Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 227

Lawrence refused to see her tonight.

The Family Gala was canceled.

Wren had moved back in.

Every single piece of news was a direct assault, yanking her down from the pedestal she had clawed her way up to.

She didn't love Lawrence.

At least, not the kind of desperate, self-destructive love that left a person begging on their knees.

Lawrence was cold, arrogant, and overwhelmingly controlling. He carried the inherent entitlement of a man who had been catered to his entire life. Being around him was frequently exhausting.

But everything Lawrence represented was intoxicating.

The Langford dynasty.

Langford Medical.

The title of Mrs. Langford.

Whenever those same people who used to look down on her mistakenly addressed her as Mrs. Langford, their expressions would shift into something fragile and deferential.

In those fleeting moments, she felt like she had finally won.

Won against Wren.

Won against Vivian Vance, a woman dead for years yet still revered.

Won the legitimacy her own mother, Lydia Whitaker, had spent her entire life failing to secure.

So she could not back down now.

At nine o'clock that night, Willow went straight to Lawrence's private penthouse.

Not the main Langford Estate.

This was the apartment he used when he was working late in the city.

She had the access codes.

That alone gave her a profound sense of security.

Because even though Wren was living at the estate, she couldn't get in here.

The lights were off, save for a dim amber sconce in the entryway. Willow swapped her shoes and walked in to find Lawrence standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, on a call.

He was still wearing his dress shirt from the office, the cuffs unbuttoned, his tie tossed carelessly onto the sofa.

Hearing the door, he glanced over his shoulder. He didn't look surprised, nor did he tell her to leave.

The cold dread in Willow's chest began to thaw.

Him refusing to see her was one thing.

But now that she was here, he wouldn't throw her out.

Lawrence ended his call, his tone flat. "Who told you to come here?"

Willow didn't answer immediately.

She set her bag down, walked up behind him, and wrapped her arms gently around his waist.

"I wanted to see you."

Lawrence frowned.

"Leave her out of this."

Willow let out a bitter laugh.

No tears fell, but her smile was devoid of warmth.

"But isn't everything about her? She moves back, and you cancel the gala. She hates me, so you ban me from the school. She wants a divorce, yet you trap her in your house. Lawrence, what exactly do you want?"

Lawrence didn't answer.

Because he didn't have an answer.

He didn't want a divorce.

He didn't want Wren to leave the estate.

He didn't want his son to treat him like a stranger.

And he certainly didn't want Willow stirring up more chaos right now.

But laying all those desires out bare made him realize how ugly his own selfishness was.

Willow stepped closer, reaching up to adjust his collar.

"Do you think I'm too greedy?"

Her voice suddenly melted into something unbearably soft.

"I admit it. I want opportunities, I want people to respect me, I want to stand by your side. But Lawrence, I never forced you to give me anything. You were the one who made me believe I was allowed to get close to you."