She'd entered the red-light district at fifteen. Latched onto the Sanchez family's eldest son at eighteen. The three years in between produced a list of men long enough to fill a page. Several of them were still prominent figures in Harbor City.
Every damning photo, every sordid detail was fed straight to every media outlet in the city.
The articles lasted less than thirty minutes. Every reposted link turned into a 404 error. Every forum thread was scrubbed clean, as though none of it had ever existed.
The hospital room door was kicked open.
Ivor stormed to her bedside, radiating fury. Every trace of tenderness had been stripped away.
"I warned you not to touch her. You just had to push me, didn't you? You really think I won't do anything to you?"
"Since you're so fond of dragging people's pasts into the light, I'll make sure all of Harbor City sees exactly who the real lunatic is. The real vicious, scheming thing."
Before the sun had even set, the bombshell about Jocelyn Henson was all over the city. Fabricated psychiatric records circulated everywhere—official-looking documents declaring she suffered from severe paranoid personality disorder with uncontrollable violent tendencies.
Even the three childless years of her marriage were twisted into a narrative of mental illness ravaging her body. Rumors spread that she had repeatedly tried to harm the baby she carried.
Overnight, the woman every socialite in Harbor City had once envied became a madwoman no one would go near. The Henson family's businesses took collateral damage from the fallout.
Ignoring every objection from the doctors, Ivor seized the opportunity to have her transferred to Stillwater Abbey on the outskirts of the city, under the polished excuse of "rest and recuperation."
Jocelyn tried to escape multiple times. Each attempt was intercepted. Ivor never showed his face; he only sent someone with her medication each day.
The meditation chamber was cold and damp. Jocelyn stared at the occasional flash of headlights on the road below the mountain, trapped in that tiny room with nowhere to go.
Then, on her birthday, rain fell over Stillwater Abbey all through the night.
A sound came from outside the door. Jocelyn opened it, puzzled, and found an unfamiliar monk standing in the rain, holding out a letter.
The letter bore no signature, only a few spare lines.