Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 50

"Do you want me to go with you?"

Wren froze.

She hadn't expected him to offer.

Julian quickly clarified, "I'm not trying to play white knight. I just mean, if you need a getaway car, I can wait around the block."

A small, unexpected flutter of warmth hit Wren's chest.

She shook her head.

"No, it's fine. I can handle it."

"Alright," Julian said. "Just shoot me a text when you're done. Let me know you made it out alive."

It was such a simple request.

But it made Wren feel profoundly seen.

So this was what it was like when someone actually cared about you, without masking it as a power trip.

They just asked you to text them when you got home safe.

When she finally pulled up to Riverside Apartments, Wren spotted Harrison downstairs.

He was leaning against a black SUV, the drizzle dampening his trench coat, an unlit cigarette pinched between his fingers.

Seeing her step out of the car, he straightened up.

Wren was caught off guard.

"Harrison?"

Harrison glanced at the car she had just climbed out of. The tinted window was rolled up, hiding the driver.

He looked back at her, a self-deprecating smirk tugging at his lips.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Wren shook her head. "No."

Harrison pocketed the cigarette.

"I just came from seeing Lawrence."

Wren's expression didn't shift. "What's his problem now?"

"Same old," Harrison said. "He thinks you're just throwing a tantrum."

Wren wasn't the least bit surprised.

Harrison looked at her, his voice dropping into something far more serious. "Wren, do you remember that medical innovation pitch seven years ago?"

Wren blinked.

"I remember."

"You absolutely killed it that day." Harrison smiled faintly. "I was in the crowd."

Wren was stunned.

She only remembered Lawrence being there.

She had been so laser-focused on Lawrence that everyone else in the room had blurred into background static.

Reading her face, Harrison's expression softened, carrying a hint of resignation.

"I don't blame you for not remembering."

Wren didn't know what to say to that.

Standing in the rain, Harrison locked eyes with her, his tone dropping an octave.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew—I didn't just realize you were incredible."

It was a long time before she finally turned and walked into the lobby.

The elevator glided upward.

The mirrored doors reflected her slightly damp hair, but her eyes were remarkably calm.

Tomorrow night at the Whitaker house.

She knew exactly what was waiting for her.

Quentin's raging lectures.

Lydia's manipulative tears.

Willow's weaponized victimhood.

And that same recycled garbage she had been force-fed her whole life.

You're the older sister.

Just be reasonable.

You have so much already, why can't you just let your sister have this?

The elevator chimed.

Wren stepped out and pushed her key into the lock.

The second the lights clicked on in her apartment, a memory of her mother, Vivian, flashed in her mind.

Don't ever let someone else tell you who you're supposed to be, and then actually become that person.

Wren dropped her bag on the console and slowly slid off her damp trench coat.

This time, she wasn't giving up an inch.