The Saint Keeps Her Receipts
Language: en
In Hollywood, they called me the industry’s living saint. No matter how vicious the hit pieces became, no matter how toxic the online campaigns grew, I never sued a hater. I never dragged a troll into court. To the public, it looked like boundless grace. To a certain kind of predator, it looked like permission. That saintly reputation was the exact reason an obsessed paparazzo had been shadowing me like a vengeful ghost for months. The escalation peaked on a rainy Tuesday along the winding curves of Mulholland Drive. She chased my SUV with a convoy of frenzied internet stalkers, boxing me…