A year later. Thanksgiving. I decided to visit the soup kitchen in Brooklyn.It was one of my new charity foundation's projects. Free meals for the homeless and poor families."Miss Isabella, we're expecting over three hundred people today," the volunteer coordinator reported. "All the food is prepped."I nodded, walking through the kitchen, inspecting the work.As one of New York's most powerful women, every public appearance I made was now media fodder."Queen of Charity on the Front Lines." "The Underworld's Angel of Kindness."The headlines made me laugh. If they only knew what happened a year ago.Three PM. I was about to leave.My bodyguard opened the car door for me. Just then, I saw something on the corner of the street.A figure in torn clothes was digging through a dumpster.He moved carefully, like a startled cat.His hair was gray, his beard was a mess, and his coat was ripped to shreds.But that back... I'd never forget that back."Wait a second," I told my bodyguard.I wa
Read more
LOGIN
