Two Years After Divorce, She Knocked on My Door

"You're saying he was buried in a landslide while trying to rescue others?"

Yvonne Larson was dressed in an expensive silk dress and high heels. She looked utterly out of place in the muddy, quaint, and rundown town of the southwest mountainous regions.

Her beautiful features were full of disgust and mockery.

"If you're going to lie to me, you could at least come up with a believable excuse. How could a selfish and self-centered man like him ever grow a conscience?

"Did his friends in Shelston tip him off that my daughter has aplastic anemia? He doesn't want to donate his bone marrow, so he's hiding and had all of you put on this act, right?"

When the surrounding residents heard Yvonne's vicious words, they clenched their fists, and their faces displayed their anger.

"Don't you dare insult Mr. Hoffman! He was the best volunteer in the world!"

"That's right! We won't be courteous to you if you keep talking nonsense like that!"

"This is Mr. Hoffman's wife. Everyone, please calm down."

The town administrator, Michael Frey, hurriedly stepped in to placate the crowd.

He then turned to Yvonne and said, "Since you're so eager to see Mr. Hoffman, I'll take you to where he lives."

Yvonne immediately showed a smug, knowing look.

Michael led her to a shabby little hut on the mountainside at the edge of town. The hut was simple, and its rickety wooden door was secured only by an old, nearly rusted lock.

"This is where Mr. Hoffman lives."

When the door opened, my funeral portrait sat in the center of an old wooden table inside.

Seeing this, Yvonne's pupils contracted sharply, and then she let out a cold laugh. She picked up my funeral portrait and, without hesitation, smashed it violently onto the ground.

The glass frame collided with the uneven ground, shattering instantly and sending up a cloud of dust. Fragments scattered everywhere.

Michael stared at Yvonne, dumbfounded.

While floating in mid-air, I was also panicked.

I knew she held a grudge against me. After all, I had done those things back then. The depth of her love for me in the past was the same as the intensity of her hatred now.

Still, I never imagined she would treat my funeral portrait with such cruelty.

Yvonne was still furious. "You've all gone to extreme lengths just so he can avoid donating bone marrow to his own daughter! How much money did he pay you? You even went so far as to make a cursed thing like a funeral portrait!"

As she spoke, she picked up a cup from the table and threw all its contents onto my portrait.

Then, she used her high heels to stomp forcefully on my portrait and the muddy ground, grinding her heels back and forth.

"Do you really take me for a fool? Look, there are clear signs someone is living here!" she yelled.

"Dad!"

Before Yvonne could finish her sentence, a frail-looking little girl with a bundle on her back ran in breathlessly and shoved her away violently.

The girl burst into tears upon seeing her treasured father's portrait being ruined like this. "You bad person! You big meanie! Who said you could destroy my dad's things?"