The Rivalry: A Tale of Competition and Ambition

When Evelyn first saw the figures in white coats, the stretcher bearing a young woman who seemed to be lying perfectly still, a strange mix of satisfaction and dread washed over her. Was the woman still alive? The question sent a cold sweat down Evelyns spine. She hadnt wanted any of thisnot even for her mothers sake. Broken bones were never part of her plan. She only wanted a lesson, a punishment, a way to keep her fathers attention away from her mother.

The Whitmore family were known far beyond their little Wiltshire parish. Not just a family but a tightlyrun business: David Whitmore, his wife Clara, and their daughter Evelyn. Their equestrian centre The Legend had become a pilgrimage site for tourists and horseenthusiasts alike. David, a former cavalryman, was a man of the people; Clara ran the books and kept the household humming; and Evelyn had practically grown up in the saddle, knowing each horses quirks as if they were family secrets. From a young age she was quiet, determined and bravea true doer.

The Whitmore enterprise began as a hobby. David kept a couple of ponies on his parents farm, and in the mid1990s he built a spacious stable with a school arena and a large paddock just outside the village. Soon after he added a modest guesthouse, bought five more horses, and started taking in private steeds for boarding and training. He hired grooms, a farrier, and trainers, turning the place into a fulltime riding school.

The service proved popular with city folk escaping to the countryside, and even tourists began to arrive. Evelyn and her mother lived in a flat in Bath, but every weekend she drove out to the farm, eager to work in the stables. By the time she was in Year 7 she was already helping David teach newcomers the basics of dressage.

After finishing school she refused a university place, devoting herself entirely to the family business. She could name each horses temperament, spot a sore back, decide which could be turned out to the fields and which were likely to throw a tantrum.

Business wasnt always smooth. In 2010 a fire broke out, gutting the outbuildings and claiming several horses. David turned ashen with grief, while Clara kept a stoic face, insisting everything would be rebuilt. The family did pull the centre back from the ashes.

That idyll shattered when Clara suffered her first stroke. David never left her side; he was her shadow, her will. Three months later a second attack left her unable to leave the house. The crack in Davids world widened. He hired carers, ordered expensive medication, yet his eyes grew hollow and his touch grew mechanical. Hope faded from his gaze.

Evelyn saw her fathers perfunctory care for her mother and loathed him for his weakness. She believed Clara would recovershe wasnt even fifty yet, after allso the family could return to the warm, supportive unit theyd always been.

Her dreams collapsed in an instant.

One afternoon she caught David in the hayloft with Victoriaa striking, selfassured businesswoman and one of the centres regular clients. The world seemed to tilt. Evelyns anger flared so fiercely she sprinted home that very evening, intent on confronting her mother.

She expected Claras eyes to mirror her own fury, but the woman, now confined to a wheelchair, simply sighed.

Darling, calm down. I know whats happening, Clara whispered.

Know? And you just keep quiet? Evelyn snapped.

Davids fortyeight, full of life, and he needs a partner, Clara said. Im now a burden to him. He still goes out, still runs the business. Ive forgiven himfor his sake, for ours. And you should forgive too. For my sake.

Evelyn couldnt. Her father had raised her with rigid ideas about men, and at twenty shed never been seriously involved with anyone. The thought that another woman was exploiting her fathers vulnerability and her mothers frailty poisoned her. She kept replaying the tender moments between David and Clara, remembering how kind and attentive hed been. She concluded it wasnt his fault; it was Victorias. No decent man could resist a woman who flaunted her charms. All the anger shifted onto the interloper.

Revenge became an obsessive whisper.

But Evelyn wasnt one for brutal vengeance. She decided to strip Victoria of what she prized most: her icy confidence and control. Evelyn knew Victoria, despite her experience, was terrified of looking foolish. So she hatched a plan.

She invited Victoria to test a new horse named Storma gentle, lazy beast Evelyn had secretly trained for days, using subtle cues invisible to anyone else.

On the day of the demonstration the arena was packed. Evelyn showed off Storms composure, then handed the reins to Victoria. Suddenly the horse began behaving oddly, not aggressive but mischievous. It bucked at the most ridiculous moments, ignored commands, and performed absurd jumps as if it were auditioning for a comedy sketch.

Victoria, desperate to save face, looked less like a skilled rider and more like a clumsy novice unable to manage a stubborn animal. The audience burst into laughter. She grew frantic, angry, and ultimately tumbled off in a spectacularly ungraceful fall.

David wasnt there; hed gone to be with Clara, and Evelyn had taken care of that. An hour after the fiasco David arrived at the stables, only to learn that Victoria had been whisked off to the hospital. Before leaving he glared at Evelyn, promising Well talk later.

When the adrenaline faded, Evelyn stood alone on the empty arena, feeling less victorious and more hollow. She hadnt set out to maim anyone; it was a terrible accident of circumstance.

David returned early the next morning, waiting for Evelyn at breakfast. His face was as grey as a winter sky.

The saddle, he said quietly. Ive examined it. Its been tampered with. And Storms behaviour youve told me everything. Did I ever teach you this?

Evelyn tried to explain.

I did it for you! For Mum! To make her leave!

Silence! David shouted, the first time hed ever raised his voice at her. You didnt do this for us. You thought you could play judge? I dont know if Ill ever look at you without terror.

Even worse than his words was Claras silence.

Evelyn approached her, hoping for at least a hint of understanding. Clara stared with cold, foreign eyes.

I asked you to understand, to forgive as I have. Instead you brought intentional, calculated evil into our home. You thought you were saving the family? You buried it. Leave.

Soon it became clear that Victorias injuries were not as severe as first feared. Doctors suspected a spinal sprain; she was unable to move for two days but eventually recovered from a concussion and bruises. She never sued; every client signs a standard waiver absolving the centre of liability. The only witnesses to the mishap were David and Clara, who realised which horse had caused the fall.

The Legend still operates, but its spirit has fled.

David now lives in a modest cottage at the edge of the stables, never speaking to his daughter. Clara has retreated fully into herself; her silence is a wall Evelyn cannot breach.

Evelyn lives alone in a quiet house, surrounded by family photographs, convinced she didnt deserve such treatment from her parents. She had wanted to punish an outsider to restore things as they were. But as they were never returns. Revenge, like acid, eats away at everything drop by drop. Now Evelyn can only lament that in her fury she imagined justice might ever resemble cruelty.