Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 121

Chapter 121

Emma was too exhausted to struggle, held tightly in his arms. She looked up and saw storm clouds gathering in his dark eyes.

“What exactly is she doing?” This time, Theodore fired the question at the

nurse.

“She’s undergoing rehabilitation, sir.”

Theodore’s brow furrowed. “Rehabilitation? This is what you call rehabilitation? Look at her–how is this supposed to help her, not hurt

her?”

“Theodore!” Emma ground out between clenched teeth. “Stay out of this!”

“And if I don’t, who will?” he shot back, glaring down at her as he swept her up and strode out of the room.

“Theodore!” “Sir, Ms. Bennett’s recovery-” Emma and the nurse protested in unison, but Theodore cut them off sharply without breaking stride. “She’s done. That’s enough!”

“You don’t get to make decisions for me!” Emma’s voice shook with fury. In every moment she’d truly needed him, he’d never been there–so why did he have to interfere now?

He had already carried her out of the rehab room. In front of the entire Wellness Center–nurses, patients, waiting families–he cradled her and marched right through the crowd.

“Theodore!”

Emma hated how powerless she was in that moment, utterly unable to break free. The pain shot through her muscles every time she tried to move. She’d been battered and bruised plenty as a kid training in dance, but never had she hurt like this.

There was no way she could jump from his arms.

Dr. Fletcher stepped out of his office just then, taking in the scene with a

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gentle, concerned voice. “What’s going on? Was something wrong with the rehab session?”

Theodore, who’d always been calm and composed over the past decade, lately seemed to be unraveling–his temper frayed, his composure lost. Everyone knew his outbursts were usually reserved for matters involving Cecilia, but now, for some reason, even Dr. Fletcher was on the receiving end of his anger.

“Dr. Fletcher, look at her—she’s in agony! Are you sure your recovery program isn’t the problem?” His tone was harsh, more accusation than question.

Dr. Fletcher answered patiently, “The regimen is intense, yes. It’s difficult, eveǹ painful. But if she persists, she’ll recover. Mr. Whitman, the pain of rehabilitation is like resetting a broken bone–it’s excruciating, but necessary. As Ms. Bennett’s partner-”

“As her husband, I refuse to let her endure something this brutal!” Theodore cut him off, his expression stony as he carried Emma away.

Emma fumed, twisting her head to call out in Dr. Fletcher’s direction, “I’m sorry, Dr. Fletcher, I—

“You–nothing. Be quiet.” Theodore snapped, carrying her straight to the parking lot and depositing her unceremoniously into the car.

A nurse hurried after them, pressing Emma’s purse into her hands. “Ms. Bennett, you-”

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” Emma offered a faint smile. The pain really had been unbearable today, but quitting wasn’t an option.

Once she set her mind on something, giving up simply wasn’t in her

nature.

Just like years ago, when she’d fallen in love with dance, she’d thrown herself in without a second thought.

Just like when, at sixteen, she’d fallen for someone and rushed headlong after him, even if it meant crashing and burning in the end,

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And just like now–she had decided she would find her wings again. No matter how agonizing, whether it meant breaking and rebuilding herself, she refused to look back.

Theodore slammed the door shut, got behind the wheel, and stared at her. “There is no tomorrow. You’re not coming back here.”

“Theodore!” Emma shot daggers at him. “Who gave you the right to control my life?”

“I did.” He enunciated every word. “I’m your husband.”