After the Divorce: Crushed on My Lawyer Ex-wife

#103 “There will be Some Serious Progress.”

The day before Sophia’s departure to the United States hung heavy with questions. The police station, a place that had become both a battleground and a sanctuary, beckoned her once again. The air was charged with anticipation as she stepped into the familiar surroundings.

Detective Turner, the stalwart figure at the center of the investigation, greeted her. “Sophia, we have some news,” he began, leading her into an interrogation room.

As they settled Detective Turner shared the unexpected twist in the case. “The real murderers have been arrested. They confessed to the crime, detailing a dispute with the victim that tragically escalated into murder. They claim that the decision to frame you was born out of panic and desperation, not orchestrated by any mastermind.”

Sophia’s eyes narrowed with skepticism and frustration. “No mastermind? What about the mysterious person we uncovered, the one pulling the strings?”

Detective Turner sighed, the weariness etched on his face. “There’s no trace of the mysterious person. The killers insist they acted alone, and our investigations haven’t uncovered any evidence to the contrary. It seems the truth of this case is shrouded in the shadows we can’t penetrate.”

Sophia, grappling with the implications, felt a sense of resignation settle over her. The intricate web she had sought to unravel seemed to slip further from her grasp. The elusive mastermind, the puppeteer orchestrating the events, remained a phantom in the shadows.

“But we had evidence, messages, connections,” Sophia protested, her voice edged with frustration Detective Turner nodded solemnly. ” We explored every lead, Sophia. The virtual trail went cold, and the killers provided no information about any mysterious person. It’s as if he vanished into thin air.”

As the weight of the revelation settled, Sophia contemplated the implications. The real murderers had been apprehended, and justice was served, but the enigma of the mysterious person lingered, casting a long shadow over her understanding of the events.

Leaving the police station that day, Sophia walked through the bustling streets of London with a sense of both closure and lingering unrest. The city, with its timeless facade, seemed to absorb the echoes of her steps. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the true orchestrator of the chaos remained at large, hidden behind layers of deception.

evening, as she packed her belongings for the journey back to the United States, Sophia grappled with the realization that some mysteries defy unraveling. In the quiet of her hotel room, Sophia reflected on the

had gotten away, and that annoyed her, but deep down Sophia knew it was Megan. She was

her suitcase with a sense of finality. The click of the latch seemed to echo the closing of a

illuminated the

and I hope

smile played on Sophia’s lips, and she made her way to the door to welcome him. As it swung open, she was met with the sight

a little early?” she teased, replacing a conventional greeting with a playful remark. “Our

would travel on my private jet. Why wait when we can be just the two of us drinking champagne, and you owe me a conversation? You have no work to do

surprise and amusement coloring her expression. The notion of a private jet was unexpected, yet she couldn’t deny that such gestures had become synonymous

arranged a private jet?” she inquired, the curiosity evident in

as a musician, and this

feigning consideration for a moment, couldn’t help but chuckle at the

fair to me. You arrange a plane for me, and I’ll regale you with tales of my music studies.” The agreement hung in the air, punctuated by Alexander’s

engines created a backdrop of subdued noise as Alexander and Sophia sat in plush seats, flying across the Atlantic toward the United States. The luxurious interior of the plane reflected the opulence that accompanied Alexander’s

ocean below. The journey back to the

you arranging this,” Sophia said, breaking the silence. “It’s

horizon. ” Home has a way of grounding us. But,

the case, there’s one clue

You think a puppet

carefully crafted. It’s not just about framing me; it’s about controlling the entire story. We need to