Chapter 62: The Tragic Death of Jocelyn
"Come in."
It was Jocelyn's first time visiting Norman's estate, and she was stunned by the opulence before her. The life of the rich truly exceeded anything she had ever imagined.
"This is the life I want," Jocelyn thought.
She was just an ordinary woman, struggling to find happiness in the massive city of New York.
Especially for someone like Jocelyn, who had been born an orphan, getting to where she was now had taken everything she had. She was tired of living without support. Encouraging herself silently, she had already let go of all emotional burdens.
"Mr. Norman."
The moment she stepped in, Jocelyn saw a seemingly rejuvenated Norman. That, to her, was a promising sign. In truth, Jocelyn hoped to one day take control of Oscorp and become its lady.
Of course, even if Norman had been a worn-out older man, Jocelyn wouldn't have minded. Better old meat than no meat at all.
The subtle fragrance of perfume, her full thighs, her slim waist—without a doubt, she was a classic American muscle car.
Looking at the sultry expression in the mirror, Jocelyn was certain: she was the goddess of love herself. Anyone who saw her would drool.
As expected, Norman rushed over and pulled her into his arms.
"Mr. Norman, not so rough," she said. In fact, when Norman had grabbed her wrist just now, it really hurt.
"Norman, stop! I said stop!"
The power Norman had after injecting the serum was something the already screaming-in-pain Jocelyn could no longer resist.
His arms gripped her tightly like iron. The intense pain made Jocelyn nearly lose consciousness.
Poor Jocelyn couldn't break free from Norman's steel-like grip and could only kick him with all her strength.
"You bitch!" Norman snapped back with a ruthless slap. A flood of destruction and killing intent surged in his mind—Norman was furious at Jocelyn's resistance. After the slap, he grabbed her by the throat.
Jocelyn struggled and screamed, but her voice grew weaker and weaker—until she stopped moving altogether.
By the time Norman came back to his senses, Jocelyn had suffocated and was completely still.
He stared in panic at his own hands, then at the bruises on her neck. Only now did he realize he had killed her.
Of course, this wasn't the first time Norman had caused someone's death—but it was the first time he had done it with his own hands. All because Jocelyn had slapped him, Norman had completely lost control.
It was as if his veins were filled with nothing but the desire to destroy and kill.
"What's happening to me?" he muttered, staring at Jocelyn's wide, lifeless eyes.
A trace of guilt crept into Norman's heart.
He did have a conscience—but just a little. Jocelyn wasn't his rival or his enemy. That made him realize how overboard he had gone. But that tiny trace of guilt disappeared just as quickly.
Norman knew very well that turning himself in was not an option. As a powerful man with a vast enterprise, he couldn't allow a single woman to ruin his reputation.
In fact, a dark voice inside him kept tempting and corrupting him.
Half an hour later, Norman had completely calmed down.
What he was most relieved about was this: the woman was an orphan, meaning that if he handled it well, no family would come after him. She didn't even have a boyfriend.
Of course—she was a secretary who had set her sights on her boss. She didn't need a boyfriend.
After carefully cleaning up the scene and wiping away any traces from Jocelyn's body, Norman placed her into her beat-up Chevrolet. He slightly tampered with the brakes and installed a small control module in the electronics, then staged a simple accident.
The brakes failed. The car slammed into the garage wall. The gas tank leaked. A spark from the faulty electronics ignited the car.
As the vehicle went up in flames, Norman—posing as the first responder—ran over with a fire extinguisher. But the fire was too fierce. He couldn't save Jocelyn. All that was left was a charred corpse.
"Officer, that's exactly how the scene happened," Norman explained.
As the first witness who called the police, Norman had to undergo questioning.
He carefully described what he had "seen" and waited for the police's preliminary judgment.
"Mr. Osborn, may I ask why your secretary came to visit you at that hour?" asked one of the officers.
Norman showed an awkward expression at the question.
"Mr. Osborn, please cooperate with the investigation," said George Stacy sternly.
"Deputy Chief, the preliminary lab results are in," said the on-site medical examiner. "The victim appears to have died from severe burns. A full autopsy will still be required for more detailed results."
"Mr. Osborn, unless you give us a proper explanation, you will remain a key suspect... especially since the autopsy may reveal signs of what happened before death. At that point, Mr. Osborn, you may find yourself unable to explain your way out."
"Well," Norman said with a sigh, relaxing slightly, "the plan was simply to spend the night with Jocelyn. But she suddenly had something come up and left in a rush. What happened after that was just a tragic accident. I wasn't trying to hide anything. Director Stacy, you know I'm a single man, and Jocelyn was a single woman. Our relationship broke no laws or moral boundaries."
His admission seemed to ease his demeanor.
"We'll need to inspect your bedroom," said George.
"Of course, Officer Stacy. I'll cooperate."
As the officers entered, they quickly came to understand what kind of "fun" rich people had. Torn black lingerie was strewn everywhere.
The officers silently scoffed at how wild Norman had been.
"These fabric scraps will be kept as evidence. Do you have any objections, Mr. Osborn?"
"None at all, officers. Take them."
"Well, that concludes our investigation for now. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Osborn. Please try not to leave New York in the coming days—we may summon you again."
"In principle, I'm happy to cooperate," Norman replied. "But you know, I'm Norman Osborn—I may have all kinds of obligations. Of course, you can always contact my lawyer. Jocelyn was a beautiful woman, and she supported me greatly these past few years. I'll do my part in the investigation."
Norman's composed attitude dispelled some of George Stacy's suspicions—but only some.
Stacy's doubts stemmed more from his professional instincts as a police officer.
Logically speaking, George Stacy didn't truly believe Norman would do such a thing. For one, Norman had no criminal record. And for another, he was a single man. Having a relationship with his secretary wasn't really a crime