Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 386

Lydia dressed plainly today in a light gray cardigan. Her hair was pinned low, making her look entirely exhausted. It was a look designed to garner sympathy—and to make anyone standing opposite her seem aggressive.

Quentin's opening words bristled with anger.

"Are you satisfied now? You've dragged the Whitaker name through the mud."

Mr. Lawson placed a recording pen on the coffee table.

"Mr. Whitaker, this conversation will be recorded in its entirety. Please mind your phrasing."

Quentin shot him a dirty look, his expression darkening further.

"This is a family matter."

Wren took a seat. "When it involves Vivian Vance's belongings, the trading company, Brightstone Consulting, and Langford Medical's old projects, it stops being just a family matter."

Lydia's tears spilled over instantly.

"Wren, why do you have to do this? Your mother has been gone for so many years. Why must you dig up all these ugly things from her past?"

Wren looked up at her.

The afternoon light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching the bright tears at the corners of Lydia's eyes.

"What exactly is so ugly about my mother?"

Lydia looked cornered, her fingers clutching a tissue tightly.

Quentin interjected. "Your mother was in poor health back then, and she wasn't emotionally stable either. She had prejudices against the project, and prejudices against me. She threw tantrums without even understanding the facts."

Wren stared at him quietly.

She had heard this exact narrative when she was a child.

Vivian's health is bad.

Vivian is too sensitive.

Vivian doesn't trust her husband.

Vivian brings her work stress home.

Every sentence was like a thin layer of dust, settling over a decade, designed to bury a sharp, lucid woman who had firmly stood her ground, painting her instead as a hysterical mess.

As they were laid out one by one, the living room fell dead silent.

"Did sorting her belongings require renting a warehouse through the Trading company? Did it require hiding it for over ten years? Did it require emptying it out right before I found it?"

Quentin stared at the photos, his face ashen.

Lydia clutched her chest, the tears falling faster.

"Wren, are you trying to drive us to our graves? Has your father not treated you well all these years? Has he ever denied you anything you wanted? When you married Lawrence, this family backed you. We understand that your divorce isn't going smoothly and your project is being suppressed by Langford Medical. We know you're resentful. But you can't drag the Whitakers down with you just to beat Lawrence."

Mr. Lawson frowned. "Ms. Whitaker, please refrain from muddying the facts."

Lydia acted as if she hadn't heard him, her eyes fixed solely on Wren.

"Your mother fought so bitterly with your father back then, whatever she left behind might not even be true. When someone is consumed by hate, what wouldn't they write? Are you going to condemn the living based on a few torn pages and some old photos?"

Wren didn't answer right away.

She just looked at Lydia.