Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 162

He hated scenes like this.

He hated the boy's cautious gaze, and he hated that piece of paper with the word 'Disappointed' written on it.

Most of all, he hated that he was standing right here and had absolutely no idea what to say.

"It's too late now," he finally said. "We'll do it tomorrow."

Leo picked at the edge of the desk.

"Are you free tomorrow?"

Lawrence paused.

Tomorrow he had the pre-gala rehearsal, a Langford Medical project meeting, and he likely had to meet with people from the foundation in the evening.

He didn't answer immediately.

Leo looked up at him.

The tiny flicker of hope in the boy's eyes slowly dimmed.

A suffocating weight pressed against Lawrence's chest, and his tone hardened involuntarily. "I'll make time."

The boy nodded.

"Okay."

He didn't ask anything else.

That was somehow more uncomfortable than if he had thrown a tantrum.

Lawrence pulled out his phone and dialed Wren's number.

As soon as the call connected, his first words were, "You told him to write down that he was disappointed?"

There was a brief silence on Wren's end.

Then she asked, "Was he wrong?"

Lawrence's voice was icy. "Wren, he's only seven years old."

"A seven-year-old is allowed to feel disappointed."

"You absolutely had to make him record this?"

"You're the one who made it happen."

Lawrence gripped his phone and stepped out into the hallway.

The door was left ajar; Leo remained seated in the room, unmoving.

"I told him I would be late."

"You made him wait from seven o'clock until past ten."

"I was working."

"Then you could have just told him tonight wasn't going to happen."

Lawrence choked on his words.

Wren didn't even raise her voice.

She just sounded incredibly tired.

"Lawrence, stop making your child play guessing games for you."

With that, she hung up.

Lawrence stood in the corridor, staring at the darkened screen.

Eleanor's voice echoed from downstairs.

"Lawrence? Is Leo alright?"

He didn't respond.

After a moment, he pushed the door to the children's room open again.

Leo had already closed his assignment card and tucked it into his backpack.

I waited until nine forty-five.

My feelings: Disappointed.

He suddenly lost his appetite.

"You should head back first."

Willow's smile faded slightly.

"Alright."

She turned and walked downstairs.

While changing her shoes at the entryway, a maid was clearing away a catalog of gowns from the living room coffee table. Clipped to the front of the catalog was the seating chart for the gala.

Willow saw it.

The Head Table, row one.

Lawrence Langford.

Wren Whitaker.

She reached out and gently slid the seating chart back into the binder.

After the car door shut, she sat in the backseat, every trace of gentleness vanishing from her face.

On her phone, that anonymous account was still open to the drafts page.

The photo from the old archives hadn't been posted yet.

She stared at the image for a moment before abruptly locking her screen.

It was still early.

She would wait until Wren stood beside Lawrence in her evening gown, wait until everyone called her Mrs. Langford.

Dropping the photo then would be much more entertaining.