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!"

Justin and Dean hurriedly rushed to support him, only to hear the faint sound of droplets hitting the floor.

Ryan buried his head deeply, large tears streaming from his tightly closed eyes, hitting the floor like falling rain.

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

wiped his tears harshly and used his arms to push himself up from the floor, taking

their younger days-how Ryan would always boast about Yasmin, calling her his little follower with an

was the person who cared most for him-his

simple, with only a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk,

and Dean,

dared not move anything. They stood at

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

exquisite evening gowns, each meticulously stored in plastic garment bags,

eyes as memories

the past, whenever I had

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

that

at himself and said, "Heh... But what does it matter? Someone like

Dean silently cried