After the Divorce: Crushed on My Lawyer Ex-wife

#225 “I Hate This Plan Already.”

Two days had elapsed, marked by a frustrating impasse for Sophia as she wrestled with her grandfather’s cryptic message. The dots and commas seemed to mock her, their arrangement a perplexing puzzle that defied her attempts at decipherment. Each misplaced mark, each incorrect point, served as a frustrating reminder of her inability to crack the code.

With a furrowed brow, Sophia meticulously transcribed the symbols onto a blank sheet of paper, hoping to unlock their hidden meaning. Morse code was her initial suspect, but it proved to be a dead end. Undeterred, she delved into other code systems she had heard of, but each attempt yielded nothing but frustration.

Amidst her struggle, the reassuring sound of Alexander’s voice while they called provided a beacon of comfort. His frequent updates and words of encouragement were a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty that surrounded her.

Yet, with each passing day, Sophia felt the weight of time pressing down upon her. Alexander kept postponing the press conference at which he had promised to justify these documents. She knew he couldn’t do this forever.

In the midst of her frustration, Sophia found solace in the presence of Benjamin and Becky. Their unwavering support and tireless efforts to assist her did not go unnoticed. Their presence brought a glimmer of light to her otherwise dim circumstances, a reminder that she was not alone in her quest for answers.

“Any progress?” Benjamin’s voice broke the tense silence, his concern evident.

She rubbed her temples, feeling the telltale ache of a headache creeping in.

shaking her head in defeat. “Nothing. I’ve tried everything I can think of, but it’s like trying to crack a code written in a language I’ve never

her expression thoughtful. “Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way. What if it’s not a code at

piqued at the

that repeats throughout the text,” Becky explained. “It

She scanned the page again, this time focusing on the placement of the dots

with fresh eyes, a faint realization began to dawn on her. There was indeed a pattern, but it wasn’t in the symbols themselves-it was in the spaces between them. A series of gaps, irregular yet distinct, seemed to form a trail

bubbling up within her. ” It’s not about the

traced the pattern of gaps, connecting the

her heart racing with adrenaline. “A map to

for?” he exclaimed. “Let’s follow the map and

eyes. “First, let’s figure out where it leads to,” she said, her fingers tracing

map onto the cityscape of London, carefully aligning

pointing to

washing over her. ” If my grandfather hid the diary

help but laugh at Sophia’s exasperation, her amusement is evident in the sparkle of her

eye. “And then we’ll see

echoing through the bustling streets of London as