My Mother-in-law Fed Me “special Soup” That Caused My Three Miscarriages. I Caught Her On A Hidden Camera In A Hydrangea Vase. How Should I Execute My Final Revenge?

The Hidden Camera

The next morning, Eleanor Vance woke up with slight dark circles under her eyes but with a strange calm on her face. She didn’t cry or make a scene. Three losses had taught her one thing: agitation and weakness solved no problems and could, in fact, harm the child she was protecting at all costs.

James had already prepared breakfast, a bowl of hot oatmeal and some simple side dishes she liked. He helped her to her seat, affectionately serving her food. Every action exuded the consideration of a perfect husband. He looked at her with some concern.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t you sleep well last night, or are you overthinking things? The doctor said the mother’s mood greatly affects the baby.”

The words of concern sounded like a subtle warning in Eleanor’s ears, as if telling her that her suspicions were due to her oversensitivity, that it was her fault. Eleanor smiled faintly, bringing a spoonful of oatmeal to her mouth.

“It’s nothing, honey. Just the baby kicking a lot lately, making it hard to sleep. You eat before it gets cold.”

She knew that confronting him directly would only result in better-prepared lies. Trust is like paper; once crumpled, no matter how hard you try to smooth it out, it will never be the same again. She needed proof, irrefutable proof, to know what kind of man she had shared her bed with for 5 years.

After breakfast, Eleanor told James she wanted to go to the mall to buy some maternity clothes and some items for the baby. James immediately wanted to go with her, but she tactfully refused.

“I want to pick out some things for our little one by myself. You go to the office. I can drive. I’ll be careful.”

Seeing his wife’s determination, James didn’t insist, only telling her to be careful before leaving. But Eleanor’s destination was not the bustling mall, but an electronic store tucked away on a side street in Queens. She walked into a store specializing in recording equipment with a firm, clear voice.

“I need the best hidden camera with a long-lasting battery that connects directly to a phone.”

The salesman looked at the sophisticated-looking pregnant woman before him, didn’t ask many questions, and quickly handed her a tiny device the size of a pinky fingernail tip. Returning home, Eleanor went straight to the living room. She looked around, her eyes stopping on the large vase of hydrangeas placed on a wooden side table in the corner.

It was her favorite flower and also a gift James gave her on every anniversary. Her hands trembled slightly, but her movements were decisive. She carefully placed the micro camera among the dense blossoms, aiming the lens to cover the entire living room where the sofa and the front door were clearly visible.

A strange feeling washed over her: a bit of guilt for invading privacy, but also the cold determination of someone seeking justice. Once everything was done, Eleanor sat on the sofa, silently looking at the hydrangea vase. The flowers were still vibrant, a soft blue, but now in her eyes, they had become a silent witness.

The hidden camera inside was like the eye of a god about to pull back the velvet curtain of the happiness play to reveal the raw and perhaps devastating truth hidden within. She didn’t know what she would face, but she was sure of one thing: she couldn’t live in deceit for another day.

The Poisonous Soup

For the next two days, Eleanor Vance lived in a state of high alert. She pretended to work in her home design studio, but her mind and eyes were glued to her phone screen, which displayed the live feed from the hidden camera in the hydrangea vase. The house remained quiet. James continued to leave early and return late, calling her from time to time with sweet words.

Everything was so normal that Eleanor sometimes wondered if she was being overly suspicious. But on the afternoon of the third day, the peaceful charade was torn apart. James came home for lunch, which was quite unusual. After eating, he sat in the living room, believing his wife was napping upstairs.

James took out his phone, and his usually composed face became strangely tender and loving. He dialed a number, his voice deepened with a tone Eleanor had never heard before.

“Yes, it’s me. Have you eaten yet? Remember to eat well. Don’t skip meals. It’s not good for our little treasure.”

Eleanor’s heart clenched. Our little treasure. He called another child treasure too. He said a few more comforting words, promising something about a not-too-distant future before hanging up. The evidence of infidelity was as clear as day. But before that pain could settle in, an even more terrifying nightmare befell her.

At that moment, the doorbell rang. His mother, Carol Parker, came in carrying an insulated food container, a radiant smile on her face. She said warmly to her son,

“James, you’re home. I brought some homemade chicken soup for Eleanor. I’ve noticed she’s been looking very pale lately. She needs to eat well so my grandson will be strong and smart.”

James got up to greet her with a filial expression.

“Why did you go to so much trouble, Mom? Worrying about her every day.”

Eleanor, who was upstairs, heard their voices. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the scene about to unfold. She heard Carol say,

“Call your wife down to have it while it’s hot.”

As James went upstairs, Carol was left alone in the living room. She carefully opened the container, pouring the steaming fragrant soup into a white porcelain bowl. Thinking no one was watching, she turned, glanced around quickly, and then her next action made Eleanor Vance, who was witnessing everything through her phone screen, feel her blood run cold.

Carol took a small unmarked paper packet from her purse, skillfully tore it open, and poured all the white powder inside into the bowl of soup. She stirred it gently with the spoon until the powder dissolved completely. All her movements were extremely calm, as if this was something she had done countless times.

The phone almost slipped from Eleanor’s trembling hand. She had to cover her mouth with her other hand to keep from screaming in horror. The nourishing soup, the love from her mother-in-law, turned out to be a perfectly disguised poisoned potion. The three previous miscarriages, the gut-wrenching pain, the time she had blamed herself for not being careful—it all came rushing back with sudden clarity.

It turned out it hadn’t been her fault or fate, but a ruthless, premeditated conspiracy. A conspiracy from the person she had always respected and called Mom.