Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 417

The day before The Charity Gala, the organizers finally sent out the official itinerary.

The email CC'd Langford Medical, Xander Medical Fund, Thorne Corp, the Stellaris project team, and several partnering agencies. The subject line was beautifully crafted.

Final Itinerary and Guest List for The Pediatric Rehabilitation Charity Gala.

The moment Phoebe saw the word "Final," a bad feeling settled in her gut.

She clicked open the attachment, her face dropping by the third page.

"Wren."

Wren, who was cross-checking Stellaris's compliance files with Joey, looked up.

Phoebe turned the laptop around.

On the guest list, her name was placed directly under Lawrence's.

Lawrence Langford, Chairman of Langford Medical Group.

Wren Whitaker, Wife of the Chairman of Langford Medical Group, Stellaris Project Director.

Further down, a brand-new segment had been added.

The Langford Medical Pediatric Data Ethics Initiative Launch.

In memory of Ms. Vivian Vance's early contributions to pediatric rehabilitation data standardization.

Proposed Launch Guests: Lawrence Langford, Wren Whitaker.

After reading it, Joey couldn't help but curse under his breath.

"Do they not know how to read a cease-and-desist letter?"

Phoebe scoffed. "Oh, they can read. They're just betting she won't dare make a scene before the gala."

Wren remained silent.

She downloaded the attachment, saved it, and forwarded it to Robert Lawson.

Her movements were incredibly swift.

So composed that it only fueled Phoebe's frustration.

"Wren, this isn't just a mistaken title. They used Vivian's name."

"I know."

"That's it? Just 'I know'?"

Wren looked up at her.

"I'm trying to figure out how to handle it on-site."

Phoebe paused.

Wren scrolled the itinerary down to the initiative segment.

"If we demand a change now, they'll just pass the buck. Langford Medical, the hosts, the organizers—they'll keep deflecting until we walk through the doors tomorrow. By then, the press releases will be drafted, and the backdrop will already be printed."

Phoebe's face paled. "They're going to force you onto the stage."

"Exactly."

Joey panicked. "Should we just not go?"

Wren stared at the three words on the screen: Vivian Vance.

"If I don't go, it gives them a free pass to spin a one-sided narrative about my mother."

The conference room fell dead silent.

She had to attend.

If Langford Medical successfully painted Vivian as some honored 'industry pioneer', and then Lawrence stood on stage as her husband spouting elegant speeches, what would the public see?

They would see Langford Medical bravely confronting the past.

They would see Lawrence and Wren putting up a united front.

They would see a bitter divorce rebranded as a minor marital spat.

They would even see Vivian's fierce opposition casually rewritten as a 'contribution'.

That was infinitely more sickening than erasing her entirely.

Wren picked up a pen and jotted down a few words on a notepad.

Identity correction.

Name authorization.

Live statement.

Evidence preservation.

The organizer groaned inwardly.

Gavin Shaw.

Langford Medical refused to confirm or deny the changes, leaving them completely in the dark.

Hanging up, he dialed Gavin.

Gavin answered quickly, his tone lazily amused.

"It's just a title. Why is everyone hyperventilating?"

The organizer swallowed his frustration. "Mr. Shaw, this involves an active divorce and the unauthorized use of a deceased person's name."

"Wren is going to show up tomorrow," Gavin drawled. "As long as she's in the room, the host can smooth over whatever title they use on stage. Stop scaring yourselves."

"What if she makes a public scene?"

Gavin chuckled.

"Even better. The media loves a good trainwreck. Your charity gala gets maximum exposure—what's the problem?"

The organizer almost swore out loud.

He finally realized these people didn't care about the collateral damage.

They actively wanted the chaos.

By early evening, Lawrence finally finished his meetings and reviewed his assistant's risk report.

When he flipped to the final page, his brows snapped together.

"Who authorized this final itinerary?"

His assistant bowed his head. "The organizers claimed it was compiled based on our preliminary drafts and Mr. Shaw's recommendations."

Lawrence shot him a dark look. "Did Gavin sign off on it?"

"No formal signature, sir."

"Then why the hell was it distributed?"

The assistant didn't dare answer.

Lawrence slammed the folder onto his desk.