Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 173

As the applause echoed, Wren stood in the backstage hallway.

Just beyond the door, the banquet hall was buzzing with life.

The lights, the music, the clinking of champagne glasses—it all blended into a chaotic symphony. Scott Clarke had just stood on stage and defended her, clarifying that she hadn't trespassed into the old archives, but rather that Vivian Vance's name genuinely existed in the foundation's historical records.

That single statement shielded her from half the scandal.

And pushed the other half into much deeper waters.

Vivian Vance.

It was the first time that name had been publicly acknowledged tonight.

Wren leaned near the doorway, her fingertips still ice-cold.

Phoebe handed her a phone. "The anonymous post isn't trending up anymore. The foundation's statement worked."

Maya scrolled through the analytics. "But the comments are getting unhinged. Some are asking who Vivian Vance was, others are digging into your ties with the Langfords, and the trolls are trying to spin a narrative that you're using a dead woman for clout."

"They're absolute trash," Phoebe scowled.

Wren didn't look at the screen.

Her gaze was fixed on the far end of the corridor.

Scott emerged from the banquet hall, supported by his staff. He was getting on in years, and though his speech had been brief, he looked noticeably drained.

"Ms. Whitaker," a staff member said quietly. "Mr. Clarke would like to see you."

The lounge was at the very end of the hall.

Before she could walk inside, Lawrence stepped out from a side corridor, blocking her path.

"Where are you going?"

Wren looked up. "Mr. Clarke asked to see me."

Lawrence glanced toward the lounge. "I'm coming with you."

"He asked for me. Not you."

"This involves Langford Medical."

Wren stared at him, a profound exhaustion washing over her.

Even now, all Lawrence cared about was how this affected Langford Medical.

He didn't care why she was secretly photographed, what had happened to Vivian, or why someone was trying to destroy her reputation during the gala.

Xavier hurried over, lowering his voice to a murmur. "Mr. Langford, the press is waiting for your statement regarding the anonymous thread."

Lawrence cast one last look at Wren before turning on his heel and walking away.

The door clicked shut.

The lounge settled into silence.

Scott sat on the sofa, resting his hand near a battered file envelope. It wasn't sealed, and the yellowed edges made it obvious it had been thumbed through countless times.

Wren took a seat but didn't reach for it.

Scott noticed her hesitation, a faint glimmer of surprise flashing in his eyes.

"Your mother used to do that when she was young," he said.

Wren looked up.

Scott offered a weary smile. "When someone handed her something, she wouldn't just take it. She'd ask what it was, where it came from, and if she had the clearance to touch it."

Wren ignored the nostalgic sentiment.

"What's inside?" she asked.