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.

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

her skepticism turning into curiosity. Before departing, the man

disappeared into the bustling crowd of people. Sophia held the piece of paper, staring at the address with a sense of foreboding. It was a

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

With the note clutched in her hand, she ordered a room service of coffee and muffins. These creature comforts would keep her alert and focused

the window, Sophia opened 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 up pictures of the most ordinary apartment building she had ever seen. There was nothing remarkable about it, and it only added

knew 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, a potentially

It was a meticulous process, navigating through bureaucratic databases, property records, and municipal resources. She was aware that the answers

confirm the existence of an old man named Christopher Johnson connected to the address she had been provided.

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

“Wait for me there.” A smile of satisfaction played

the address, waiting for the stranger. She looked around

later, the stranger appeared, his steps brisk and purposeful. His arrival disrupted the silence that had settled around

walls exhaled the passage of time, exhaling the stories they held within. Sophia’s eyes scanned

gestured for Sophia to explore, his eyes guarded, as if he knew more than he let on. She began her search, each step echoing

creaked underfoot, complaining about the intrusion, as Sophia meticulously examined the spaces, her fingers tracing patterns in the dust. Cobwebs clung to her hair, and she brushed them away, her determination