yes.”
“Good. But you let them write the story first. That was your mistake.”
He flinched. “There were three of them—”
“I don’t care if there were ten.” I crouched in front of him. “You’re a Blackwood. If someone tries to bury you, you make sure they go down first. Period.”
From down the hall, I heard Cassandra’s voice drifting from the sitting room, loud enough for us to hear.
“The boy got beaten up again. Pathetic. Weak, just like his father at that age.”
Sebastian’s whole body went rigid.
I stood up. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“The car.”
The Blackwood name paid for half of that school.
If they wanted to pretend they had no power to protect my son, I planned to remind them who signed their checks.
I pulled the Blackwood Foundation file from my desk.
Sebastian stared at it.
“Read the first page,” I said.
He put them on. Held his fists wrong. Elbows wide, wrists loose, chin up. Every mistake a beginner makes.
I adjusted his stance. Rotated his wrists. Pulled his elbows in.
“Don’t go wide. You lose power. Keep it tight. Fast. Here.”
I tapped the side of his jaw.
“And here.”
I touched his ribs.
“These are where you end a fight in one move. Quick. Clean. They drop before they understand what happened.”
“You want me to hurt someone?”
“I want you to never lose again.”
I stepped back.
“Fighting is a last resort. But knowing you can win changes how you stand, how you talk, how you look at someone who thinks they can hurt you. Confidence isn’t a feeling, Sebastian. It’s a weapon.”
I spent the next two hours showing him how power worked.
Donations. Board seats. Parent companies. Quiet calls that closed doors.
Sebastian was a fast learner. Faster than I expected. By the end, he sat straighter, spoke clearly, and looked calmer.
Not angry anymore.
Focused.
“Sebastian.” I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Nobody in this world leaves you alone because you’re nice. If you want them to stop, make it cost too much to touch you. Money, status, reputation—use all of it.”
He nodded once. Hard.
The next day, Sebastian went back to school.
By lunchtime, I sat in the headmaster’s office with Sebastian beside me.
Carter Reed’s parents sat across from us, pale and angry. Carter kept his eyes on the floor.
The headmaster tried to sound firm. “Mrs. Blackwood, Sebastian’s behavior was unacceptable—”
“This is failure,” I said. “Your school let three boys bully my son for weeks. I have emails you ignored, photos you dismissed, and witness statements your staff buried. Should I send them to the Reed family lawyers, or should I send them to the press?”
The headmaster stopped talking.
“I thought so. Sebastian stays enrolled. Carter transfers. And one more thing—I’m pulling the Blackwood Foundation’s entire annual donation. Every cent. Carter’s parents will also find that Blackwood Luxury Group no longer works with any company tied to them. Are we clear?”
“…Yes, Mrs. Blackwood.”
I hung up.
Sebastian came home that afternoon walking taller than I’d ever seen him. Clara ran to the door and grabbed his hand, chattering about her day.
He looked at me over her head.
And for the first time since I’d entered this house, Sebastian Blackwood smiled at me.
A real one. Small, private, and mine to remember.
Cassandra watched from the top of the stairs, arms crossed.
She didn’t say a word.
Smart woman. She was finally learning.
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