Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 327

It was already evening by the time Willow saw the photo of Leo at Stellaris.

The photo was blurry.

It looked like someone had snapped it casually near the reception desk. The frame only showed a small figure from behind. Leo was wearing his backpack, standing beside Wren, with a Stellaris Visitor Pass slapped on the strap.

Daisy was in the shot as well.

The young woman was sitting in the lounge area, a bag of cookies resting next to her hand, her head bowed as she watched Leo write something.

Willow zoomed in on the photo.

Only a sliver of Leo's side profile was visible, but even in that sliver, it was obvious he was smiling.

It wasn't the cautious, walking-on-eggshells smile he always wore at the Langford family dinner table.

It was genuine, relaxed joy.

Willow stared at the image, her fingertip hovering over the screen for a long time.

She had gone through so much trouble at the school event to paste her "Mother's Sister" sticker on him, only to have Leo publicly rip it right off.

Daisy hadn't even done anything. She just sat there and listened to him talk, and that alone was enough to make him smile.

Some things really were terribly unfair.

Her assistant stood nearby and asked quietly, "Ms. Whitaker, do you want this photo dealt with?"

Willow looked up. "Dealt with how?"

"People in the private group chats are whispering that Wren is taking the kid to Stellaris now, mingling a lot with Dr. York's sister."

Willow set her phone facedown on the desk.

"Leave it for now."

The assistant didn't dare press further.

Willow leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting out the window.

Ever since Leo left the Langford Estate, news from Lawrence's end had dwindled. In the past, whenever he was frustrated, losing control, or needed to be soothed, he would always come looking for her. But lately, he was spending all his time on his son, his lawyers, Stellaris, the hospital, and documents she had no access to.

She knew perfectly well this was a terrible sign.

When a man was drowning in chaos, he would grab whatever hand was offered to him.

But once he started actually paying attention to his kid's homework, analyzing the psychological evaluation reports, and watching the way Wren operated in boardrooms, he would begin to rethink a lot of things.

Willow absolutely could not let this process go smoothly.

She picked up her phone and texted Lawrence.

"I heard Leo went to Stellaris today and looks to be in better spirits. That's a relief. As long as the child is happy, nothing else matters."

She hit send, but there was no reply.

She waited five minutes.

Then she sent another message.

"Regarding the family companionship project, I'd like to draft a new pediatric emotional support proposal. I didn't handle the school situation well last time, and I want to make up for it."

This time, Lawrence replied.

"Keep the project strictly professional. Stay away from Leo."

Willow stared at the text, the corner of her lips twitching slightly.

He replied.

As long as he was still willing to reply, there was still a crack in his armor.

She didn't bother offering further explanations. She just wrote back:

"I know. I won't put you in a difficult position again."

Half an hour later, Willow arrived at Lawrence's private apartment.

She wasn't wearing her usual pastel power suits from the project meetings, nor was her makeup heavy. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders, and she wore a deep blue knit dress that exuded a soft, almost vulnerable elegance.

Lawrence stared at her.

"Willow, I told you. Do not interfere with my son anymore."

"I remember." She placed the spoon near his hand, careful not to touch him. "That's why I'm only here to talk about the project tonight."

Lawrence didn't touch the soup.

Willow pulled a proposal folder from her bag.

"The family companionship project is being eclipsed by Stellaris right now. They preach boundaries; we preach companionship. They preach hitting pause; we preach being an anchor. It sounds warm and fuzzy, but we lack professional credibility. If this continues, the public will think Langford Medical is only good for emotional marketing gimmicks."

Lawrence's gaze shifted to the proposal.

Willow flipped open the first page.

"I want to spearhead the next phase. Not just generic family stories, but establishing three core support models: postoperative patients, caregivers, and minor children in the household."

Lawrence's eyes instantly darkened.

"I just told you to stay away from Leo."

"I wasn't talking about Leo." She looked up, a hint of grievance welling in her eyes. "Lawrence, Leo isn't the only child in the world. Many patients have children at home. Those kids get scared, they misunderstand things, and when the adults are sick, fighting, or exhausted, the kids have no idea where they stand."

She paused, her voice dropping even lower.

"I made a mistake at the school that day, which is exactly why I know this demographic can't be handled carelessly."

It was a brilliant maneuver.

Admit the mistake first, then leverage it as valuable experience.

Lawrence flipped through the first two pages of the proposal.

Willow watched his hands.

She knew he would read it.

Langford Medical desperately needed a project direction that could compete with Stellaris, and they needed someone to restore the professional gravitas of their 'family companionship system.'