Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 61

As Wren sat down, a brief silence fell over the conference room.

No one dared to speak first.

The faint mark on the side of Willow's neck wasn't overly obvious.

If Wren hadn't been so intimately familiar with Lawrence, or so acquainted with the subconscious way a woman would try to cover up such a thing, she might have tricked herself into believing it was just a bruise.

But she couldn't lie to herself.

Lawrence sat at the head of the table, his expression completely neutral.

Willow sat to his right. The corners of her eyes were slightly red, and her fingertips lightly pressed against the side of her neck—as if she was terrified someone would see it, yet equally terrified Wren wouldn't.

Wren suddenly found the entire situation absurd.

She had once waited in the living room late into the night, just for a single explanation from Lawrence about why he came home so late.

She had once made up countless excuses for him when he didn't reply to a single text.

He was busy.

He was tired.

He wasn't good at expressing himself.

He just had a cold personality.

But only now did she realize that being cold was never proof of an inability to love.

It wasn't that he couldn't comfort a woman, couldn't spoil someone, or couldn't leave intimately shameful marks in the dead of night.

He just never gave any of that to her.

"Ms. Whitaker?"

The head of Langford Medical's tech department called out cautiously.

Wren snapped back to reality.

She opened her file, her voice steady. "Let's begin. Stellaris has three main things to confirm today: the equipment interface standards, the rehabilitation data permissions, and the risk boundaries for the first batch of pilot cases."

As she spoke, she didn't look at Willow again.

She was so calm it seemed as if nothing had happened.

Julian sat beside her, his gaze lingering on her for a fraction of a second.

He had seen it.

And he had seen her hands under the table, her knuckles turning white.

The meeting continued.

Langford Medical's tech department presented the interface plan first. Wren listened intently, occasionally raising questions, each one so precise that the other party couldn't brush them off.

She didn't bring any personal emotions into her work.

But she didn't give Langford Medical an inch of unearned convenience, either.

The missing materials had to be submitted.

The risks had to be reassessed.

The restricted permissions stayed strictly restricted.

After listening for about ten minutes, Willow finally spoke up softly. "Ms. Whitaker, I have an idea."

Wren looked up.

Willow's chest tightened under her gaze.

She had used that title on purpose.

Ms. Whitaker.

Not Wren.

Not Mrs. Langford.

She wanted to remind Wren that this was a Langford Medical conference room, and everyone here was strictly bound by their project roles.

But being stared down by Wren still made her inexplicably nervous.

"Go ahead," Wren said, her tone flat.

Willow slid her prepared document forward.

"The rehabilitation charity project I'm in charge of could actually complement the Stellaris pilot. Stellaris's equipment focuses on postoperative data, while our side can handle at-home recovery guidance. If the two projects team up, it would be much better for the pediatric patients and their families."

She spoke so gently.

And so beautifully.

Every word was about charity, the patients, the families.

Several people on the Langford Medical side nodded in agreement.

Lawrence looked at Wren as well.

"It's a direction worth considering."

His tone was perfectly natural.

Yet he demanded she make her words sound pretty.

"If it's an official Langford Medical project, then I ask that Langford Medical go through the official channels," she replied without changing her tone. "Submit the qualification certificates, the budget sourcing, the project lead's resume, the data security agreements, and the risk assessment reports. Stellaris will review it according to our standards."

She paused, her gaze sweeping lightly over Willow.

"A project doesn't get a free pass just because of who is sitting next to Mr. Langford."

Willow's eyes instantly filled with tears.

"Wren..."

"Willow," Wren cut her off. "This is a conference room."

That single sentence hit harder than any accusation.

Willow's tears froze in her eyes.

Lawrence's expression turned absolutely frigid.

He stared at Wren.

Last night, Willow had cried in his arms, saying she just wanted to be chosen for once.

At that moment, she had been soft, fragile, and completely reliant on him.

But Wren, sitting across from him right now, was as cold and sharp as a blade.

She had clearly seen the mark on Willow's neck.

Yet she didn't cry or cause a scene.

She simply channeled all her emotions into drawing professional boundaries, slicing them down one by one.

Lawrence hated this feeling.

It made him feel like he was the one on trial.

But he didn't feel he deserved to be judged.

Things like this happened all the time in their circles.

He had no intention of getting a divorce.

He had no intention of letting Willow replace Wren.

He would even handle the apartment and the credit cards with clean dignity, ensuring nothing messy ever spilled into the public eye.

If Wren were just a little smarter, she would know what to tear open and what to swallow.