Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 176

Wren nodded.

At the far end of the hallway stood Willow.

There was no telling how long she had been lurking there.

She clutched her phone, her complexion pale.

Seeing Wren emerge, she forced a stiff smile.

"Wren, what did Mr. Clarke say to you?"

Wren looked at her.

Willow had her performance dialed in perfectly.

The worried expression, the slight victimhood, the delicate caution.

But the panic simmering in her eyes was too shallow; it completely betrayed her.

Wren suddenly thought of the anonymous photo.

If Scott hadn't intervened tonight, that picture would have been enough to let the entire gala tear her to shreds.

She didn't bother asking for a confession.

Accusations without evidence only gave someone like Willow the perfect excuse to cry, throwing gasoline on her damsel-in-distress act.

So she simply asked, "You're dying to know?"

Willow's grip tightened.

"I was just worried about you."

"Worried about what I might find out?"

Willow went a shade paler.

Before she could formulate a response, Eleanor strode up from behind.

"Wren, drop the passive-aggressive attitude," Eleanor snapped, frowning the second she saw her. "Haven't you caused enough of a scene tonight?"

Wren completely ignored her.

She kept her eyes locked on Willow, keeping her voice leveled.

"Tell Lydia I'm coming to The Whitaker Estate."

Willow's breath hitched.

It was a minuscule reaction.

But Wren caught it.

Eleanor was oblivious. "What business do you have going back there?"

Wren finally broke eye contact with Willow.

"To retrieve my mother's belongings."

"Make sure this doesn't gain any more traction online."

"Suppress the trending topics?"

"Yes."

Xavier nodded. "Understood."

Lawrence looked up, catching sight of Wren exiting through a side door.

Julian opened an umbrella for her.

Phoebe and Maya followed closely behind.

The group stepped out into the rain, quickly swallowed by the dark night.

Standing beneath the crystal chandeliers, Lawrence's expression was dangerously cold.

He had successfully killed the PR crisis tonight.

But for some reason, he still felt as though something vital had slipped through his fingers.

It wasn't just Wren.

It was the old names, the buried files, the erased history.

They were waking up, one by one.

For the first time, he realized that the name "Langford" might not be powerful enough to silence everything.