Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 143

Chapter 143

A low, indistinct murmur rumbled in his throat, carrying with it an odd trace of intimacy.

Renee caught it on the other end and hurriedly said, “Is that Theodore with you? Okay, I won’t keep you guys! See you tomorrow night, bye!”

She ended the call in a flash, as if terrified of interrupting their “time” together.

“So, who are you meeting tomorrow?” Theodore had clearly heard Renee’s voice. He glanced at Emma’s phone, noticing the WhatsApp contact name: Renee. “Renee, huh?”

“Yeah.” Emma set her phone aside.

“So you’ve been in touch with Renee? You’re meeting up tomorrow night?” “Yeah.”

He nodded. “That’s good. You should spend more time with old friends instead of always staying home by yourself.”

Oh, sure. Like you used to say that! You certainly didn’t act that way in front of our classmates. Weren’t you always worried I’d embarrass you, your “crippled” wife? But now, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, not when you’ve got your shiny new ‘Dear Cici‘ by your side.

Theodore leaned in closer, smelling of her peach–scented body wash, though there was still a faint trace of alcohol clinging to him. “Mrs. Whitman, have you ever thought about becoming the real Mrs. Whitman?”

Emma was momentarily stunned by his words, but the meaning became obvious the moment his hand slid beneath her nightgown. She shoved his head off her shoulder, pushing him away. “Sober up, will you?”

He moved back, saying nothing more, making no further moves.

After a long while, just as Emma was drifting off to sleep, she was jolted

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Chapter 143

awake by someone shaking her. “Look at this. What’s that supposed to

mean?”

Groggy, she turned her head and saw Theodore holding his phone,

showing her a screenshot of her social post from earlier that night: “Five. years ago, I rescued a dog.”

But he accidentally tapped the screen, shrinking the screenshot and revealing his WhatsApp group chat.

She caught a surprising amount at a glance.

It was a group chat with Theodore, Jared, and a few others. The group name: *Life, Death, and Honor*.

The screenshot had been sent by Jared, tagging Theodore: Check out what your wife says about you.

Hanley had chimed in: You really spoil her too much!

And of course, Cecilia was there too, as insufferably sweet as ever: Theo, don’t be mad, okay? Did I upset Emma again?

Emma turned away and tried to go back to sleep.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep!” Theodore demanded, refusing to let it go. “Tell me what you meant by that post!”

“Exactly what it says,” she replied, eyes closed.

“Exactly what it says?” He pulled her to face him. “A dog? Does a dog put a roof over your head? Does a dog pay your bills? Does a dog take care of everything in your life?”

Emma’s eyes were bright, unwavering as she looked at him, close enough. to feel his breath. “I can pay my own bills. I can take care of myself, I can carry my own life. But if I really had saved a dog, at least the dog would only be loyal to me. He’d never betray me. So, Theodore, I’m deleting that post. It’s an insult to/dogs.”

Ever since Cecilia entered their lives, Emma had hardly spoken this much to him. When she finished, she could see something sinking deep in his

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Chapter 143

dark eyes.

“So what? Are you saying you regret it? You regret saving me?” He gripped her shoulders, his voice low and tight.

Emma let out a soft laugh. “Wasn’t that my great con? Tricking you into marrying me? Let’s just say my plan failed.”

Theodore watched her for a long, silent moment.

She gently pried his hands off and turned over. “It’s late. Go to sleep. And if Mr. Whitman regrets it too, feel free to bring up divorce with the lawyer tomorrow.”

Maybe it was all the physical therapy, or maybe she was just exhausted, but Emma slept like a rock.

The next morning, she didn’t wake up until ten.

Theodore was still home, tapping away on his phone.

“Breakfast’s ready. Don’t say I never cook for you,” he said, glancing up before returning to his screen.

Breakfast was Western–style: two slices of rustic bread–one topped with arugula, smoked salmon, and caviar, the other with pesto, scrambled eggs, and cheese.

No milk, just a glass of juice.

The caviar was rich, the salmon cooked just right, and the scrambled eggs were soft and creamy, just the way she liked. The pesto, with its fresh, grainy texture, definitely wasn’t store–bought. Fallon was hopeless in the kitchen, so he must’ve whipped it up himself this morning.

Not bad. Delicious and filling. She ate both slices,

Funny, though–he didn’t even like Western food. The only reason he’d bother making it this well was for someone else’s sake–Cecilia’s, probably.

But whatever.

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Chapter

When she finished, he stood. “Want me to have a lawyer look over the contract for you first?”

“No need.” Emma set down her glass. “But add a clause to section three: Not only can you never marry Cecilia, but if you break the agreement and marry her anyway–or even have a child with her, married or not–all your assets go to me.”

He listened, then nodded slightly, a faint, unreadable smile flickering in his eyes. “Mrs. Whitman, you really are something. Won’t let me have kids with you, won’t let anyone else give me a child either–isn’t that a little possessive?”

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