Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 148

But Phoebe told her she didn't need to prove she was fearless.

Wren looked down at the condensation forming on the edge of the ice pack, her voice dropping. "It's not that I'm not afraid."

"Good," Phoebe said. "Being afraid is normal. The point is, we mitigate the risks."

She flipped open her laptop, her tone shifting back to her usual sharp, business-like rhythm. "First, you do not stay in any enclosed space alone with Lawrence on the night of the gala. Second, Maya and I are going with you as the Stellaris project team. Third, I highly recommend inviting Julian York. He's our clinical advisor and much better equipped to handle the medical elite than we are. Fourth, keep a separate backup of all Vivian Vance's files. Do not carry the originals on you."

Wren listened, nodding slowly.

Someone was taking the danger she faced and breaking it down into actionable, manageable steps.

It was an incredibly foreign feeling.

But it made her feel remarkably grounded.

She was about to respond when her phone buzzed again.

It was Lawrence.

Phoebe glanced at the screen. "Are you going to answer?"

Wren let it ring out.

Once it stopped, a text from Lawrence came through.

[I'm willing to chalk what happened earlier up to you being overly emotional. The gala proceeds as planned.]

Wren stared at the message and let out a dry laugh.

She didn't find it funny.

She found it utterly absurd.

Even now, he genuinely believed the problem was her being 'emotional.'

She typed her reply.

[From now on, any communication regarding the divorce, Leo, the gala, or the project will go through my lawyer, be in writing, or take place with a third party present. Do not ask to see me alone again.]

She hit send and placed the phone face down on the desk.

Meanwhile, in the executive reception room at Langford Medical, Lawrence watched the message pop up, his face darkening inch by inch.

Willow had already left.

The curtains had been pulled open, letting the neon city lights bleed into the room, casting it in a stark, cold glow. The gala itinerary still sat on the table, a crumpled page of the schedule discarded next to it.

Lawrence's tie was loosened, his collar slightly wrinkled.

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