My Husband Couldn’t Touch Me After Birth—Then His Father Stepped In

The wine bottle felt cold in my hands. It was a contrast to the warm feeling spreading in my chest. Even though I was deeply exhausted and just wanted to collapse into my bed and sleep, today was my second wedding anniversary with my husband Ryan. I couldn't miss it. I reached the stairs but a soft voice drifting from the bedroom upstairs made my heart skip a beat. It rose in a low, breathless moan, making the hairs on my body stand on end. Who was that? Could it be from a movie? My brows furrowed as I hopefully thought. But that didn't explain the continuous banging against the wall. My heart fluttered with dread. I pushed through the doors. "Happy anniversary," dying on my lips when I heard the woman's voice cry out. "Yes! f**k me hard!" Dread slowly settled inside me as I stared at the sight before me. Heat rushed across my face and drained the color from my cheeks. Lucy Parker, my high school bully and the woman that made my life a living hell, was on her knees and forearms on the bed while my husband Ryan f****d her from behind. The sound of his body slamming into her filled the silence in the room. Ryan's eyes were shut, his breathing sharp as his fingers dug into her flesh. Lucy turned her head to meet my eyes and the shock of seeing that face after so many years caused me to flinch and release the wine bottle. It fell to the ground with a dull thud, shattering into pieces. Bile crawled up my throat and the urge to claw out my eyes overwhelmed me. My heartbeat thundered in my chest. I pressed a hand against it, struggling to steady myself as my anxiety spiked. For a brief moment, I considered grabbing the shards of glass and driving them through their flesh. My shoulders slumped and I took a step back, my body colliding with the wall. I needed to leave before I did something I couldn't take back. Ryan's eyes had snapped open at the sound of glass shattering and he was now staring at me. His expression was blank, unreadable. "What's wrong, Ryan?" Lucy asked, grinding against him. He was still buried inside her, and the sight alone stirred a deep resentment in me. Before I knew it, I was moving toward Ryan. "What are you doing here?" His voice stopped me cold. "On our anniversary?" I choked. "Why the hell would you do this to me, Ryan?! After everything!" My eyes cut to Lucy and I found her smiling. Without a second thought, I lunged toward the bed with the intent of dragging her away. I wanted her gone. I didn't want to see her face again. But before I could reach her, Ryan yanked me back. "Get your filthy hands off me!" I thrashed. Pak. The force of the slap sent my face swinging hard to the other side. I stumbled back, my legs giving out as I hit the floor. "How about you know your f*****g place in this house, b***h?" He tilted his head. "I pulled you out of the slums, so you have no f*****g say in what I do with my life." I looked up at him through a blur of tears, my cheek stinging from the blow. How had things escalated so quickly? Just a week ago I was in this bed with Ryan, surrendering to his declarations of love, and now I had found my high school bully here in his arms. … .. Two weeks later After the incident with Ryan and Lucy Parker, I cried for two full days before convincing myself that I needed to get out of this marriage. With the help of my best friend, I found a competent lawyer to handle my divorce from Ryan. Now sitting in my car staring at the mansion before me, I took a deep breath. Sparing another glance at the message my father in law had sent about having a meeting with the both of us before our official divorce, I wondered if I would be able to stand Ryan in a room. The only reason I'd accepted this invite was solely due to the respect I held for Ryan's father, Arthur I took a step inside, scanning the place to find it quiet and still. The only sound was the distant barking of dogs. I was about to turn and leave when the main door swung shut behind me. I spun around in alarm, eyes widening as I came face to face with my father-in-law, Arthur, standing at the entrance. He was half naked with a towel hanging low on his waist. His damp hair dripped water onto his bare chest. Though Arthur was a man in his early fifties, he still looked youthful and fit. He had abs and taut muscles that made him look even more striking. His skin carried the warm, golden tone of desert sand. Slowly tilting his head, the corner of his lips curved into a smirk.