At first, Sister Maria believed she could hide the fact that she was pregnant.
Loose robes, careful posture, and long hours spent alone in the chapel's garden helped conceal the gentle swell that grew beneath her waist.
For months she prayed that her condition might remain unseen until she could find a discreet way to leave.
But secrets rarely survive in a place where gossip travels faster than the church bells.
Whispers began softly.
Curiosity about why she fainted during morning prayers, why her face looked tired yet radiant, why her hands always drifted protectively toward her midsection.
And then one morning, as the sunlight cut through the stained-glass windows, a fellow sister caught sight of her figure from the side and gasped.
Within days, the entire Hawthorne Estate was alive with rumor.
A nun—holy and sworn to the Goddess—carrying a child?
It was unthinkable.
What began as disbelief quickly twisted into malice.
