My FIL’s Forbidden Postpartum Care - Chapter 9: Chapter 9

This was the first time in his simple, uncomplicated life that he'd ever faced something like this.
And I was terrified too.
I yanked my foot back so fast it was a blur. Even now, the memory of his wet, slimy saliva clinging to my skin made me shudder.
"Dad, it's okay," I whispered, forcing steadiness into my voice. "I won't tell anyone."
He buried his face in his hands, shame radiating off him in waves. He couldn't even look at me.
"After what I've done… I can't stay. I'll pack my things and go back to Lancaster in a few days. I'll find you a better nanny—someone decent."
My chest tightened. I stared at him, emotions churning inside me like a storm.
So much for my bravery. Turns out, I wasn't as strong as I thought.
"Dad, please… don't go."
But his mind was set. He pushed back from the table and stood, his voice firm.
"My decision's final, Vivian. You have my word—I won't show my face around you again."
That night, sleep wouldn't come. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory played on loop—his feverish lips on my toes, his rough hands gripping my ankle like a man possessed.
Just as my thoughts spiraled deeper, the door burst open.
The sharp, sour stench of alcohol flooded the room. I turned my head.
Eric.
Of all the nights for him to finally drag his sorry ass home. This heartless bastard had been flaunting his mistress in public while his mother made my postpartum recovery a living hell.
And now he had the nerve to walk in here?
I wanted to scream. To throw something. To demand a divorce right then and there. But my revenge wasn't complete yet. So I swallowed the rage burning in my throat and stayed silent.
Eric staggered toward the bed, reeking of whiskey and cheap perfume.
His disgusting hands slid over my body as he slurred, "Damn, Vivian… you bounced back fast. Still got those curves—my sexy little goddess."
I scoffed, turning my face away.
"Oh, really? I guess no matter how pretty the garden rose is, men always prefer the trash on the side of the road."
Too drunk to catch the insult, he climbed on top of me, pinning my wrists. His hips ground against my stomach, leaving no doubt what he wanted.
But my body was still healing. The thought of this cheating bastard touching me made my skin crawl. I thrashed under him.
"Get off me! Let go!"
He just smirked, tightening his grip.
"Go ahead, scream all you want. No one's coming to save you. Mom's been nagging me for a granddaughter. Face it, Vivian—in this house, you're on your own."
Monster.
That's all he was. A selfish, pathetic monster.
Tears pricked my eyes as I searched for an escape.
He growled in frustration.
"I held back your entire pregnancy. When you were puking your guts out, I kept my hands to myself. Now the baby's almost a month old, and you're still playing hard to get. Know your damn place."
I turned my face away, refusing to look at him.
"Your touch makes me sick."
His fingers dug deeper, slipping under my underwear. I couldn't take it anymore.
"Dad! Dad, help—!"
Before I could finish, frantic pounding shook the door.
"Vivian?! What's wrong?"
Eric clamped a hand over my mouth and barked, "Nothing, Dad! Just Vivian getting jumpy over some horror movie. Go back to bed!"