My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 194

The drawing was of a yellow dog, a classic mutt with perky ears and big, round, innocent eyes.

Next to the dog was a small, crudely drawn wooden doghouse, surrounded by sunflowers and daisies.

“This is Rex. He was the director’s dog,” the child explained, looking down at the drawing. “The director said Rex was a very good, loyal boy. He died protecting him from bad people.”

“That’s not true!” Hannah cried out, her voice raw with emotion.

It’s not true!

Rex didn’t die protecting Jason! It’s all a lie!

Her sudden shout startled Lionel. The child froze, his eyes wide with fear.

“Why are you yelling? You’re scaring him.”

Lionel took the drawing from the child and knelt down, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Go tell Mr. Cooper we’ll be out in a minute.”

The child’s eyes welled up with tears. He nodded meekly and ran off.

Lionel’s frown deepened. He let out a frustrated sigh and placed the drawing on the sink.

“What is your problem? If you’re angry with me for bringing you here, take it out on me. Why are you yelling at a child?”

He looked at Hannah, at her strange expression—a mixture of terror, anger, and profound sadness.

“You grew up in an orphanage. You of all people should know how fragile these kids are, how much they need love and care. Yelling like that for no reason… you terrified him.”

A coldness began to spread through Lionel’s heart. He had planned this trip because of everything that had happened between them recently, hoping it would help.

Not everyone had a heart full of love and compassion like Sandra, not even those who came from the same circumstances.

Disappointed…

Hearing those words from his lips, Hannah’s clenched fists slowly, painfully, uncurled.

“You don’t know anything. You don’t understand anything,” she said, her eyes rimmed with red. She clenched her jaw, pushed him aside, and started walking towards the main gate.

Lionel hurried after her, grabbing her arm to stop her.

“What don’t I understand?” he demanded, looking at her cold, impassive face. “All I know is that Sandra has spent the last two years dedicating her time and money to this place. She even comes here to volunteer. But you?”

He tightened his grip. “You left this place and never looked back. Forget donating, you haven’t even visited once. I bring you here today to try and lift your spirits, and you act like you’ve seen a ghost. You can’t even stomach a glass of pear juice. I’ve never seen you be so picky. Are you really that ashamed of where you come from?”