Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 471

When Gavin Shaw invited Lawrence out, his tone was as casual as ever.

"Come out for a drink. Stop letting these regulators, lawyers, and parenting classes suffocate you. I'm exhausted just hearing about it."

Lawrence initially hadn't planned to go.

But his assistant had just dropped off a supplementary inquiry notice regarding Starbridge Media, and the names of Gavin's companies were prominently listed inside. After reading it, Lawrence told his driver to change their route.

They met at the same private club as last time.

The courtyard smelled of damp wood after the rain, illuminated by the dim amber glow of the eaves. Gavin was seated by the window. There was no alcohol in front of him, only a pot of tea. Seeing Lawrence walk in, he raised a hand with a grin.

"You're a hard man to book these days, Mr. Langford."

Lawrence sat down, completely bypassing the pleasantries.

"Starbridge Media. What's the story?"

Gavin didn't stop pouring the tea.

"Harrison certainly moves fast."

"I asked you what the story is."

The tea splashed softly into the cup.

Gavin pushed it across the table. "Starbridge has run a few campaigns for my companies. They're a PR firm—who hasn't used them? You don't honestly think I have the free time to personally hire troll farms to slander Wren Whitaker, do you?"

Lawrence just stared at him.

Gavin chuckled.

"Look at that glare. It's like you took a few classes thanks to Wren and now you think you're qualified to interrogate your friends."

Lawrence's expression was glacial.

"Leave her out of this."

"Why should I?" Gavin leaned back. "Aren't you just letting her lead you by the nose? She won't sign the divorce papers, she's forcing concessions on the project, and she's even making you jump through hoops just to FaceTime your kid. I heard you actually went to a fatherhood communication class?"

Lawrence remained silent.

Gavin smirked, clearly finding the whole thing incredibly amusing.

"You never used to be like this, Lawrence. Kids are kids—you discipline them when they act out. Since when does a father need to take a class to learn how to talk to his own son? Wren's playing a brilliant hand. She takes the kid, then forces you to play entirely by her rules. You have to treat seeing your own son like applying for prison visitation rights."

Lawrence traced the rim of his teacup with a finger.

In the past, hearing something like this might have irritated him, but part of him would have silently agreed.

When the men in their circle talked about marriage, this was the exact tone they used. Wives, children, the household, public image—they were all just assets that required managing. The man who kept his house in order was the man who saved face in public.

But today, when Gavin carelessly said "discipline them when they act out," all Lawrence could see was Leo's tear-filled eyes, pleading, *I don't want them to say those things.*

It wasn't about discipline. It was about the fact that he had never bothered to listen to what his own child was afraid of.

"Do you have kids?" Lawrence asked abruptly.

Gavin paused, then laughed.

"You asked me that last time, didn't you? Of course I do."

"How old?"

Gavin's smile faltered slightly.

"Why are you playing detective?"