Chapter 1After He Poisoned My Baby, I Unleashed Hell

It was the day before my daughter turned one month old.

The living room was crowded with family.

My husband’s older brother, Tom, wanted to start a small business. He’d scraped together most of the capital but was still short about fifteen thousand dollars.

In front of everyone, he asked if he could borrow the money from us.

The other relatives chimed in, pressuring us to agree.

But I refused without a moment’s hesitation.

Tom’s face fell, his expression turning sour.

His wife, Jessica, let out a cold snort. “See?” she said in a saccharine, passive-aggressive tone. “I told you they wouldn’t lend it. They’re afraid you’ll end up more successful than them.”

Afraid they’d be successful?

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Jessica, you still haven’t paid back the six thousand you borrowed last year.”

She jumped as if I’d stepped on her tail. “Don’t you dare bring that up…”

Before she could finish, a panicked shout came from the bedroom. It was my eldest nephew.

“The baby’s throwing up!”

At first, I wasn’t worried, assuming it was just spit-up. I got up and walked toward the bedroom.

But the scene that met my eyes sent a wave of cold dread through my entire body.

My daughter was vomiting thick, black blood.

…

After a moment of stunned paralysis, I lunged forward and scooped her into my arms.

The other children in the room were terrified. All except for one. My nephew Ethan, Tom and Jessica’s son, had just turned eighteen. He was the oldest of the cousins, and the only one who looked completely calm.

“What happened?” I roared, my voice shaking with fury.

The children flinched, staring at me with wide, frightened eyes, too scared to speak.

My husband, Michael, and the other relatives rushed in.

“Clara, what’s wrong?”

“She’s vomiting black blood.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

Just then, Tom glanced at his son, his brow furrowed. “Did you kids feed her something you shouldn’t have?”

Ethan shrugged. “Impossible. She’s too little. What could we give her besides her formula?”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “She’s probably just being dramatic.”

I looked down at my daughter. The black fluid was still trickling from her mouth, and her tiny body was wracked with violent tremors.

“Call 911!” I screamed at Michael.

But before the ambulance could arrive, my daughter went limp in my arms.

The suddenness of it all sent me into a spiral of panic. I was frozen, helpless, not knowing what to do as tears streamed down my face.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. A small, dark bottle tucked beside the leg of the bed. Pesticide.

A violent shudder went through me. I’d bought that bottle for my mother, who was coming to visit the next day to take it back to her farm. I had stored it safely on a high shelf in the back of the garage.

How did it get into my bedroom?

My mind connected the dots—the bottle, the black vomit. My gaze snapped to the children.

“Who brought that pesticide in here?” I demanded, my voice a low, dangerous growl.

My fierce expression terrified them. The younger ones burst into tears, burying their faces in their parents’ legs.

Only Ethan, Tom’s son, did something completely unexpected.

He smiled.

I stared at him, my voice a raw whisper. “Was it you?”