Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 565

After The Langford Recovery Symposium ended, the meeting minutes weren't immediately stamped for approval.

When The Secretariat brought the first draft, Wren sat on a bench at the end of the corridor, reviewing it page by page. The scent of stale tea lingered from the conference room. The experts had already departed, their footsteps swallowed by the heavy carpets.

Lawrence stood two steps away from her.

He watched her methodically check the text, her Stellaris document pouch resting neatly fastened by her side. For years, he had seen Wren organize pillboxes, wardrobes, and their son's backpack with the same meticulous care. Back then, he thought it was just her personality.

Only now did he realize she was using that exact same precision to reclaim her life, piece by piece.

"This sentence about Attachment Two being borrowed and unreturned needs to be included in the official record," Wren said, looking up at the staff from The Secretariat. "You can't just write 'irregularities exist in Langford Medical's old archives.'"

The staff member looked troubled and cast a glance at Lawrence.

Lawrence's Adam's apple bobbed.

"Write it exactly as she asked."

Wren didn't look at him.

She continued flipping the pages. "Professor Harper's questions regarding Stellaris's model sourcing and our provided responses must also be logged item by item. The old case evidence summary and the Stellaris current model review materials belong to two separate evidentiary systems. They cannot be jumbled together."

The staff member nodded, taking notes.

Lawrence curled his fingers into a tight fist at his side.

Every word she spoke was terrifyingly calm.

So calm that there wasn't a single crack where he could slip in a trace of personal emotion.

It wasn't until the third revision that Wren finally signed off on the minutes. She capped her pen and stood up, only for Lawrence to stop her.

"I'm going to look into Warren."

Wren paused.

The corridor lights cast a pale, washed-out glow against the side of her face.

"Whatever you find, pass it through the official evidentiary exchange process."

Lawrence looked at her.

He wanted to tell her that he would never hide anything from her again.

But the words felt terribly inadequate on his tongue.

Wren didn't want empty promises. She wanted documents, formal procedures, signatures, and traceable accountability.

She had long stopped believing in the verbal promises of anyone from the Langford family.

Without waiting for a response, Wren picked up her document pouch, turned, and walked away.

Lawrence stood there for a long time.

Finally, Leonard approached and murmured, "Mr. Langford, the archive room in The Old Langford Building has been opened. The miscellaneous administrative boxes from The Board Office have also been pulled."

Lawrence pulled his gaze away.

"Let's go."

The Old Langford Building was located in the Westside.

After the conglomerate moved into its new headquarters, only the archives, the old equipment rooms, and a few rarely used conference rooms were left here. At 10:00 PM, the security guard flipped the lights in the second basement level. The fluorescent bulbs flickered twice before illuminating row by row.

The air was thick with the scent of damp, decaying paper.

Wearing gloves, Leonard pushed three sealed boxes to the table.

"We've already reviewed the primary folders for Project Morning Star Phase II. What we pulled today are the administrative receipts from Silas Langford's office, the material flow logs from The Board Office, and the appendix index for the directives Silas made while bedridden."

Lawrence stood by the table, his eyes locking onto the top box.

The seal was ancient, the edges worn white.

The label read: Chairman Silas Langford's Office, Temporary Receipt Log, Morning Star Period.

He reached out and peeled off the seal, his movements agonizingly slow.

Inside were not bound project files, but stacks of logbooks. Their covers were a faded gray-blue, the edges fraying, the pages still carrying the heavy scent of old ink.

Leonard flipped to a page marked with a red slip and slid it over to Lawrence.

"Here's the first one."

Lawrence looked down.