My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 143

"Mr. Rosenberg, you went out before eating dinner. You should have something now, or it will be bad for your stomach," Cora said, her face a mask of concern.

Lionel looked at her, and for a fleeting moment, it was like he was back in the early days when he and Hannah had just moved in together. She was always worrying he worked too hard, that he’d forget to eat. Back then, her face held the same worried, caring expression as Cora’s did now.

But the Hannah of today…

He looked up at her cold, retreating figure, and a chill spread through his heart. How could she have become so indifferent?

"Hannah," Lionel called out. "Go make me a plate of pastas with shredded pork."

Hannah, already on the stairs, paused. After a few seconds, she let out a small laugh, didn't answer, and continued walking up.

"Hannah!" Annoyed at being ignored, Lionel called her name again, striding over to block her path. He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him.

"I haven't had dinner yet."

His voice was laced with a hint of grievance, his dark eyes fixed on her. He leaned in close, his hot breath brushing against her cheek. The low, wounded tone was meant to pull at her heartstrings.

But it was too late. Her heart had already been shattered by his actions.

"Cora is right there," Hannah said with a smirk, yanking her arm out of his grasp. "Or you could always call Sandra."

She used to watch over him constantly, worried if he was hungry, cold, or thirsty. Her devotion had been met with nothing but his indifference, contempt, and disgust. Why should she bother trying when it was so clearly unappreciated? She still vividly remembered the night she’d cooked a feast and waited for him, only to find out he was having a candlelight dinner with Sandra.

Thinking about it now, Hannah wanted to slap her younger self. How could she have let herself be so cheap?

Cora, who had been listening from the side, seethed with anger and rushed forward.

Lionel was gone, and so was the breakfast on the table.

She walked into the living room and found Cora sitting on the sofa, leisurely sipping a glass of milk.

"You didn't make breakfast?" she asked.

Cora looked up, her eyes scanning Hannah from head to toe. "After you drove Mr. Rosenberg away last night, you still have the nerve to expect breakfast? In your dre—ahhh!"

Hannah strode over, snatched the glass from her hand, and flung the milk in her face.

"Go to the butler, collect your final pay, and get out."

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