Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 95

By the time Lawrence returned to The Langford Estate, the sky was pitch black.

The usual warm light in the living room was gone.

No one bothered to turn it on anymore.

He stood in the entryway, still clutching the rejected divorce agreement, its edges slightly crumpled from his grip.

Hearing the noise, a maid hurried out.

"Welcome back, sir."

Lawrence shrugged off his coat, his gaze sweeping the living room.

Eleanor was sitting on the sofa, looking deeply displeased. Leo was slumped over the coffee table doing homework, his pencil scratching messily against the paper.

Dinner was sitting on the dining table.

The soup was cold.

The dishes were barely touched.

Lawrence frowned. "Why isn't anyone eating?"

Eleanor looked up at him, looking like she had been holding it in for hours.

"You're asking me? Leo's teacher called today, saying The Junior Astronaut Logbook is due tomorrow. Who in this house knows what that is?"

Leo kept his head down as the tip of his pencil snapped with a sharp click.

Lawrence looked at his son. "What logbook?"

Leo mumbled, "Mom knows."

Those two words again.

Mom knows.

Lately, those words had felt like a hidden needle in his collar, pricking him randomly. Not agonizing, just intensely irritating.

Lawrence tossed the agreement onto the table.

"When did the teacher announce this?"

Eleanor scowled. "Probably in the group chat. Wren used to manage all this. With her gone, who knows what the teacher sends out every day?"

A maid standing nearby spoke up timidly, "The missus used to organize all school notices into a memo and remind the kitchen, the driver, and the teachers a day in advance."

Lawrence shot her a look.

The maid immediately dropped her head, too scared to say another word.

But Eleanor had finally found an outlet for her frustration.

"You see? Now that she's throwing a fit about a divorce, she doesn't even care about her own child. When Leo fails to turn in his homework tomorrow, what will the teachers think of our family?"

Lawrence didn't respond.

He picked up the few sheets of paper in front of Leo.

There was a wobbly drawing of a rocket on the paper, with a large blank space beside it demanding a parent's observation log.

Parent's Observation Log.

Lawrence stared at the words, his brow slowly furrowing.

He didn't know how to write this.

More accurately, he didn't know what Leo had even observed lately.

Leo liked space stations, rockets, and lunar rovers.

He had only learned these things in the last few days.

In the past, all these trivial details belonged to Wren.

Like some invisible operating system running the house.

Quiet, out of sight, never asking for credit, yet everyone just assumed it would keep running.

Now that the system was unplugged, every single crack was exposed.

Lawrence set the paper back down, his tone heavy. "I'll ask the teacher to send me the requirements."

Leo asked softly, "Did Mom leave the group chat?"

Lawrence paused.

Eleanor immediately snapped, "She wouldn't dare! She's your mother, if she doesn't handle this, who will?"

Leo stayed quiet.

The little boy poked at the paper with his broken pencil, tearing a tiny hole in the page.

Lawrence noticed it.

He suddenly remembered how Wren used to sit with Leo during homework.

She wouldn't yell.

She would just sit beside him, take away the broken pencil, sharpen it, and gently correct his grip.

Back then, when he occasionally passed by the study, he only thought the mother and son were dawdling.

Now that it was his turn to sit here, he realized a single logbook was enough to render him completely helpless.

His phone buzzed.

A message from Willow.

"Then go track it down. Tear the place apart if you have to."

After hanging up, Eleanor looked at him. "You're having your assistant do it? Lawrence, Wren knows these household matters best. Just call her and tell her to come back for a bit."

Lawrence let out a cold scoff.

"She's currently busy suing for divorce."

Eleanor froze.

It was as if someone had abruptly choked the life out of the room.

Leo looked up, his eyes instantly turning red.

"Dad, what does suing for divorce mean?"

Lawrence finally remembered his son was still in the room.

He fell silent for a second.

Eleanor reacted first. "Leo, go upstairs."

Leo didn't move.

"Is Mom abandoning us?"

That single sentence pierced deeper than any of the trivial household complaints.

Lawrence looked at his son.

He wanted to say no.

But the words died on his tongue because he realized he didn't know how to explain it.

Wren really was divorcing him.

She really wasn't coming back to this house.

And yet, she was fighting to see her son, fighting to tell him that she wasn't abandoning him.

For the first time, Lawrence realized that some things couldn't just be brushed off to a child with a dismissive "she's throwing a tantrum."

Yet he still refused to admit he was wrong.

So he simply said, "This is adult business."

Leo lowered his head.

"Why does your adult business always make me sad?"

No one answered.

Lawrence felt a sudden tightness in his chest.