Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 329

Wren was in the middle of frying eggs for Leo when Quentin Whitaker's call came in.

The kitchen was small, the oil sizzling softly in the pan. Leo sat at the dining table, using a marker to add little drawings to his daily schedule. He drew a teddy bear next to the "Call Time" slot, and a tiny doorbell next to "If I'm scared, I can say so."

Once he finished, he held it up for Wren to see.

"Mom, does this look okay?"

Just as Wren was about to answer, her phone started vibrating.

Quentin Whitaker.

When Leo saw the name on the screen, his marker paused mid-air.

"Is that Grandfather?"

Wren turned the stove down to a simmer. "Mhm."

She answered the call.

"Dad."

Quentin's voice filtered through, carrying a rare, amicable tone.

"Wren, how have you been? I heard you took Leo and moved out?"

Wren slid the eggs onto a plate.

"We're doing alright."

"You silly girl. Such a massive thing happened, and you didn't even say a word to your family." Quentin sighed heavily. "No matter what happens, the Whitaker family is still your home."

Home.

The word sounded completely alien to Wren.

Quentin always preached about moving forward.

He moved forward exceptionally fast.

So fast that before the traces of Vivian Vance had even gone cold, they were buried under brand-new curtains and fresh wardrobes.

Wren placed the plate in front of Leo, gently stroking his hair to signal him to eat.

"Is there something you need?"

Quentin's tone grew slightly heavier.

"Are you still digging around in your mother's old things?"

Wren pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Is there a problem with me looking into my mother's belongings?"

"Of course there's a problem," Quentin snapped, suppressing his temper. "Last time you brought a lawyer back to the house, turned the old study upside down, interrogated the staff, and demanded some blue folder. Do you have any idea how much chaos you caused? Wren, you aren't a child anymore. You need to know where to draw the line."

The blue folder.

Wren didn't latch onto those words. Instead, she asked softly, "If it was just an ordinary folder, why are you so nervous about it?"

The line went dead silent for a few seconds.

Quentin quickly retorted, "I'm nervous because you're being manipulated. The Langford divorce is still a mess, the Stellaris project is highly controversial, and now you want to drag your mother's old history into the spotlight? How is the public going to look at the Whitaker family? How are they going to look at you?"

Wren glanced over at Leo.

The boy was holding his cup of milk, taking small sips, but his eyes were fixed entirely on her.

She stood up and walked over to the balcony.

"How the public views things depends entirely on what actually happened back then."

Quentin's voice turned icy. "Are you seriously suspecting your own father now?"

"I just want to know where my mother's desk went."

The moment she said that, the other end of the line fell dead silent.

Wren gripped her phone, listening to the faint flick of a lighter in the background.

Whenever Quentin was stressed in the past, he loved to light a cigarette. When Vivian was still alive, she would always banish him to the balcony. After she was gone, no one bothered to police him, and the smell of smoke permanently settled into the Whitaker living room.

It took him a long time to finally speak. "It's just an old desk. Why are you so obsessed with it?"

"Mrs. Higgins said the last time she saw the blue folder, it was in the right-hand drawer of my mother's desk."

Quentin's voice turned lethal. "Are you really so determined to tear this family apart?"

"If the Whitaker family has nothing to hide, a single old desk won't tear anything apart."

Quentin's breathing grew heavier.

"Wren, you think you're untouchable now just because you have Stellaris, the Hans, and the Thornes backing you. But Vivian Vance has been dead for years. Digging up these old debts will only end up destroying you."

Wren lowered her eyes.

"Then that's my problem to deal with."

She hung up.

Outside the balcony, she could see a kid running downstairs with a heavy backpack while a parent shouted after them to hurry up. The city's morning was loud, chaotic, and utterly normal, entirely separated from the toxicity of the Whitaker estate by a single pane of glass.

Wren walked back to the dining table.

Leo pushed the remaining half of his roll toward her.

"Mom, you can have this."

Wren sat down. "Why are you giving this to me?"

"You sounded really sad when you were talking just now."

She picked up the piece of bread and took a tiny bite.

"Thank you."

Leo watched her carefully. "Did Grandfather yell at you?"

"He wants me to stop looking for your grandmother's things."

"Are you still going to look for them?"

"Yes."

The child nodded seriously, as if he had just grasped a profoundly important concept.

"Then I'll finish my homework early today, so I won't bother you."