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.

you don’t believe me, Miss Johnson,” he sneered. “To confirm my words, check the address on this sheet. It’s where your grandfather resided in London three years ago. And when

accepted it, her skepticism turning into curiosity. Before

paper, staring at the address with a sense

and intrigue that the stranger’s note 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 a riddle that demanded

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

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

more information to connect the dots. Her next task was to discover

to access the website of London’s town planning. It was a meticulous process, navigating through bureaucratic databases, property records,

Sophia’s meticulous efforts began to yield results. It didn’t take long for her to confirm the existence of an old man named Christopher Johnson connected to the

confirmation, Sophia felt compelled to take action. With a sense of anticipation, she drafted a text message and sent it to the phone number he had

heart quickened as she received the stranger’s concise response: “Wait for me there.” A smile of satisfaction played on Sophia’s lips as she leaned back in her chair. Finally, some clue

front of the address, waiting for the stranger. She looked around the building from the outside. There was nothing special about it, just an ordinary condominium

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

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

began her search, each step echoing through the deserted

as Sophia meticulously examined the spaces, her fingers tracing patterns in the dust.