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.

her head in defeat. “Nothing. I’ve tried everything I can think of, but it’s like trying to crack a code written in

looking at this the wrong way. What if it’s not a code at all,

was piqued at

or symbol that repeats throughout the text,” Becky explained. “It could be something subtle,

She scanned the page again, this time

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

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

traced the pattern of gaps, connecting the dots-quite literally- as she went. Slowly but surely, a

heart racing with adrenaline. “A map to the third

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

of mischief dancing in her eyes. “First, let’s figure out where it leads to,” she said,

determination, Sophia superimposed her hand-drawn map onto the cityscape of London, carefully aligning landmarks and

interjected, pointing to

her. ” If my grandfather hid the diary in the damn clock and I have

at Sophia’s exasperation, her amusement

her eye. “And then we’ll see if

through the bustling streets of London as they embarked on their quest to unravel the mystery hidden