Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 141

Willow's expression almost slipped when she saw the invitation.

Eleanor Langford handed her the crimson and gold card, her tone laced with dissatisfaction. "Those old board members at the foundation are too old-school. They know perfectly well how things are between Lawrence and Wren, yet they still insist on writing 'Mrs. Langford'."

Willow lowered her eyes.

The gold-foiled words on the inner page were glaringly clear.

Cordially inviting Mr. Lawrence Langford and his wife, Mrs. Wren Whitaker.

Wife.

Wren Whitaker.

Seeing those two names together felt like a heavy stamp pressing down hard against Willow's chest.

She had been by Lawrence's side for so long.

Eleanor liked her, Leo used to rely on her, and everyone in their social circle assumed it was only a matter of time before she took Wren's place. Yet, when it came to a formal occasion that required a proper title and public respect, Wren was still the one standing next to Lawrence's name on the invitation.

As for her, Willow Whitaker? She had to settle for a separate guest pass as a project manager.

Seeing her looking down, Eleanor assumed she was upset and softened her tone. "Don't overthink it. That's just for the public. Once the divorce is finalized, the position of Mrs. Langford will inevitably be..."

She didn't finish her sentence.

Willow looked up and forced a polite smile. "Eleanor, I'm not overthinking it. Wren is still Lawrence's wife right now, so the foundation didn't do anything wrong."

The more understanding she acted, the more sympathy she garnered.

Eleanor sighed heavily. "You're just too accommodating."

Willow stayed silent.

She wasn't accommodating.

She just knew that if you wanted something, you couldn't show your greed until it was firmly in your grasp.

She gently placed the invitation back on the table. "I'll attend the gala as the head of the Langford Medical rehabilitation project. Don't worry, Eleanor, I won't make things difficult for Lawrence."

Eleanor patted her hand. "Good girl."

Willow smiled in agreement, but her heart was ice-cold.

Not make things difficult for him?

Of course not.

She was going to make things difficult for Wren.

At a high-profile event like the gala, if Wren stood by Lawrence's side, it would mean she was acknowledging her status as his wife. If she publicly distanced herself, it would humiliate both the foundation and Langford Medical. No matter what Wren chose, people would call her tactless.

But Willow still couldn't shake her unease.

Because Wren was different now.

She no longer relied on others for her dignity, which meant she was no longer afraid of losing it.

People like that were the most dangerous.

After leaving the Langford Estate, Willow got into her car and immediately called Lydia Whitaker.

When the call connected, she didn't beat around the bush. "Mom, what do you know about The Southside Medical Foundation?"

There was a noticeable pause on Lydia's end.

"Why are you asking about that?"

Willow watched the shadows of the trees retreating outside her window. "They invited Wren to the gala. The invitation explicitly addressed her as Lawrence's wife."

Lydia scoffed. "It's just an invitation."

At 7:40 PM, Wren arrived near The Southside Medical Archives.

She didn't get out of the car right away.

Phoebe Price sat in the passenger seat, looking down at the location sharing app on her phone. Maya Merritt's car was parked around the corner, keeping a safe distance. Julian York couldn't make it, but he had contacted a senior colleague at the city medical board and confirmed that someone had indeed requested files regarding the foundation's early history over the past few days.

"We can't track the person who requested them," Phoebe said. "They used a temporary internal clearance."

Wren looked out the window.

The old archives looked even more desolate in person than on the map. The gray paint on the walls was peeling, the iron gates were rusted, and the sparse branches of a few trees in the courtyard cast long, eerie shadows under the streetlights.

She suddenly thought of her mother's study.

When she was alive, Vivian Vance hated anyone touching her files. Her desk was always immaculate, notebooks organized by year. There was a light blue folder in a drawer that Wren had reached for once as a child, only for her mother to gently but firmly press her hand down.

"Wren, you can't play with the research files."

She hadn't understood back then.

Looking back, that light blue folder was probably one of the things Quentin Whitaker had rummaged through later.

At exactly eight o'clock, a text came in from the unknown number.

[Back door, third floor, old reading room.]

Phoebe glanced at it. "This screams trap."

Wren pocketed her phone. "Which is why we stick to the plan."

She wasn't going in alone.

Phoebe got out of the car with her, and they registered at the front entrance together. Maya stayed outside, keeping watch over the back door and the parking lot. Before stepping inside, Wren hit record on her phone and slipped it into her coat pocket.