My Sil Kept “Joking” About My Miscarriage, Until My Husband Heard Her.

Six months old already, growing strong inside me. And now someone was trying to take her away by destroying me first.

Rachel had really done it. She’d found a way to hurt me worse than any cruel comment ever could.

The forum posts were right there on my account. Searches I’d never made.

Posts about herbs that cause miscarriages. How did she even get into my account?

I tried to think back through the past month. Anytime my laptop was out of my sight.

Any moment Rachel could have accessed my passwords. But we hadn’t been in the same room for six months.

Not since Kevin banned her from our lives after hearing what she said to me at her house. The tea made no sense either.

I hadn’t been to Rachel’s house. I hadn’t seen her at all.

But Kevin said Rachel’s friend saw me there last week. Bringing special pregnancy tea.

Someone saw a pregnant woman at Rachel’s door. And Rachel convinced them it was me.

My phone buzzed on the floor. I couldn’t make myself pick it up.

What if it was the detective again, demanding I come to the station? What if it was Kevin calling back to say even worse things?

The phone kept buzzing, vibrating against the hardwood floor. I finally grabbed it with shaking hands.

Marina’s name flashed on the screen, my best friend. I answered and immediately started crying so hard I couldn’t speak.

She didn’t ask questions. She said, “She was coming over right now.” “To lock the doors until she got there.”

Twenty minutes later, Marina let herself in with her spare key. Found me still on the couch, sobbing into a throw pillow.

She sat down next to me and pulled me into her arms. Letting me cry against her shoulder.

When I could finally breathe enough to talk, I told her everything. The call from Kevin’s mom about Rachel losing her baby.

The accusations about curses and poisoned tea. The fake forum posts on my account.

Kevin believing I actually did this. Marina’s face went hard when I mentioned the police detective.

She pulled out her phone immediately. She said, “You’re not talking to anyone without a lawyer present.” “Not the police, not Kevin’s family, not anyone.”

She started scrolling through contacts while I wiped my face with shaking hands. She said, “I know someone who handles criminal defense.” “Let me call her now.”

I watched Marina make three different calls. Her voice calm and professional even though I could see the anger in her eyes.

She explained the situation to each lawyer. Asking about their experience with false accusations.

By the third call, she’d found someone who could meet with us tomorrow morning. A defense attorney named Evelyn Ryder.

Who specialized in cases exactly like mine. People wrongly accused of crimes they didn’t commit.

Chapter 4: Defense Strategies and Neighborhood Lies

The words felt surreal. Criminal defense, false accusations.

Like I was living in some legal drama instead of my actual life. My baby kicked again, harder this time.

I rubbed the spot on my belly where her little foot pressed against my skin. Marina hung up and turned to me.

She said, “Pack a bag.” “You’re staying at my place tonight.”

I started to protest, but she cut me off. She said, “Kevin thinks you poisoned his sister’s tea.” “You can’t stay here alone with him thinking that.”

“What if he comes back?” “What if he’s angrier than he sounded on the phone?”

She was right. I went to the bedroom and threw clothes into an overnight bag.

Hands still shaking so badly I could barely zip it closed. I grabbed my laptop too.

The one with the fake forum posts that would either prove my innocence or condemn me. We drove to Marina’s apartment in silence.

She kept glancing over at me like she was afraid I might fall apart completely. I probably looked like I was about to.

My face felt swollen from crying, my eyes burned. My stomach was doing flips that had nothing to do with pregnancy.

At her place, Marina made me herbal tea and forced me to drink it. Even though the irony of tea made me want to throw up.

She sat across from me at her small kitchen table and made me go through everything again. Taking notes this time.

Every detail about my relationship with Rachel. Every cruel comment over the past year.

The six months of no contact since Kevin finally heard the truth. She wrote down dates and times.

Building a timeline of when I’d last seen Rachel. Where I’d been over the past few weeks.

Marina said, “Your phone will have location data.” “Credit cards will show where you’ve been shopping.”

“If you weren’t at Rachel’s house, we can prove it.” But what about the forum posts?

What about the tea that tested positive for Pennyroyal? Whatever that was.

Someone had physically brought tea to Rachel’s house. Someone who looked pregnant enough that the neighbor thought it was me.

I barely slept that night on Marina’s couch. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Rachel’s face.

When she announced her pregnancy at Thanksgiving, looking right at me. While hoping her baby would be the first grandchild that actually made it.

I saw Kevin’s expression when he walked in and found me crying at Rachel’s house eight months ago. I heard his voice on the phone today.

Cold as ice, asking what I’d done. Around 3:00 in the morning, I gave up on sleep.

Opened my laptop. The forum was still there.

My account still showing those horrible searches. I tried to figure out how to see where the posts came from.

What computer they were made on. But I didn’t know enough about technology.

That’s what the lawyer would need to figure out. That’s what would prove I didn’t do this.

The next morning, Marina drove me downtown to Evelyn Ryder’s office. The building was tall and glass.

The kind of place that probably cost hundreds of dollars an hour. I started to panic about money.

But Marina squeezed my hand. She said, “Don’t worry about that right now.” “Just focus on telling her everything.”

Evelyn’s office was on the 12th floor, decorated in calm blues and grays. That probably helped anxious clients feel better.

She stood up when we came in, a woman in her 50s with sharp eyes and graying hair. Pulled back in a neat bun.

She shook both our hands and gestured for us to sit in the leather chairs across from her desk. I told her the whole story again.

My voice steadier this time. Evelyn took notes on a yellow legal pad.