My FIL’s Forbidden Postpartum Care - Chapter 10: Chapter 10
You are reading My FIL’s Forbidden Postpartum Care, Chapter 10: Chapter 10. Read more chapters of My FIL’s Forbidden Postpartum Care.
Richard didn't catch my reply. He wasn't buying any of Eric's bullshit, his voice sharp with urgency.
"Eric, did you lay a hand on Vivian? I swear to God—if you're still my son, get your ass out here now!"
Eric still cowered under his father's authority. He shot me a venomous look—a silent threat to keep my mouth shut—before shoving off me and yanking the door open.
The second Richard stepped inside, he brushed past Eric like he was invisible and rushed to me. His eyes raked over me, searching for injuries, his expression tight with worry.
Only when he saw I wasn't seriously hurt did his shoulders relax. Then he whirled on Eric, fury simmering in his voice.
"Vivian just had a baby! Your mother's already out of control, and now you're pulling this shit?"
Eric stayed quiet, knowing he'd lost this fight. With a final glare, he turned on his heel and stormed out.
Seeing me like this—shaken, vulnerable—Richard's chest ached. He grabbed the nearest coat and wrapped it around my shoulders, his touch careful.
"Vivian… you okay?"
I shook my head, my throat too tight to speak.
Right then, my heart felt like glass—one wrong move and it would shatter. Richard's presence was the only thing holding me together. I wanted to curl into him, to let him shield me from everything.
"Dad… thank God you came."
Before I could stop myself, I buried my face against his chest, tears spilling as I looked up at him.
"If you leave… I don't know how I'll make it."
I meant it. Every word.
In this house, I had to care for my child, endure Eric's demands, and dodge Margaret's endless cruelty.
Richard was my only safe place.
He was the only one who made me feel warmth—like I belonged somewhere. Like I was still a woman, not just a punching bag.
My words hit him hard. He stroked my hair, silent for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice rough with resolve.
"I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay with you."
Hearing that, something inside me settled.
As long as Richard was here, I could breathe.
6:00 AM
Richard and I moved around the kitchen, making breakfast together. I kept finding excuses to brush against him—subtle, but deliberate.
While rinsing the millet, I let my fingers skim the back of his hand.
"Dad…"
His face flushed instantly. He froze for a heartbeat before suddenly gripping my hand, like he'd made up his mind about something.
His palm was broad, warm, calloused from years of work—rough in a way that felt strangely comforting.
I blinked up at him slowly, lips parting.
"I… I…"
Richard looked dazed. Without thinking, he leaned in, our faces inches apart, his grip tightening.
"Vivian—"
A screech like a banshee shattered the moment.
"What the hell are you two disgusting pigs doing?!"
Margaret's voice was a razor blade slicing through the quiet. She stood there trembling, her eyes practically bulging out of her skull.
Before I could react, her hand cracked across my cheek.
"Ah—!"
I never stood a chance. The slap snapped my head to the side, my skin burning. Tears welled instantly, hot and humiliating.
But Margaret wasn't done. She lunged, fingers tangling in my hair, dragging me toward the door.
"You filthy little slut! Coming onto your own father-in-law? I'll rip your clothes off and toss you into the street for the whole neighborhood to see what a whore you are!"
"Eric, did you lay a hand on Vivian? I swear to God—if you're still my son, get your ass out here now!"
Eric still cowered under his father's authority. He shot me a venomous look—a silent threat to keep my mouth shut—before shoving off me and yanking the door open.
The second Richard stepped inside, he brushed past Eric like he was invisible and rushed to me. His eyes raked over me, searching for injuries, his expression tight with worry.
Only when he saw I wasn't seriously hurt did his shoulders relax. Then he whirled on Eric, fury simmering in his voice.
"Vivian just had a baby! Your mother's already out of control, and now you're pulling this shit?"
Eric stayed quiet, knowing he'd lost this fight. With a final glare, he turned on his heel and stormed out.
Seeing me like this—shaken, vulnerable—Richard's chest ached. He grabbed the nearest coat and wrapped it around my shoulders, his touch careful.
"Vivian… you okay?"
I shook my head, my throat too tight to speak.
Right then, my heart felt like glass—one wrong move and it would shatter. Richard's presence was the only thing holding me together. I wanted to curl into him, to let him shield me from everything.
"Dad… thank God you came."
Before I could stop myself, I buried my face against his chest, tears spilling as I looked up at him.
"If you leave… I don't know how I'll make it."
I meant it. Every word.
In this house, I had to care for my child, endure Eric's demands, and dodge Margaret's endless cruelty.
Richard was my only safe place.
He was the only one who made me feel warmth—like I belonged somewhere. Like I was still a woman, not just a punching bag.
My words hit him hard. He stroked my hair, silent for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice rough with resolve.
"I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay with you."
Hearing that, something inside me settled.
As long as Richard was here, I could breathe.
6:00 AM
Richard and I moved around the kitchen, making breakfast together. I kept finding excuses to brush against him—subtle, but deliberate.
While rinsing the millet, I let my fingers skim the back of his hand.
"Dad…"
His face flushed instantly. He froze for a heartbeat before suddenly gripping my hand, like he'd made up his mind about something.
His palm was broad, warm, calloused from years of work—rough in a way that felt strangely comforting.
I blinked up at him slowly, lips parting.
"I… I…"
Richard looked dazed. Without thinking, he leaned in, our faces inches apart, his grip tightening.
"Vivian—"
A screech like a banshee shattered the moment.
"What the hell are you two disgusting pigs doing?!"
Margaret's voice was a razor blade slicing through the quiet. She stood there trembling, her eyes practically bulging out of her skull.
Before I could react, her hand cracked across my cheek.
"Ah—!"
I never stood a chance. The slap snapped my head to the side, my skin burning. Tears welled instantly, hot and humiliating.
But Margaret wasn't done. She lunged, fingers tangling in my hair, dragging me toward the door.
"You filthy little slut! Coming onto your own father-in-law? I'll rip your clothes off and toss you into the street for the whole neighborhood to see what a whore you are!"
End of My FIL’s Forbidden Postpartum Care Chapter 10. Continue reading Chapter 11 or return to My FIL’s Forbidden Postpartum Care book page.