Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 381

Phoebe wrote 'Qifeng Trading' in the dead center of the whiteboard, drawing three lines branching off from it.

One line pointed to Quentin Whitaker.

Another line pointed to Unit 3.

The last line led to nowhere.

Chewing on the cap of her marker, she stared at the board for a long time before blurting out, "That company name is way too generic."

Wren sat across the conference table, a scanned copy of Vivian Vance's old photo resting near her hand.

She had already handed The Heritage Photo over to Mr. Lawson for safekeeping; she wasn't touching the original. She only looked at the digital copy.

Do not sign before Project Morning Star Phase II.

Every time she read those words, it felt like someone from the past was gently knocking on a locked door.

"The more generic it is, the more it looks like a shell company," Wren noted.

Phoebe nodded. "I pulled Qifeng's old corporate filings last night. The registered capital was incredibly low, and their business scope was completely disjointed—a chaotic mix of trade, consulting, logistics, and data services. It doesn't look like a company that should have been anywhere near a top-tier medical project."

She drew another box on the whiteboard.

"And yet, it shows up in the shredded fragments of Langford Medical's old files."

Wren looked up. "Qifeng... transfer..."

"Exactly." Phoebe bit down harder on the marker cap. "If the torn text read 'Qifeng data transfer' or 'Qifeng outsourcing transfer,' that means they weren't just a pass-through entity for payments. They were acting as a buffer layer between Langford Medical and whoever was actually handling the outsourced data."

Joey Jenkins sat nearby, clutching his laptop, feeling a chill crawl up his spine.

"Why would they need a buffer layer?"

Phoebe shot him a look. "To create plausible deniability."

Joey immediately clamped his mouth shut.

Wren stared at the whiteboard.

These threads were thin—too thin to hold up in court. But every single one pointed in the exact same direction.

Vivian Vance had opposed the outsourcing of pediatric rehabilitation data.

Langford Medical's archives were missing crucial pages.

Qifeng Trading, registered under Quentin Whitaker, appeared in the remaining fragments.

Unit 3 had housed Vivian's old desk and research files.

And then the unit was scrubbed clean.

Someone was constantly staying one step ahead of her.

"You can't even call that a coincidence anymore."

Phoebe tossed the marker onto the table.

"It's so perfectly aligned it looks like someone engineered it with a ruler."

Wren picked up her phone and texted Mr. Lawson.

Run a background check on Brightstone Consulting's old address and Quincy Lewis. We're heading to their registered office this afternoon.

Mr. Lawson replied: Received. Do not go alone.

Wren texted back: Phoebe and Joey are coming with me.

Phoebe caught a glimpse of the screen and looked up. "Why are we bringing Joey?"

Joey looked up too, his face screaming, Can I please opt out?

Wren set her phone down. "He's our tech guy. If we need to pull old building blueprints, bypass property management systems, or scrape historical tenant directories on-site, we'll need him."

Joey swallowed hard. "I'm a coder, not a private investigator."

Phoebe patted him hard on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. We're not detectives either. We're just three ordinary people slowly losing our minds over a ten-year-old corporate conspiracy."