Chapter 12 - VISITING ROOM 4
Fifty miles south of the city, the Federal Detention Center sat like a concrete monolith behind three layers of razor wire.
Inside Visiting Room 4, the air was cold, smelling faintly of industrial floor cleaner and stale coffee. A thick pane of bulletproof glass separated two wooden stools, flanked by heavy steel doors.
Isabella Vance sat on the metal chair, wearing an oversized, coarse orange jumpsuit. Her dark hair was unwashed and pulled into a messy knot; her manicured nails were chipped, and the deep bruise on her left cheek from Marcus’s hand had turned a dark, ugly greenish-purple.
The heavy steel door on the visitor's side unlocked with a loud CLANG.
Khloe stepped into the room.
She wore a tailored cream wool coat buttoned over a dark silk dress. Though her walk was still measured and cautious—her body still healing from the emergency surgery—her spine was straight, her chin held high, and her eyes completely clear.
Behind her stood Julian, his arms crossed over his chest, posting himself silently by the door like a silent sentinel.
Isabella stared through the glass, her dark eyes filling with a mixture of shock, rage, and bitter humiliation. She slowly picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver attached to the wall.
Khloe sat down gracefully on the wooden stool, picked up her receiver, and held it to her ear.
"You look terrible, Isabella," Khloe said softly.
Isabella let out a sharp, harsh laugh that turned into a dry cough. "Did you come here to gloat, Khloe? To show off your fancy coat and your big, scary brothers?"
"I came to give you an answer," Khloe replied, her voice calm and level. "In the hospital room, before you tried to ruin my life, you asked me if I really thought a baby would save my place in the Mercer empire."
Isabella’s jaw tightened, her fingers gripping the plastic receiver until her knuckles turned white.
"I never cared about the Mercer empire, Isabella," Khloe continued, leaning forward slightly. "I cared about my husband. I cared about my home. But you were so blinded by greed, so desperate to steal a life that wasn't yours, that you destroyed the only man who ever trusted you."
"Marcus is a weak fool!" Isabella spat into the receiver, her voice cracking with wild bitterness. "He was easy to manipulate! I ran his company, I managed his life, and he would have given me everything if you hadn't showed up with your stupid, perfect family!"
"Marcus was weak," Khloe agreed quietly. "That's why I left him. But you, Isabella... you're going to spend the next twenty years in a federal cell facing attempted murder, corporate fraud, and conspiracy. The offshore accounts you stole are gone. Your uncle is in the wing right next to yours. You have nothing left."
Isabella slammed her hand against the glass, leaving a greasy palm print. "I'll hire the best lawyers! My family has connections!"
"Your family's assets were frozen two hours ago," Julian's voice echoed calmly from behind Khloe. "And every reputable defense attorney in the state has already declined your case. You're going to court with a public defender, Ms. Vance."
Isabella's hand slid slowly down the glass. All the venom, the arrogance, and the manic energy seemed to drain out of her all at once, leaving behind a hollow, terrified shell.
Khloe set the phone receiver back onto its hook, stood up, and smoothed her coat.
May you like
"Goodbye, Isabella," Khloe whispered through the glass.
She turned and walked out of the room, leaving the sound of Isabella’s frantic, muted pounding against the bulletproof pane behind her.
