Chapter 2: The Decision
I didn’t cry at the funeral for my unborn child.
I didn’t scream at Linda. I didn’t accuse her. I didn’t even tell Ryan what I suspected.
Instead, I became quiet.
I spent weeks researching. I read medical journals, old forum posts, and books about toxicology. I learned which substances could damage the body slowly over time without leaving obvious traces in standard tests. I studied dosages. I learned how to make someone weak, confused, and sick without killing them too quickly.
I wanted her to suffer.
I wanted her to feel helpless.
I wanted her to know — deep down — that someone was hurting her, even if no one else believed it.
When Linda started having health problems two years later (high blood pressure, joint pain, and general weakness), I saw my opportunity.
Ryan was worried about her living alone. He mentioned that she might need help.
I smiled and said the words that would change everything:
“Why don’t we move in with her? I can take care of her. It’s the least I can do for your mother.”
Ryan looked at me like I was an angel.
Linda looked at me with suspicion.
But she couldn’t refuse. Not without looking ungrateful.
May you like
So we moved into her house.
And that was when the real game began.
