MIL Hates me, Everyday She Added Everything to my Meals that I was Allergic to, My Hubby Didn’t Care

The Pattern of Illness and Hidden Proof

Especially knowing how much George adored and respected his mother, he wouldn’t have believed me without proof. A few months later the same scenario repeated itself and this time I couldn’t stay silent.

I confronted George.

“We need to talk,”

“Don’t you find it strange that every time we eat at your parents’ place I get extremely sick?”

“What are you implying?” George asked, clearly on edge.

“It’s just odd, isn’t it? We eat out all the time and nothing happens, but it’s only at your parents’ place that I get sick,”

“Are you suggesting your mom might be tampering with the food? If that’s what you think,” he replied defensively.

“Do you have any proof?”

“No, but how dare you accuse her of such a thing?”

“My mother is the kindest person. She would never do anything like that,”

“George, I love you and I know you love your mom, but getting sick four times under the same circumstances is hard to ignore,”

“Please, let’s not dismiss this as just a theory. It’s important,”

George, frustrated and upset, decided to sleep in the guest bedroom that night. Although I regretted causing any upset, I couldn’t ignore the pattern that had emerged. I grew increasingly wary and paranoid about eating at his parents’ house.

Convinced that something was not right, given the situation, I decided to avoid causing any drama between George, his parents, and myself. So I began making excuses not to visit their house.

However, there was a noticeable change in George’s demeanor after these dinners. He would return acting closed off and distant.

No matter how I tried to engage him in conversation, he remained unresponsive. Looking back, I suspect that was around the time he discovered what Lori had been doing to my food.

Despite my reservations, I couldn’t always avoid their invitations, especially not for significant events like Lori and Justin’s anniversary or Justin’s birthday. I felt compelled to attend these gatherings.

Predictably, after each event I returned home feeling ill. The first time I kept my discomfort to myself.

But after falling sick again following the second event, I brought it up with George. This led to a massive argument as he perceived my concerns as direct accusations against his mother.

It was deeply frustrating. I was the one suffering, yet my attempts to discuss my health concerns were seen as attacks on his family.

Each conversation about my illness ended in conflict, with George interpreting it as a personal affront. Exhausted from the constant arguments and the recurring illness, I reluctantly attended another dinner.

This time celebrating Justin’s raise, as expected, I fell ill once again. This was the seventh occurrence and it was too much to dismiss as mere coincidence.

I had spent too much time rationalizing these incidents as bad luck or unrelated to the dinners at George’s parents’ house, but the pattern was clear.

Knowing that Lori’s birthday was approaching and anticipating yet another dinner invitation, I decided I needed to take action. George remained convinced of his parents’ innocence so I knew I couldn’t rely on his help.

Determined to uncover the truth, I prepared to investigate during the next dinner. I purchased a hidden camera disguised as a common object.

Just in case I couldn’t freely snoop around, as the day arrived, I prepared myself both mentally and with my hidden camera to finally get to the bottom of what was happening at George’s parents’ house.

I greeted them with a warm smile and offered Lori my help in the kitchen, but she was resolute that I should not assist her.

“Why don’t I help you with the food?” I asked, eager to be involved.

“Oh no, absolutely not,” Lori responded quickly.

“But it’s your birthday. Why don’t you relax while I handle things?”

“No, you should go sit down, especially since you’re our guest,”

“Nonsense, I’m your daughter-in-law, we’re family,” I insisted, trying to bridge the distance.

“Evelyn, it’s okay, I have a lot to get done and I don’t need any help,” she replied firmly.

“If you insist,” I conceded, “but let me know if you need help setting the dishes or even washing them afterward,”

“Oh yes, you can do that, but first I need George’s help in the kitchen,”

“What could he do that I can’t?”

“Nothing, I just need him to get something heavy from the top cabinet,”

“All right, I’ll be sitting on the patio, but first I’ll just grab myself a bottle of water,” I said.

I was still puzzled by her insistence on me not helping. Her determination to keep me away from the kitchen preparations only deepened my suspicions.

Why did she specifically need George’s help? I was tall and quite strong, a fact I’m confident about as I work out regularly at the gym.

I didn’t want to believe that George could be involved. But his adamant claims that nothing was wrong with the food at his parents’ place made me wonder if he knew what was happening.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about the possibility of him being complicit. But I knew that I had to address this issue first.

I needed to find a discreet place to set up the hidden camera, ideally one that would capture the stove where Lori was cooking.

Thankfully, Lori, George, and Justin were too engrossed in their conversation to notice my extended absence. I also decided to look around and see if I could find anything unusual myself.

I didn’t have to search far. Right next to the stove on the counter was a collection of spices. Among which was an open bottle of nutmeg.

I am highly sensitive to Nutmeg. My body reacts to it as though it were a harmful invader.

It causes symptoms like stomach aches, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. All symptoms I had experienced every time I dined at their place.

The sight of the open nutmeg bottle sent a surge of anger through me. I remember informing George about my nutmeg allergy during my first dinner at their house.

Had Lori been deliberately adding it to my food, and was George aware and still allowing it to happen? The betrayal stung deeply, and I knew I had to confront this situation head-on.

I managed to steady my nerves by reminding myself that the camera footage would soon answer all my questions. I grabbed a bottle of water and settled myself on the patio.

It wasn’t long before Justin came out to join me. Sensing an opportunity, I decided to subtly probe to see if he had any knowledge of the ongoing issues.

“So how’s everything, Justin?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Not so great. My health has been a bit off,” I confessed, hoping to gauge his reaction.

“Oh no, what’s going on?” Justin’s concern seemed genuine.

“Well, I’ve been having some really bad stomach aches and diarrhea,”

“It’s strange because it only happens after I eat here,”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there something you’re allergic to?”

“Yeah, nutmeg, but that’s it really,” I explained, watching his expression carefully.

“Well, I can assure you it’s not that. Lori despises nutmeg so I can’t imagine it being used here,” Justin replied, looking puzzled.

“Does this not happen when you eat elsewhere?”

“No, I’ve tested it out and it only occurs after eating here. I guess I might visit the doctor if it happens again after tonight,”

“Do let me know if you need any help,” he offered.

This confirmed to me that Justin was likely unaware of any deliberate wrongdoing. His demeanor was too sincere and from past experiences I knew he wasn’t capable of maintaining a deception.

Keeping secrets was not his forte. When Lori called us in for dinner, I used the opportunity to excuse myself to retrieve the camera discreetly.

I walked into the kitchen quietly, removed the camera from where I had mounted it on the wall, and then returned to the dining table to join everyone for the meal.

Resolved to endure just one more night, I ate what was served. I knew that I couldn’t check the footage until I was back home.

Sure enough, by the time I returned home I was ill once again. The frequency of these episodes hadn’t lessened their severity.

It felt as harrowing as the first time. George barely acknowledged my distress, which deepened my suspicion of his involvement.