Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 162

“Ouch!” Grandma winced, her face flushed with embarrassment. She wasn’t afraid of much, but the last thing she wanted was to make a scene in front of Theodore—she didn’t want to trouble Emma.

But Theodore was already on his feet. “It’s fine, Grandma. Here, let me help.” He grabbed a damp napkin from the sideboard and gently wiped her hands and the corner of her mouth until she was spotless. When it came to her clothes, though, Grandma insisted on handling it herself, dabbing at the spots with a tissue.

In no time, she was neat and tidy again.

She looked at Theodore with genuine apology. “I’m so sorry to put you through this, Theodore.”

He shook his head, a soft smile on his face, and a flicker of nostalgia in his eyes. “Don’t say that, Grandma. You know, I was raised by my own grandmother. If I could, I’d take care of her for a few more years…” For once, his words carried real emotion.

Not far away, at the corner of the hallway leading to the private dining rooms, Cecilia and Jared slipped past, catching a glimpse of the scene.

“Theo’s always had a soft heart,” Jared murmured. “Emma may not be the most attentive granddaughter, but he’s devoted to her grandma. I guess he’s making up for the loss of his own.”

Cecilia nodded. “Yeah, he’s always been like that. Back when I volunteered at the hospital and helped care for his grandmother, he treated her just as kindly. Now, he’s doing the same for Emma’s grandma.” But as she spoke, something dark flickered in her eyes.

Jared smiled. “You’re just as compassionate. Not many people would spend their free time volunteering at a hospital. You’re both good people.”

Cecilia didn’t answer—her mind was elsewhere, eyes clouded with complicated emotions.

Meanwhile, at their table, Theodore’s patience never wavered.

He cut Grandma’s steak into neat pieces; when the pasta arrived, he split half onto his own plate so she wouldn't have to finish it all; when dessert was served, he carefully separated the ice cream from the rest, making sure it was easier for her to enjoy.

Emma watched him flit around, leaving her—the actual granddaughter—with nothing to do. She’d wanted her grandma to try something new, but Theodore had taken over her job entirely.

Bored, she reached for the ice cream with her dessert spoon, but he blocked her hand.

“You really shouldn’t, you know…” His gaze flicked over her head, clearly remembering something Grandma didn’t know about. He didn’t finish the sentence.

Emma caught on right away. Whatever the reason, it was only a few more days before she’d be out of this mess—better safe than sorry. She switched her spoon to the cake instead.

Theodore polished off the ice cream by himself.

Emma shot him a mock glare. “I’m seriously starting to think you just wanted the ice cream for yourself and used us as an excuse!”

Half an hour later, the car rolled to a stop outside Grandma’s front gate.

Theodore got out and helped them both out of the car.

“Thank you for everything. Drive safe,” Emma said as she moved to close the gate.

Theodore placed a hand on the gate, blocking her, his expression unreadable. “Is that your way of kicking me out? Not even inviting me in?”

With Grandma still inside the yard, Emma didn’t want to argue. She kept her tone polite, though her face was cold. “Don’t you have things to do? I don’t want to keep you.”

She leaned in, dropping her voice to a low warning. “Hurry up and get it done, will you? The week’s almost up. Make sure you sell off the gifts and the apartment Cecilia received, and cash out.”

Theodore kept his hand firmly on the gate, stopping her from closing it. His gaze was intense, almost challenging. “Mrs. Whitman, don’t forget you have obligations, not just rights.”

Emma blinked, thrown. Obligations? What obligations?