Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 87

When Lawrence arrived at Riverview Heights, Willow was already waiting at the door.

She was dressed in a soft, pale nightgown, her long hair draped over her shoulders. The corners of her eyes were tinged red, making it look as though she had either just finished crying or was valiantly holding back her tears.

The moment the door opened, she didn't interrogate him about why he was there.

She merely whispered, "Lawrence, come in."

Lawrence stood in the doorway, staring down at her.

Willow was undeniably smart.

She never asked if Wren had provoked him at times like these.

She never pried to see if he had gotten into another screaming match with his wife.

She simply offered him a sanctuary.

A place where he could feel needed, revered, and eagerly anticipated.

Lawrence stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind him.

The click of the lock was barely audible.

But Willow flinched violently at the sound, her entire body giving a subtle shudder.

Catching the movement, Lawrence's gaze darkened.

"What are you afraid of?"

Willow shook her head, her voice breathy. "I'm not."

She stepped closer and slipped the coat off his shoulders.

Her movements were as seamless and practiced as a devoted wife's.

Yet not quite.

Every gesture carried a hint of hesitant probing, as if she were constantly reminding him that she knew she didn't have the right, but she was still willing to pour all her devotion onto him anyway.

Lawrence desperately craved that feeling.

Especially after Wren had relentlessly stared him down, coldly telling him that she didn't care, that she was leaving, and that she was never coming back.

He needed someone to prove to him that he hadn't lost control over everything.

Willow hung his coat in the closet and turned back to face him.

"I brewed some detox tea. I know you didn't drink tonight, but you've been looking so exhausted lately."

Lawrence said nothing.

She always managed to notice the smallest, most intimate details.

Unlike Wren, who now only ever wanted to discuss divorce agreements, visitation schedules, and strict professional boundaries.

Outside the window, the river flowed dark and silent.

As the heavy curtains were drawn, only a single floor lamp cast a dim glow across the living room.

Willow whimpered his name against his chest.

Over and over again.

That name was supposed to be a stark reminder that he was crossing an unforgivable line.

But right now, it only fueled a darker, more illicit thrill.

Lawrence willingly plunged himself into the abyss.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

He knew it was a betrayal.

But he found himself reveling in the transgression.

Here, he didn't have to endure Wren's agonizingly cold stares.

He didn't have to face Leo's increasingly obvious detachment and endless questions.

All he had to do was watch Willow tremble beneath his touch, watch her cling to him, watch her entire mood shift on a single word from his lips.

It gave him the intoxicating illusion that he still held the entire world in the palm of his hand.