Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 177

The rain was still pouring when Willow arrived at The Whitaker Estate.

One of the lights by the villa's entrance was blown out, and the stone pathway gleamed slick with rain. As she stepped out of the car, her silver-gray hem brushed against a puddle, the icy fabric clinging uncomfortably to her calf.

A maid rushed over with an umbrella.

"Miss Willow, Mrs. Whitaker is waiting for you inside."

Willow shot her an icy glare.

Miss Willow.

She had heard that title for years, and she still despised it.

The very first time she stepped foot in this house as a child, the staff called Wren 'Miss Whitaker' and her 'Miss Willow.' It was an undeniable establishment of hierarchy. Later, Lydia had thrown a massive fit, forcing the staff to call her 'the second Miss Whitaker,' but the 'second' was a permanent brand of her lesser status.

Swallowing her resentment, Willow walked through the front doors.

Only two lamps were lit in the expansive living room.

Lydia sat on the sofa, draped in a cashmere shawl. Her makeup was wiped clean, making her look far more haggard than usual. Her phone sat on the coffee table, the screen still glowing with Willow's text.

[She knows about The Cobalt Folder.]

Willow didn't sit down.

"Where's Dad?"

Lydia looked up. "In his study."

"Does he know?"

"What do you think?"

Lydia's voice was dangerously quiet, lacking her usual fiery temper.

That only made Willow more anxious.

She would have preferred Lydia screaming.

"Mom, what exactly is The Cobalt Folder?"

Lydia didn't answer.

Willow took a step closer. "It's something Vivian left behind, isn't it? It has files on Langford's Project Morning Star, and whatever the Whitakers were involved in?"

"It's too late."

Willow yanked off her damp shawl and tossed it onto the sofa.

"Scott Clarke brought up Vivian in front of everyone tonight. Lawrence is looking into it, and Wren is coming back here. You're telling me to keep my hands off? Then tell me, when she walks through those doors tomorrow, how are we supposed to stop her?"

Lydia's fingers curled into tight fists.

She maintained herself flawlessly, her nails filed to perfect ovals and painted a soft pink. But right now, her hands betrayed her age.

"Your father will handle it."

At that, a chilling glint flashed in Willow's eyes.

"He'll handle it? The same way he handled Vivian's study back then?"

Lydia's face contorted. "Willow."

Willow was practically hysterical now.

"She hadn't even been dead for a few days before you and I moved in. Her study was padlocked, and Wren was banned from going inside. I was thirteen. I might not have understood it then, but do you really think I don't get it now?"