My FIL’s Forbidden Postpartum Care - Chapter 11: Chapter 11
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My fingers tightened around her wrist, my voice raw with desperation.
"Mom, please—I messed up. It hurts."
"Enough!"
Richard Lowell's roar shook the walls. His face burned scarlet as he wrenched Margaret Hill backward by the arm.
"Margaret, I've put up with you for years. But this? We're done."
She thrashed like a wild animal, teeth bared.
"You're sleeping with your own daughter-in-law—you filthy pig!"
"Then let's make it official. Divorce."
"Gladly! I'm done with your disgusting games!"
The living room erupted into chaos.
I ducked my head, hands pressed to my face as if stifling sobs.
Margaret trembled with fury before spitting at me.
"Don't think you've won, Vivian. Eric and I are divorcing, and you're walking away with nothing. Get out!"
My stomach dropped. Margaret had controlled the money for decades—this could destroy everything.
Seeing my panic, her lips curled into a vicious smirk.
"You did this to yourself."
Then Richard spoke, chillingly calm.
"The house was never yours. The money was mine before we married. What exactly are you taking?"
Margaret froze. "What?! The passbook was always with me—how?!"
He nodded toward the nightstand.
"Transferred out. Months ago."
"You bastard!"
Richard sank into a chair, exhaustion and defiance in his voice.
"For years, I lived like a prisoner. Vivian was the first person who made me feel alive again. The money's with my mother. After the divorce, it stays with her."
Margaret's finger jabbed toward me, her voice shrill.
"You're giving our money to your whore?!"
I lifted my tear-stained face, all innocence.
"Mom, where's your proof? Accusations aren't evidence."
The words hit like a knife. Margaret screamed, lunging—Richard barely caught her.
Then the door burst open.
Eric Lawrence stormed in, fresh hickeys darkening his neck.
Margaret clawed at him, shrieking about betrayal.
Eric's face twisted. He hurled his briefcase to the floor.
"Vivian, how dare you—"
I cut him off, flinging photos across the room—him and his mistress, lips locked, hands tangled.
"Save the act, Eric. Sue me without proof? Good luck. But these? They're real."
His face drained of color.
"How did you—?"
I smirked.
"Doesn't matter. But if your prestigious company sees them..."
His firm prized morality. Exposure meant termination—or worse, lawsuits.
Fear finally cracked his arrogance.
"Vivian, please—let's talk—"
"No."
I scooped up a wailing William, turning toward the door without a backward glance.
"Dad, we're leaving."
Richard nodded.
"Be safe."
Eric grabbed my leg, pleading. I looked down, ice in my voice.
"Sign the divorce. Walk away with your job and reputation—or lose everything."
Jaw clenched, he surrendered.
"Fine."
Margaret collapsed, unconscious from sheer rage.
Weeks Later
The divorce was final. The house, the car, the savings—mine.
Eric slunk off to another city. Margaret vanished into the countryside.
I disappeared too. A new name. A fresh start.
Until Richard found me.
We stopped hiding. Stopped caring.
Flirting in daylight. Raising William. Planting gardens.
For the first time—I was alive.
"Mom, please—I messed up. It hurts."
"Enough!"
Richard Lowell's roar shook the walls. His face burned scarlet as he wrenched Margaret Hill backward by the arm.
"Margaret, I've put up with you for years. But this? We're done."
She thrashed like a wild animal, teeth bared.
"You're sleeping with your own daughter-in-law—you filthy pig!"
"Then let's make it official. Divorce."
"Gladly! I'm done with your disgusting games!"
The living room erupted into chaos.
I ducked my head, hands pressed to my face as if stifling sobs.
Margaret trembled with fury before spitting at me.
"Don't think you've won, Vivian. Eric and I are divorcing, and you're walking away with nothing. Get out!"
My stomach dropped. Margaret had controlled the money for decades—this could destroy everything.
Seeing my panic, her lips curled into a vicious smirk.
"You did this to yourself."
Then Richard spoke, chillingly calm.
"The house was never yours. The money was mine before we married. What exactly are you taking?"
Margaret froze. "What?! The passbook was always with me—how?!"
He nodded toward the nightstand.
"Transferred out. Months ago."
"You bastard!"
Richard sank into a chair, exhaustion and defiance in his voice.
"For years, I lived like a prisoner. Vivian was the first person who made me feel alive again. The money's with my mother. After the divorce, it stays with her."
Margaret's finger jabbed toward me, her voice shrill.
"You're giving our money to your whore?!"
I lifted my tear-stained face, all innocence.
"Mom, where's your proof? Accusations aren't evidence."
The words hit like a knife. Margaret screamed, lunging—Richard barely caught her.
Then the door burst open.
Eric Lawrence stormed in, fresh hickeys darkening his neck.
Margaret clawed at him, shrieking about betrayal.
Eric's face twisted. He hurled his briefcase to the floor.
"Vivian, how dare you—"
I cut him off, flinging photos across the room—him and his mistress, lips locked, hands tangled.
"Save the act, Eric. Sue me without proof? Good luck. But these? They're real."
His face drained of color.
"How did you—?"
I smirked.
"Doesn't matter. But if your prestigious company sees them..."
His firm prized morality. Exposure meant termination—or worse, lawsuits.
Fear finally cracked his arrogance.
"Vivian, please—let's talk—"
"No."
I scooped up a wailing William, turning toward the door without a backward glance.
"Dad, we're leaving."
Richard nodded.
"Be safe."
Eric grabbed my leg, pleading. I looked down, ice in my voice.
"Sign the divorce. Walk away with your job and reputation—or lose everything."
Jaw clenched, he surrendered.
"Fine."
Margaret collapsed, unconscious from sheer rage.
Weeks Later
The divorce was final. The house, the car, the savings—mine.
Eric slunk off to another city. Margaret vanished into the countryside.
I disappeared too. A new name. A fresh start.
Until Richard found me.
We stopped hiding. Stopped caring.
Flirting in daylight. Raising William. Planting gardens.
For the first time—I was alive.
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