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 Lawyer Steps In

Just as the silence and tension in the living room reached their peak, the doorbell rang suddenly, a dry untimely sound. Eleanor showed no surprise. She walked calmly to the door as if she already knew of this visitor’s arrival. The door opened, and Richard Mendes appeared in an elegant suit, his demeanor calm and professional. Behind him, an assistant carried a thick briefcase.

Richard’s presence was like a final bucket of cold water extinguishing the last faint spark of hope in the hearts of James and his mother. They realized that Eleanor was not alone; she had solid support, a force they could not underestimate. Richard entered the house, nodded politely to Eleanor, then turned to the two sitting on the sofa, his gaze sharp as if it could see through their souls.

He handed them his business card. His voice was not loud or low, but it carried an invisible weight.

“Good evening, Mr. Parker, Mrs. Parker. I’m Richard Mendes, Eleanor Vance’s attorney.”

He paused, letting the word attorney sink into their panicked minds before continuing.

“I came today to officially inform you of a few things. We have compiled a complete file of all evidence regarding the act of intentional and systematic battery on a pregnant woman and the conspiracy to appropriate assets by you two.”

He signaled to the assistant to place the briefcase on the table. The dry click of the briefcase lock opening in the silence echoed like a judge’s gavel. Richard took out a stack of documents, without showing them, just holding them as if holding their fate.

“This evidence, including videos, audio recordings, medical analysis results, and witness statements, is sufficient grounds to initiate a criminal case according to current law. The act of the lady here can be prosecuted for the crime of aggravated battery, and the gentleman’s act for being an accomplice in covering up a crime. That’s not to mention the issues related to assets in custody that we will clarify in the divorce court.”

Carol began to tremble, and sweat soaked James’s forehead. The dream of getting custody, of making Eleanor leave empty-handed, had vanished. Now the problem was no longer money but freedom. Richard looked them in the eye, delivering the final blow that would crush all resistance.

“And just so you don’t bother thinking, a copy of this file was sent to the police this afternoon. I believe they will be contacting you soon to start the investigation. My advice at this time is for you to find a lawyer for yourselves.”

With that said, Richard didn’t stay a second longer. He nodded to Eleanor and left with his assistant, leaving behind a ruined battlefield. James and Carol slumped on the sofa, their faces drained of blood. They had lost, and disastrously so. The war had not even begun, but they already knew their fate. Power, money, the things they once considered their supreme weapons, were now useless before the net of justice that Eleanor Vance had cast.

The Crash

After Richard left, James and Carol scrambled to gather their personal belongings in a state of extreme panic. There were no more threats, no more crying scenes, only fear. As soon as they got into their luxury car and the door closed, the terrifying silence was broken by Carol’s shriek. She turned to hit her son, her voice was shrill and full of hatred.

“Useless! It’s all your fault! I raised you and educated you for so many years, I handed over the entire business to you, and you can’t even control one woman. Now she’s going to trample all over us. Are you happy that I’m going to jail?”

James, who was in a state of extreme stress, exploded at his mother’s curses. He pushed her away, shouting with equal resentment.

“It’s all your fault, Mom! If you hadn’t done those evil things, we wouldn’t have come to this. I told you a thousand times to stop, but you wouldn’t listen, always thinking only of a male heir, a grandson. Now look, there’s no grandson, only jail.”

He stomped on the accelerator. The car shot off into the night like a wounded animal fleeing. The argument in the car escalated. The mother and son blamed each other; the bitterest words, the long-hidden resentments were unleashed mercilessly. Carol cursed Eleanor as a jinx, and James roared that it was his mother’s stupidity and malice that had ruined everything.

Driving and arguing with his mother, he paid no attention to the road. The car swerved at high speed. Just at a moment of distraction, as he turned to shout at his mother, “It’s all because of you,” James didn’t see the truck pulling out of a side street.

The pitiful screech of brakes was followed by a terrible crash. The luxury car was thrown against the median, the front end mangled, with white smoke rising. All the noise of the argument ceased suddenly, leaving only the sound of the fine rain and the shrill honks from onlookers’ cars.

The Hospital Confrontation

Eleanor Vance had just changed into comfortable pajamas, preparing to enjoy the first night of peace after long days of tension, when her phone rang. It was an unknown number. She picked it up, and an unfamiliar serious voice sounded.

“Am I speaking to Eleanor Vance? This is the District Traffic Police. Your husband, James Parker, has been in a serious car accident. Please come to the central hospital immediately.”

Eleanor froze. The phone almost slipped from her hand. She no longer felt love or concern, but the news shocked her. Her plan had been interrupted by an unexpected turn. She quickly changed her clothes, took a taxi, and headed to the hospital. The chaos of the emergency room hit her: the smell of disinfectant, the sound of doctors’ and nurses’ hurried footsteps, the cries of patients’ families—it all mixed together in a deafening jumble.

She saw two gurneys being pushed into the operating room with two blood-covered figures. Although she couldn’t see their faces, she knew it was James and his mother. Her plan of legal direct revenge had just taken a different turn, a turn full of chaos and uncertainty.

The atmosphere in the central hospital’s emergency room was chaotic and suffocating. Eleanor Vance sat on the cold row of waiting chairs, her belly now noticeable under her coat, made her stand out in the crowd. She had just contacted Richard Mendes to briefly inform him of the situation, and he said he would come immediately.

Eleanor felt nothing in particular, no sadness, no joy, just an empty weariness. The play she had directed had an unexpected ending, an ending written by the actors themselves with their own stupidity and rage. Just then, a stylish figure burst into the ER. Her beautiful face was now soaked with tears.

It was Sophia Miller. Seeing Eleanor, she lunged toward her like a moth to a flame, her eyes red and swollen, her voice shrill.

“Eleanor Vance, it was you! It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t pushed them so hard, James and his mother wouldn’t be like this. You’re a wicked witch!”

The familiar scene of blaming the third party. But Eleanor was in no mood to argue. She simply looked up at Sophia, her gaze was cold and distant. She said calmly, her voice without fluctuation.

“Sophia, this is a hospital, not a marketplace. If you want to know who’s right and who’s wrong, wait for the police investigation. Right now, the only person with the legal authority to deal with the hospital is me, James Parker’s legal wife. Please sit on the side and be quiet.”

Eleanor’s calm and rightful authority left Sophia speechless. She could scream, she could curse, but in the eyes of the law, she was nothing. Just then, the operating room door opened. An elderly doctor came out, his face grave. He took off his mask, looked around, and asked,

“Who is the family of James Parker?”

Eleanor stood up immediately.

“I am, doctor. I’m his wife.”

The doctor looked at Eleanor’s belly, a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. He said grimly.

“The patient’s condition is very serious. We’ve done everything we can to save his life, but one of his legs is too crushed with no possibility of recovery. To save his life and prevent infection and gangrene, we propose to proceed with an immediate amputation of the leg. You are his wife; we need your signature of consent.”

Both Eleanor and Sophia were stunned. Amputate a leg? That meant James Parker, the man who had always been so vain about his perfect appearance, would become an amputee. Sophia was paralyzed; her face was paler than a ghost’s. Her dream of a handsome, elegant CEO had been shattered. The love she had always proclaimed was now being put to a cruel test. Did she love the man or just his perfect appearance and wealth?

In that silence, Eleanor took the pen from the nurse. She didn’t hesitate. She signed her name on the surgery consent form decisively and firmly. She did this not out of love or forgiveness; she did it out of human conscience because she did not want to become the kind of person they were, the kind of person who could ruthlessly take away others’ lives.

She wanted her child to know that her mother was a person of principle, even in the worst circumstances. She looked up at Sophia, who had collapsed, with cold pity in her heart. Fate sometimes has ways of punishing that are more ironic and bitter than any legal sentence.