The Divorced Heiress’s Revenge

Ryan slowly stepped into the living room, his reddened eyes scanning the surroundings. Everything looked the same as before, as if nothing had happened. "Mr. Hoffman, you are back."

A gentle and respectful voice, ethereal and melodious, floated into his ears.

Ryan's face instantly lit up with a warm smile, and he reflexively responded, "I'm back."

However, he would never hear the next sentence again.

With a thud, Ryan could no longer hold himself up. His once proud and tall frame collapsed, his knees hitting the floor as he curled into a cocoon.

"Ryan!"

"Mr. Hoffman!"

him, only to hear

deeply, large tears streaming from his tightly closed eyes, hitting

I handle the organizing. Don't push yourself," Justin

Ryan wiped his tears harshly and used his arms to push himself up from the floor, taking slow steps towards the stairs. Justin watched his stubborn yet

about Yasmin, calling her his little follower with an

Ryan's loyal subordinate. She was the person who cared most for him-his dearest friend, someone he trusted with his life. They arrived at the room where Yasmin had

bed, a wardrobe, and a desk, showing no sign that it had belonged

at the doorway, watching Ryan's fingers gently trace the surface of the desk and the neatly made bed, feeling

exquisite evening gowns, each meticulously stored in plastic

up in his eyes as

social gathering, needing a female companion, it was always Yasmin by my side," Ryan said, pulling bright red evening gown with a tearful smile. "I still remember stunning she looked in these dresses. Those lecherous men could not take their eyes off her, and every time I took her out, I would come back inexplicably furious. It was not romantic jealousy, just the