Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 363

The sky beyond the office windows was pitch black by the time Lawrence finally received the response from the archives department.

The old project files were packed into a gray document box and delivered personally by Mr. Murphy. It wasn't large, but it was sealed with three layers of security tape, its yellowed edges proof that it hadn't been touched in years.

Mr. Murphy stood stiffly before the desk, a sheen of sweat clinging to his temples.

"Mr. Langford, everything we could recover is in here."

Lawrence didn't open it immediately.

He stared at the project codes labeled on the box.

Project Morning Star Phase I.

Project Morning Star Phase II.

The Rehabilitation Data Outsourcing Pilot.

The Pediatric Neurorehabilitation Model.

The titles were stacked on top of one another like a chain of rusted padlocks. Behind every single lock, he could almost hear the haunting echo of Vivian Vance's name.

"Everything you could recover?" Lawrence looked up sharply. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Mr. Murphy swallowed hard.

"Certain documents are missing."

Lawrence's gaze darkened significantly.

"Which parts?"

Mr. Murphy placed a printed list on the desk.

"Parts three and four of the pre-evaluation report for Project Morning Star Phase II are gone. The meeting minutes for The Rehabilitation Data Outsourcing Pilot are missing two pages. Vivian Vance's expert opinion form is listed in the system directory, but the physical copy has been ripped out, and the digital scan is corrupted."

A suffocating silence engulfed the office.

Lawrence flipped open the manifest.

Every line on the paper was meticulously formatted, yet the column explaining the reason for the missing items was entirely blank.

Sometimes, empty space was infinitely more jarring than words.

"Who accessed these files?"

The sweat on Mr. Murphy's brow multiplied.

"The checkout logs are ancient, heavily reliant on physical records. We traced a mass withdrawal back over a decade ago. The borrower's signature is illegible, but it clearly shows authorization from the Board of Directors' Office."

Lawrence's fingertips froze.

The Board of Directors' Office.

Back then, his father was already severely ill. Many of the company's affairs were being co-managed by Grandmother Langford and professional executives. Eleanor Langford wasn't involved in operations, and Lawrence himself had yet to fully take the reins of the corporation.

But those five words—*Board of Directors' Office*—were more than enough to prove that this wasn't the work of some low-level employee.

"Bring me the original checkout log."

"We're already looking for it," Mr. Murphy stammered carefully. "But given how long it's been, it might..."

"I want the original."

Mr. Murphy immediately bowed his head. "Yes, sir."

Just as he turned to leave, Lawrence called out, stopping him in his tracks.

"Who knows about this today?"

"Only the three staff members involved in pulling the files. I've already had them sign NDAs."

Lawrence fixed a deadly, glacial stare on him.

"From this second forward, all access to historical archives goes through me exclusively. If anyone even attempts to query Project Morning Star, Vivian Vance, or the data outsourcing, you report it to me immediately."

"Understood."

After the manager scurried out, Lawrence sat completely alone in the massive office.

He broke the seals on the document box.

The papers inside carried the distinct odor of forgotten history—brittle, musty, and laced with decades of compressed dust. He sifted through them methodically.

Vivian's name first appeared on the expert panel roster for Phase I.

Her title was brutally simple: Data Security Consultant.

Further down were several meeting sign-in sheets. Her handwriting was slender yet incredibly forceful. She signed in the exact same spot every single time, her final strokes sharp and decisive.

Had he truly been blind to it all these years?

Perhaps not completely blind.

He simply used to enjoy her reliance on him, rendering him too lazy to dissect how much of it was genuine and how much was purely calculated.

A knock echoed against the office door.

His assistant stepped in and spoke softly, "Mr. Langford, a formal legal letter has arrived from Ms. Whitaker's side."

Lawrence looked up.

"Which Ms. Whitaker?"

The assistant froze for a second before scrambling to clarify.

"Ms. Wren Whitaker."

Lawrence leaned back in his leather chair.

"Read it."

The assistant pulled up a tablet. "Mr. Lawson, representing Ms. Wren Whitaker, demands that if Langford Medical Group is in possession of any project files related to Vivian Vance, they must be handed over in a formal written capacity. They will not accept back-channel handoffs, verbal summaries, or unauthenticated photocopies. Furthermore, they demand the preservation of all archives pertaining to Project Morning Star Phase II and the data outsourcing pilot to prevent spoliation of evidence."

Lawrence fell silent for several seconds.

Wren was moving even faster than he was.

He had barely uncovered the missing pages, and she was already dropping a preservation order on his desk.

She didn't trust him.

Or rather, she flat-out refused to leave something as critical as trust in his hands anymore.

"Reply to her," Lawrence ordered. "State that Langford Medical Group will fully cooperate in preserving the archives. Once verified, the documents will be provided through official legal channels."

The assistant nodded. "And regarding the identity designation, the gala organizers are still waiting for your approval."

Lawrence's expression iced over entirely.

"Ignore them for now."

Terrified, the assistant didn't dare press the issue.