After the Divorce: Crushed on My Lawyer Ex-wife

#86 “How do you know my grandfather?”

Sophia scrutinized the man with a keen eye, her gaze taking in every detail. He was cloaked in a long black coat, and a hat cast a shadow over half of his face. Nothing about his appearance rang familiar, and an unsettling feeling gnawed at her.

A furrowed brow accentuated her suspicion as she inquired, “How do you know my grandfather?”

The man’s reply was curt, offering no explanation. “That’s not important now. He wanted me to meet you and give you a message.”

Sophia didn’t appreciate his evasive response; it only heightened her wariness. “Then tell me the message,” she shot back sharply. Unfazed by her skepticism, he continued, “Not here. We need to go to a more secluded place to…”

Sophia cut him off abruptly. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

A cold, enigmatic smile played upon the man’s lips. He produced a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket, hastily scribbling down something.

“To confirm my words, check the address on this sheet. It’s where your grandfather resided in London three years

paper, and Sophia accepted it, her skepticism turning into curiosity. Before departing, the man issued a parting message. “I’ll be waiting for your

crowd of people. Sophia held the piece of paper, staring at the address with a sense of foreboding. It was a puzzling turn of events, and she couldn’t deny the intrigue that now gripped

had instilled in her. After a quick taxi ride back to her hotel, she found herself unable to enjoy the rest of the day. The mysterious address on the paper was like

hotel room, she wasted no time. With the note clutched in her hand, she ordered a room service of coffee and muffins. These creature

her laptop and initiated her search. She Googled the address, inputting the street name given by the stranger. Her eyes scanned through various results, bringing

was determined to uncover the truth. She knew that the address alone wouldn’t suffice; she needed more information to connect

London’s town planning. It was a meticulous process, navigating through bureaucratic databases, property records,

of an old man named Christopher Johnson connected

anticipation, she drafted a text message and sent it to the phone number he had provided, arranging to meet at the front

response: “Wait for me there.” A smile of satisfaction played on Sophia’s lips as she leaned back in her chair. Finally,

stranger. She looked around the building from the

his steps brisk and purposeful. His arrival disrupted the silence that had settled around the dilapidated building. With a nod, he invited Sophia

musty odor greeted them, a testament to the apartment’s long abandonment. It was as though the very walls exhaled the passage of time, exhaling the stories they held within. Sophia’s eyes scanned the dark room, its once vibrant colors now faded, and cobwebs clung to forgotten corners. The place felt frozen in an era long

to explore, his eyes guarded, as if he knew more than he let on. She began her search, each step echoing through the deserted place. Sophia moved

wooden floors creaked underfoot, complaining about the intrusion, as Sophia meticulously examined the spaces, her fingers