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!"

rushed to support him, only to hear the faint sound of droplets hitting

head deeply, large tears streaming from his

the organizing. Don't push yourself," Justin said, holding his trembling shoulders, his own

harshly and used his arms to push himself up from the floor, taking slow steps towards the stairs. Justin watched his stubborn yet fragile back, feeling an unbearable

their younger days-how Ryan would always boast about Yasmin, calling

was not just Ryan's loyal subordinate. She was the person who cared most for him-his dearest friend, someone

was clean and simple, with only a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk, showing no sign that

under the pretense of helping, dared not move anything. They stood at the doorway, watching

gowns, each meticulously stored in plastic garment bags,

eyes as memories flooded

"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