Chapter 18 - The Ghost in the CellThe next morning, Khloe received a letter that had been heavily screened by Marcus’s security team.
The return address was the Bedford Hills Correctional Facility.
It was from Isabella Rossi.
For two years, Isabella had been rotting in a maximum-security cell. Her father had died of a heart attack in federal prison, leaving her with absolutely nothing. No money. No family. No hope.
Khloe looked at the crumpled, tear-stained envelope on her desk. She didn't open it. She knew what it was—a desperate plea for mercy, a begging letter for a reduced sentence or an appeal.
"Burn it," Marcus said, standing in the doorway of her home office. His jaw was clenched, the mere mention of Isabella’s name reopening old wounds. "You don't owe that psychotic bitch a second of your time."
"No," Khloe said quietly, picking up the envelope. "I don't owe her anything. But I need to do this for me."
Two hours later, Khloe sat in the sterile, fluorescent-lit visitor's room of the prison. A thick pane of bulletproof glass separated her from the inmate side.
A door hissed open, and a guard escorted Isabella in.
Khloe barely recognized her. The glamorous, terrifying heiress who had assaulted her in the hospital was gone. Isabella was skeletal. Her hair was a mousy, graying brown, her skin sallow, her eyes darting and paranoid. When she saw Khloe, a mix of shame and desperate hope flashed across her face.
Isabella picked up the phone on her side of the glass. Her hand trembled violently.
Khloe picked up her receiver.
"Khloe..." Isabella wept, her voice cracked and raw. "You came. Oh God, you came. Please... please, I'm begging you. Tell Marcus to let up. Tell him to stop blocking my parole hearings. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I lost everything! My father is dead, my life is over. Haven't I paid enough?"
Khloe sat perfectly still, listening to the woman who had tried to murder her child.
She felt no anger. She felt no fear. She felt absolutely nothing but pity.
"I didn't come here to forgive you, Isabella," Khloe said, her voice steady and emotionless.
Isabella choked on a sob, pressing her forehead against the glass. "Then why? Why are you here?"
"I came here to look at you," Khloe replied, her eyes cold. "For a long time, you were a nightmare in my head. You were the monster who almost took my son. But looking at you now... you aren't a monster. You're just a pathetic, empty woman."
"Please..." Isabella wailed.
"My son is beautiful. He is strong, and happy, and he will never know your name," Khloe continued, delivering the final, crushing blow. "My husband loves me unconditionally. My company is a global empire. You tried to destroy my life, Isabella, but all you did was show me how powerful I really am."
Khloe stood up. She didn't wait for Isabella to respond.
"I'm never coming back," Khloe said into the receiver. "Rot in hell."
She hung up the phone and walked out of the visitor's room, leaving Isabella screaming and banging her fists against the bulletproof glass until the guards dragged her away.
Stepping out of the prison into the bright sunlight, Khloe took a deep breath of fresh air. Marcus was waiting for her, leaning against the hood of the Maybach.
"Are you okay?" Marcus asked, wrapping her in his arms the second she reached him.
May you like
"I'm perfect," Khloe smiled, leaning up to kiss him. The ghost was finally dead.
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