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.

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

curiosity. Before departing, the man

he 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 puzzling turn of events, and she couldn’t deny

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

wasted no time. With the note clutched in her hand, she ordered a room service of coffee

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

suffice; she needed more information to connect the dots. Her next task was to discover the owner of

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

to confirm the existence of an old man named Christopher Johnson connected to the address

a text message and sent it to

smile of satisfaction played on Sophia’s lips as she leaned back in her chair.

front of the address, waiting for the stranger. She looked around the building from the outside.

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

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

let on. She began her search, each step echoing through the deserted place. Sophia moved carefully, checking every room, every piece of furniture, and every potential hiding place

as Sophia meticulously examined the spaces, her fingers tracing patterns