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.

sheet. It’s where your grandfather resided in London three years ago. And when you realize I’m telling the

paper, and Sophia accepted it, her skepticism turning into curiosity. Before departing, the

staring at the address with a sense of foreboding. It was a puzzling turn

taxi ride back to her hotel,

her hand, she ordered a room service of coffee and muffins. These creature comforts would keep her alert and focused as she delved into the mystery at

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

that the address alone wouldn’t suffice; she needed more information to connect the dots. Her next task was to discover the owner of the apartment,

and decided to access the website of London’s town planning. It was a meticulous process, navigating through bureaucratic databases, property records, and municipal resources. She was aware that the answers to her questions might be buried

long for her to confirm the existence of an old man named Christopher Johnson connected to the address she had been provided. Her heart quickened as she realized that the stranger had not led her astray. It was clear that her grandfather had

drafted a text message and sent

the stranger’s concise response: “Wait for me there.” A smile of satisfaction played on Sophia’s lips as she

the stranger. She looked around the building from the outside. There

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

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

search, each step echoing through the deserted

room’s wooden floors creaked underfoot, complaining about the intrusion, as Sophia meticulously examined the spaces, her fingers tracing patterns