Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 168

Scott completely ignored him. His eyes locked onto Wren, studying her familiar features.

"Are you Vivian's daughter?"

A hushed silence fell over the corridor.

Wren's fingers curled slightly.

"I am."

Scott stared at her for a long time, his gaze brimming with complex emotions.

"You look just like her."

Wren didn't respond.

Scott turned back to the secretariat. "If she's the Stellaris Representative, she enters as the Stellaris Representative. Organize the group photos by project affiliation."

The staff members were stunned. "But Mr. Langford requested—"

"I am not senile yet," Scott snapped, rapping his cane against the floor. "This is a foundation gala, not a celebration of some couple kissing and making up."

His tone wasn't loud.

But it was loud enough for every single person to hear.

Eleanor's face morphed from pale to a violently flushed crimson.

Willow kept her head down, her lips pressed into a tight, furious line.

Lawrence leveled a dark, stormy glare at Scott.

But Scott had already turned away. "Come on inside. We need to talk about Vivian later."

That last sentence was directed entirely at Wren.

Wren nodded. "Of course."

The entry order was completely overhauled at the last minute.

Lawrence walked the red carpet alone.

Eleanor clung to Willow's arm, trailing slightly behind him.

Wren and the Stellaris Medical team entered through the project guest lane.

The red carpet wasn't exceptionally long.

Yet every step felt grueling.

The cameras swarmed her. Someone shouted, "Ms. Whitaker, look over here!"

Someone else aggressively yelled, "Mrs. Langford!"

Wren stopped dead in her tracks, turning slowly toward the voice.

"My last name is Whitaker."

The entire entrance fell silent.

Followed instantly by a deafening frenzy of camera shutters.

From behind her, Phoebe muttered approvingly, "Flawless."

Wren didn't look back.

The lighting inside the banquet hall was warm and inviting.

The Head Table was positioned right at the front.

The original name cards hadn't been completely swapped out yet, and a placard reading "Wren Whitaker" was still sitting beside Lawrence's seat. A staff member was frantically trying to snatch it away, making a massive scene in the process.

Wren spared it a single glance before walking straight to the Stellaris Medical table and taking a seat.

Julian sat beside her, leaving one empty chair between them.

He nudged a glass of water closer to her hand.

"Did Mr. Clarke know your mother?"

"It seems that way."

"Are you alright?"

Wren took a sip of the water.

It was freezing cold.

"I'll survive."

Julian nodded, dropping the subject.

On the other side of the room, Lawrence sat at The Head Table, his expression dangerously dark.

The empty chair next to him had been hastily filled by a terrified hospital director who clearly wanted to be anywhere else.

The empty space was erased in a matter of seconds.

But Lawrence had still seen it happen.

It was terrifyingly easy for someone's place to be wiped away in the blink of an eye.

Sitting next to Eleanor, Willow gently smoothed out the older woman's shawl.

"Eleanor, don't let this ruin your evening."

Eleanor hissed under her breath, "Scott has completely lost his mind in his old age."

Willow didn't validate her anger.

She glanced down at her phone.

The anonymous account draft was still there.

The photo was ready to go.

Her finger hovered maliciously over the screen.

Wren's icy declaration—"My last name is Whitaker"—had drawn every single camera lens directly to her.

It had gone entirely too smoothly.

So smoothly that it made Willow's chest ache with jealousy.

She looked up and caught Lawrence staring at Wren.

It wasn't painfully obvious.

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