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 the faint sound

streaming from his tightly closed eyes, hitting the floor like falling

I handle the organizing. Don't push yourself," Justin said, holding his trembling

floor, taking slow steps towards the stairs. Justin watched his stubborn yet fragile back, feeling an unbearable pain in

days-how Ryan would always boast about Yasmin, calling her

She was the person who cared most for him-his dearest friend, someone he trusted with his life. They arrived at the room where

a wardrobe, and a desk, showing no sign

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

gowns, each meticulously stored in plastic

in his eyes

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 feeling of having my little sister ogled by other men. It