My Mother-in-law Poisoned My Food To Prove My Deadly Allergy Was Fake.

He said it wasn’t enough because she still found a way to hurt me. I didn’t know what else to say, so I just held his hand while he cried.

The nurse came in around midnight to check my vitals. She said the doctor wanted to keep me overnight for observation.

She explained that I’d ingested a really concentrated dose. My blood pressure was still high, and my breathing was still a little rough.

The doctor came in an hour later with my chart. She sat on the edge of my bed and went through everything.

She said the amount Linda used could have killed me within minutes. She said if James hadn’t used the EpiPen immediately, I wouldn’t have made it to the hospital.

That made my stomach drop. She kept talking.

She said my body had been exposed to repeated small doses over two years. She said that kind of exposure can make allergies worse instead of better.

She said I’d probably have increased sensitivity to shellfish now. She said I might need to carry two EpiPens instead of one.

I wanted to scream. Linda had literally made my medical condition worse with her testing.

The doctor prescribed me new EpiPens and stronger antihistamines. She said I needed to be extra careful from now on.

I woke up the next morning to my sister, Catalina, bursting through the door. She’d driven four hours overnight to get to the hospital.

She took one look at me in the bed with the IV still in my arm and started crying. Then she got angry.

Her face turned red and she started pacing. She said she never trusted Linda from day one.

She said Linda always gave her bad vibes. She asked why I didn’t tell her how bad the testing had gotten.

I felt embarrassed admitting it. I said I was trying to keep the peace for James’ sake.

Catalina stopped pacing and stared at me. She said that sounded really stupid now that I almost died.

I knew she was right. I’d let Linda abuse me for two years because I didn’t want to cause family problems.

Catalina sat down in the chair James had been using. She said from now on I needed to tell her everything.

She said she didn’t care about keeping peace with people who tried to kill me. I promised I would.

She stayed with me all day while James went home to shower and change clothes. Three days later, I got a call from someone named Blake McCarthy.

He said he was the district attorney handling Linda’s case. He wanted to meet with James and me to discuss the charges.

We drove to his office downtown. Blake was younger than I expected, maybe forty, with a sharp suit and tired eyes.

He had all the evidence spread out on his conference table. He showed us the notebook, the bottles, photos of the restaurant, and security footage.

He said they were filing charges of attempted murder and assault with a deadly weapon. He explained that the notebook showed clear planning over time.

The pharmaceutical-grade shellfish extract showed intent to harm. He said the case was strong enough that he felt confident about getting a conviction.

He asked if we had any questions. James asked how long Linda could go to prison.

Blake said attempted murder could be fifteen to twenty years depending on the judge. That should have felt good, but I just felt tired.

I didn’t want to think about Linda or trials or any of it. I just wanted to feel safe eating food again.

A week after the incident, James’ phone rang. It was his father, Kenji.

James put it on speaker. Kenji asked if we could meet him at a coffee shop near our apartment.

We agreed and drove over that afternoon. Kenji was already sitting at a corner table when we arrived.

He looked like he’d aged ten years in one week. His face was gray, and he had deep circles under his eyes.

We sat down, and he started talking immediately. He said he had no idea Linda was doing this to me.

He said Linda always dismissed my allergy when he wasn’t around. But when he was there, she acted concerned and supportive.

He said she’d been lying to him for years. His hands were shaking as he stirred his coffee.

Then he said he was filing for divorce. He said he couldn’t stay married to someone who tried to kill his daughter-in-law.

He said he wanted to testify against her in court. James’ whole face crumpled when his dad said that.

I could see it was breaking his heart even though he said he understood. Kenji reached across the table and squeezed James’ hand.

He said he was sorry he didn’t see what Linda was doing sooner. Two days after meeting with Kenji, my phone rang from a number I didn’t recognize.

I answered it and immediately wished I hadn’t. Linda’s sister was screaming at me before I could even say hello.

She said I was tearing the family apart. She said Linda would never actually hurt anyone.

She said I must have done something to provoke this whole situation. She called me dramatic for making such a big deal about a little seafood.

I tried to explain about the concentrated extract and the notebook. She talked right over me.

She said, “Families forgive each other and I was being vindictive by pressing charges.”

She said, “Linda was a good woman who made one mistake.”

I hung up on her. My hands were shaking.

James asked who it was, and I told him. He got angry and said he’d block her number, but the call had already shaken me.

I realized there were people in Linda’s family who would always take her side. It didn’t matter how much evidence existed; they decided I was the villain, and nothing would change their minds.

Forensic Proof and the Trial Verdict

Blake called us back to his office three weeks after the first meeting. He had new documents spread across the table.

He showed us the forensic analysis of the shellfish extract from Linda’s purse. The report was full of technical language, but Blake translated.

He said it was medical-grade concentrated allergen, the kind that costs hundreds of dollars per bottle. It is the kind you have to order from specialty medical suppliers.

You can’t just buy it at a store. Linda had to actively search for it online.

She had to pay for expedited shipping. She had to sign forms confirming she understood what it was.

Blake said this proved the poisoning wasn’t some quick decision; it was a planned attack. Linda had spent time and money to get something that could kill me.

She’d researched where to buy it and waited for the right opportunity to use it. The forensic report made everything feel more real and more horrible.

This wasn’t a confused old woman making a mistake. This was someone who planned to hurt me.

I tried to go back to normal life after leaving the hospital, but everything felt wrong. I’d make myself lunch and then stare at it for twenty minutes.

My heart would start racing, and my hands would shake. I couldn’t make myself take a bite of anything I hadn’t personally prepared from scratch.

Even then, I’d panic. James would order takeout, and I’d refuse to eat it.

I lost eight pounds in two weeks. James called my doctor and explained what was happening.

She recommended a therapist named Summer Castillo, who specialized in trauma. I met Summer at her office the following week.

She had a calm voice and didn’t make me feel crazy. She said what I was experiencing was a normal trauma response to being poisoned.