At Our Weekly Sunday Dinner, My Daughter Squeezed My Hand And Whispered

The Final Betrayal

“I’m calling the police.”

I reached for my phone, but Oilia grabbed my wrist.

“No, you can’t! Look at her. She’s finally thin. She’s perfect, just like Sydney’s girls.”

Brandon caught me from behind, his arms locking around me.

“I’m sorry,”

he sobbed against my neck.

“I’m so sorry, but it’s what’s best for all of us. You’ll thank me when we’re in Miami.”

With strength born of pure rage, I broke free and lunged for my phone. Oilia was already dialing 911.

“Please help! My friend has been giving her daughter illegal diet pills. The child is seizing!”

I ripped my phone from my pocket while keeping one hand on Gigi’s shaking body. I screamed over Oilia into my own phone as I dialed.

“No, that’s a lie!”

The 911 operator answered, and I shouted the truth while Xi’s small frame jerked against the hardwood.

“My daughter’s been poisoned with diet pills by her father and his girlfriend. I have text messages proving it. She’s having a seizure. We need help now!”

Help Arrives

The operator’s voice stayed calm, asking for our address while I heard typing in the background.

Brandon stood frozen by the wall, his face white as paper, while Oilia kept babbling into her phone about me being unstable.

I pressed speaker so the operator could hear everything, holding Xi’s head to keep it from hitting the floor while blood mixed with spit ran down her chin.

“EMS and police are three minutes out,”

the operator said.

I counted Gigi’s seizure hitting two minutes, then three, her lips turning darker blue while Oliver watched from the doorway with those empty eyes that broke my heart.

The siren screamed closer, and suddenly the front door burst open. Two paramedics rushed in with their bags.

The first one, a young guy with steady hands, dropped beside us and started checking Xi’s vitals while his partner, an older woman, got the oxygen mask ready.

The Emergency Room

“How long has she been seizing?”

I told them four minutes now while showing them Brandon’s phone with the texts about the pills.

“I’m a nurse. My license is suspended, but I know what I’m seeing. She’s been given stimulants, probably mixed with thyroid medication.”

The woman paramedic nodded, calling it into the hospital while they got an IV started in Xi’s tiny arm.

A patrol officer walked through the door just as they were loading Xi onto the stretcher, his hand on his radio as he looked between all of us.

“We need statements from everyone,”

he said.

But the male paramedic cut him off.

“The kid comes first. You can sort it out at the hospital.”

Confrontation at Home

Brandon started following the stretcher, but the officer stopped him.

“Sir, I need you to stay here.”

Brandon tried his vitamin story again, but I shoved my phone at the officer, showing him screenshot after screenshot.

“These are texts between my husband and her,”

I pointed at Oilia,

“planning to drug my daughter for pageants.”

The officer’s eyebrows went up as he read. Then he called for backup and a detective.

I climbed into the ambulance with Gigi while Oliver ran after me, and I pulled him up too because I wasn’t leaving him alone with Brandon.

At Children’s Hospital

The ride to Children’s Hospital took forever and no time at all. The paramedics worked on Gigi while she finally stopped seizing but stayed unconscious.

We burst through the emergency department doors, and I saw faces I knew from my years working here. The triage nurse Marie’s eyes went wide when she recognized me.

“We need a full tox screen with chain of custody documentation,”

I told her while they wheeled Gigi into a trauma room.

“This is evidence in a criminal case. We need forensic level preservation of all samples.”

Marie nodded and flagged the charge nurse while the ED physician, a tall woman I didn’t recognize, started examining Xi.

Oliver pressed against my side as we watched them work, drawing blood and starting fluids while Xi’s heart monitor showed an irregular rhythm.

Suspicions Confirmed

The physician pulled me aside after twenty minutes, her face serious.

“I have to notify CPS about suspected child endangerment. It’s mandatory reporting protocol.”

My stomach dropped hard because CPS had already investigated me three times when the neighbors kept calling about Gigi fainting. But I nodded because now the truth would finally come out.

“They already have three reports on file blaming me,”

I told her.

“But those were before we knew she was poisoned.”

The social worker showed up within an hour, a young man with kind eyes who took notes while I explained everything.

They moved Gigi up to the PICU for monitoring, and Oliver and I followed, settling into the family lounge with its uncomfortable chairs and flickering TV.

The Diagnosis

Night fell, and Oliver curled up against me, his small voice breaking the silence.

“Is Gigi going to die this time?”

I held him tight and promised she wouldn’t, even though my voice shook, watching the monitors through the glass door while nurses checked on her every few minutes.

The ED physician came back around midnight with preliminary results, pulling me into the hallway.

“We’re seeing elevated levels consistent with stimulant and thyroid hormone exposure,”

she said.

“I’m ordering specialized panels to identify the specific substances.”

Relief washed over me so hard I almost fell. Finally, I had medical proof after months of being blamed for Xi’s weight loss and heart problems.