Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 9

It was already 9:30 PM by the time Lawrence returned to the Langford Estate.

The lights in the living room were still on.

Leo was sitting cross-legged on the rug, clutching the rocket base. Willow sat right beside him, patiently showing him how to snap the pieces together.

Eleanor was lounging on the sofa. Spotting Lawrence walking in, she looked up and demanded, "Where's Wren?"

Lawrence paused halfway through taking off his coat.

"She hasn't come back?" he asked evenly.

Eleanor scowled. "You didn't know?"

It was an odd question.

In the past, whenever Wren stayed out late, Lawrence was always the first to know.

Even though he rarely bothered to actually read her texts, Wren always meticulously reported the time, location, and reason for her absence.

She was hardwired to check in.

More accurately, she had been trained to keep herself readily available for the Langford family's auditing at all times.

Lawrence handed his jacket to a maid, his tone dismissive. "She threw a bit of a tantrum last night."

Upon hearing this, Eleanor's face soured significantly.

"On Leo's birthday, of all days? Wren has become incredibly immature these past two years. Willow ran herself ragged trying to help out, and rather than being grateful, Wren decides to throw a fit? Who exactly is she trying to impress?"

Willow instantly dropped the plastic rocket parts and murmured softly, "Eleanor, please don't speak about Wren that way. She's probably just exhausted."

As she spoke, she glanced at Lawrence, her eyes carefully calculating.

"Lawrence, did Wren not contact you today either?"

Lawrence didn't answer.

No.

Since last night, Wren hadn't called once. Hadn't sent a single text.

He had even told Xavier to field her calls—a precaution that was quickly proving utterly unnecessary.

This realization caused a sudden flare of inexplicable irritation in Lawrence's chest.

It felt as if a phantom hand had suddenly yanked on a string he had never realized was there.

It wasn't a hard pull.

But it was impossible to ignore.

Leo finally looked up. "Dad, is Mom still mad?"

Lawrence stared down at his son.

Leo was hugging the rocket base. His small face held a flicker of anxiety, but mostly, it just showed sheer bewilderment.

"Willow said Mom was just tired, but then why didn't she come home?" he mumbled. "It was my birthday yesterday."

Willow gently stroked his hair. "Mom loves you very much, sweetie. She just needs some time to rest."

Leo pressed his lips together. "Does that mean she doesn't want me anymore?"

The living room plunged into a sudden silence.

Lawrence's brow furrowed sharply.

"No," he said flatly.

As the words left his mouth, he felt an unshakable, absolute certainty in their truth.

And Wren never demanded an answer.

She seemed perfectly accustomed to talking to a brick wall.

Lawrence stared at the screen for a few seconds, suddenly finding the texts violently abrasive.

He exited the app and gripped his phone tightly.

Eleanor was still prattling on. "Call her tomorrow and tell her to get back here. Married couples shouldn't hold overnight grudges. She's Leo's mother—she can't just abandon her child over something so ridiculous."

Lawrence didn't utter a word.

Willow lowered her eyes, lightly tracing the edge of a plastic rocket part.

Her voice was as soft as a sigh. "Wren used to dote on Leo the most."

Lawrence glanced at her.

Willow looked up. As if realizing she had misspoken, she quickly forced a smile. "I mean... Wren will definitely come back."

She sounded impossibly sweet.

But the agitation in Lawrence's chest only burned hotter.

He turned and headed upstairs.

The door to the master suite was shut.

When he pushed it open, the room was pitch black.

Lawrence hovered in the doorway, paralyzed by a momentary wave of disorientation.

In the past, no matter how late he got home, there was always a warm, amber lamp left glowing on the nightstand.