Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 419

The Charity Gala was held at The InterContinental Grand Ballroom downtown.

By the time Wren arrived, dusk had just fallen. The hotel's glass facade mirrored the city lights, a plush red carpet led to the entrance, and the press corps' camera flashes fired off relentlessly, like endless matches striking in the dark.

Sitting in the car, Phoebe took one look at the media circus and scoffed.

"They call it a charity gala, but you'd think it was the Oscars."

Wren looked down, organizing her files.

Inside The Cobalt Folder were three items.

First, the officially corrected guest list from the organizers.

Second, the live statement drafted by Mr. Lawson.

Third, the drawing of the blue 'Opt-Out' Safety Mechanism from Leo.

The paper was folded perfectly flat, tucked securely at the very back.

Joey sat in the passenger seat, hugging his laptop bag, looking as terrified as a student walking into finals.

"Ms. Whitaker, I'll head to the temporary media zone backstage to monitor the streams and trending tags. If anyone starts steering the narrative, I'll screenshot it immediately."

Phoebe shot him a look. "Don't jump the gun. Document it first, then send it to me."

Joey nodded emphatically. "Got it."

The car glided to a halt.

Wren pushed the door open and stepped out.

The evening breeze carried a hint of a chill, catching the loose strands of hair framing her face. She wore a simple, elegant black gown, completely devoid of excessive embellishments. With its sharp shoulder lines and a hemline that fell just past her ankles, she stood in the flashing lights radiating a quiet, lethal composure—like a freshly sharpened blade resting in its sheath.

The moment the press spotted her, the shouting began.

"Ms. Whitaker, look over here!"

"Ms. Whitaker, are you attending tonight as Mrs. Langford?"

"Rumor has it you and Mr. Langford will jointly launch the charity initiative. Is that true?"

Walking beside her, Phoebe's expression had already turned murderous.

But Wren actually paused.

She looked directly at the reporter who asked the question, her voice carrying clearly over the din.

"Tonight, I am attending exclusively as the Stellaris Project Director."

The press pool went dead silent for a fraction of a second before the shutters began firing even faster.

"Does that mean your marriage with Mr. Langford is officially over?"

Phoebe stepped half a pace forward. "No personal questions tonight."

Wren didn't stop again.

As she walked through the hotel's revolving doors, she could still see the relentless strobes of the camera flashes chasing her silhouette through the glass.

It didn't matter.

From this moment on, every word she spoke had to be brutally clear.

The ballroom was already packed with attendees.

The main screens played a looping promotional video for pediatric rehabilitation, the editing aggressively heartwarming. Close-ups of smiling children, the dedicated backs of doctors, and family members weeping with gratitude filled the frame. Soft, swelling music bathed the room in a warm glow, as if trying to boil down all the world's complex tragedies into a comforting bowl of soup.

Wren stood near the entrance and watched it for a few seconds.

Then she looked away.

She was highly suspicious of this kind of manufactured 'warmth'.

The people who truly needed protection rarely wanted their pain magnified like this.

Clara Thorne had already arrived.

She stood by the signature wall, impeccably dressed in a navy-blue skirt suit, an itinerary in hand. Spotting Wren, she walked over.

"The title was fixed," Clara said. "But the Vivian Vance segment is still there."

Wren nodded. "I know."

Clara glanced at the folder in Wren's hands.

He rarely praised her for it.

Back then, he simply assumed that was what a wife was supposed to do.

Tonight, she was just as flawless.

Only her flawlessness was no longer serving him.

Trailing behind him, Gavin chuckled low. "Well, she showed up. See? No matter how tough she plays it, the second you dangle Vivian's name, she comes running."

Lawrence shot him a sideways glance, his eyes freezing over.

Gavin rubbed his nose. "Alright, shutting up."

Lawrence walked straight toward Wren.

Harrison saw him coming first, the warmth draining from his eyes.

Clara took a half-step back, seemingly giving them space to talk, but also clearly observing how the impending collision would play out.

Lawrence stopped directly in front of Wren.

"You're here."

Wren met his gaze. "I told you I would be."

"As Stellaris?"

"Yes."

Lawrence's eyes darkened.

He had anticipated that response, but hearing it out loud still felt like a punch to the gut.

Gavin let out a dry laugh. "Ms. Whitaker, making such harsh distinctions at a massive event like this is a bit crass, don't you think? When the public sees you and Lawrence in the same room, who's actually going to believe you're just here as a project director?"

Wren turned her steely gaze toward him.

"Mr. Shaw, I have no obligation to play into public misunderstandings."

The smirk vanished from Gavin's face.