Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 77

After dumping the screenshot into her evidence folder, Wren didn't give it a second thought.

She finished her morning routine, got dressed, and headed out the door.

The wind was howling outside Riverside Apartments, whipping the hem of her trench coat. As she waited on the curb for her ride, her phone lit up again.

It was Mr. Clarke.

[Ms. Whitaker, I reviewed the new files you uploaded last night. The evidence isn't enough to legally prove open cohabitation just yet, but keep compiling it. It's solid ammunition for our legal strategy.]

Wren fired back a quick: [Understood.]

Mr. Clarke sent another text:

[I'll have the first draft of the divorce papers sent over to you tonight.]

Staring at the message, Wren felt none of the soul-crushing weight she had expected.

Instead, an incredible sense of clarity washed over her.

The faster Lawrence and Willow spiraled into their blatant affair, the easier they were making her exit strategy.

She pocketed her phone and looked out at the morning skyline.

She used to think divorce was a terrifying leap off a cliff.

Now, she realized she wasn't falling at all—she was finally breaking out of a cold, suffocating prison.

Later that morning, at Stellaris Medical.

The second Wren stepped into the lab, Zeke Zeller came barreling toward her with his laptop.

"Wren, I reran last night's data pool. The dynamic compensation metrics are rock solid! But the home-alert system threw out two false flags."

Wren grabbed the laptop, her eyes darting across the wave readouts.

"They aren't false flags," she said, tapping the screen. "Right here—the patient tossed and turned, causing a sensor shift. The algorithm read the posture change as a heart rate anomaly. Have the hardware boys patch in a posture-correction parameter."

Zeke stared at the screen for two seconds before nodding frantically. "On it."

Wren tossed her coat onto a chair and slipped into her lab coat.

When Julian York walked in, he found her huddled around a monitor, rapid-firing parameter tweaks to the engineering team.

She was completely in the zone.

She still looked a little pale, but her gaze was sharp and unyielding.

He didn't interrupt. He simply walked over and placed a cup of hot coffee next to her keyboard.

Wren glanced back, a faint smile touching her lips. "Thanks."

Julian raised an eyebrow. "Did you eat breakfast?"

"Yeah."

"How many bites?"

Wren paused, busted.

Julian looked down at her, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Wren sighed, throwing in the towel. "Half a sandwich."

"I'm supervising your lunch today."

He said it so casually, but it made Wren feel strangely off-balance.

Not in a bad way.

It was just that no one had genuinely cared if she was taking care of herself in a very long time.

She flipped through her documents, her voice soft. "Dr. York, do you micromanage your patients this intensely?"

"Depends on how stubborn the patient is," Julian replied smoothly.

Wren couldn't help but laugh.

Standing on the other side of the glass wall, Maya Merritt took in the scene.

"The risk assessment is a joke, the project lead is criminally underqualified, the budget looks like a fairy tale, and there is zero concrete execution plan."

Arthur scowled. "You know exactly who's backing that project."

"I know," Harrison smirked. "It's Lawrence bankrolling a vanity project to make Willow look like a saint."

Arthur's face darkened. "Watch your mouth."

Harrison dropped the smile.

"Dad, this fund is supposed to invest in viable medical tech, not Lawrence's messy love life."

Arthur stared him down, a calculating gleam in his eye.

"You've been burning bridges with Lawrence lately. And it's all because of Wren."

Harrison didn't deny it.

"He's the one acting like a piece of trash."

"It's his marriage," Arthur barked, his voice turning lethal. "Harrison, grow the hell up. We're launching a joint medical fund with Thorne Medical Systems. That alliance is a hundred times more important than you playing white knight."

Harrison raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Arthur slid a pristine file across the desk.

"Clara Thorne. Just flew back from the States. Set up a date with her next week."

Harrison glanced at the glossy photo.

The woman was dressed in a sharp black blazer, her expression fierce and cold. Her resume was far too impressive for someone being shoved into an arranged marriage.

Clara Thorne, sole heiress to Thorne Medical Systems, VP of Global Acquisitions.

Harrison let out a dry laugh.

"A political marriage?"

Arthur's voice was devoid of emotion. "It's a strategic merger. Clara needs a husband to appease the Thorne board, and you need a powerhouse partner to elevate the Xander Fund. It's a perfect match."