Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 177

To keep up appearances, he’d personally picked out her holiday outfit—a coat so outrageously expensive it was almost absurd.

Emma never imagined she’d be able to sell it on a secondhand app, even after listing it for a laughably low price.

Then someone made an offer: $50.

Emma: Deal!

Buyer: ??? Is it really that cheap? Are you sure it’s not a fake?

Emma: I swear it’s real—comes with the receipt and all the original tags!

Buyer: I remember this style had a men’s version too, right? Like a matching set? Do you have that?

Emma: Of course I do!

Back then, Theodore had bought both the men’s and women’s versions.

Buyer: Both for $75? I’ll take them!

Emma: Sure.

She didn’t hesitate for a second.

Her quick reply made the buyer send another string of question marks: Girl, you’re making me suspicious! Are they actually real? Why are you so eager to sell?

Emma: They’re real. As for why I’m so quick… well, to me, they’re just junk. Isn’t it satisfying to get rid of junk?

Worried she’d be misunderstood, Emma quickly added: I mean “junk” as in unused stuff that’s just cluttering up my closet—not that there’s anything wrong with the clothes themselves.

Buyer: Can you send me a video of them?

Emma: Sure, give me a sec.

Her own coat was easy to find—she’d just put it away. After filming a quick video and sending it, she started looking for Theodore’s.

That took a bit more effort, but she finally dug it up.

Just as she was recording, a cold, sharp voice sounded behind her. “What are you doing in my closet?”

Emma jumped, nearly dropping her phone.

She turned to see Theodore, hair dripping wet, standing behind her in a bathrobe.

“What are you doing with my clothes?” Water dripped from his hair, making his dark eyes look even sharper and more distant.

“Oh, someone wants to buy both these coats. I’m just filming them to show her,” Emma replied, trying to sound calm.

“Both?” Theodore’s voice rose. “Mrs. Whitman, sell your own clothes if you want, but who said you could sell mine?”

“So you blocked all of us—including Theo—because you couldn’t handle the truth?”

“If you can’t handle it, why don’t you just divorce Theo? Stop clinging to him like some pathetic leech.”

“You’re a cripple. Besides making Theo’s life harder and embarrassing him, what can you even offer? Can you sleep with him? Give him a child? You can’t even do the basics—so what’s the point?”

Emma stared at the endless stream of messages. Her heart, numb and frozen for so long, suddenly twisted at the words, “Can you even sleep with him?”

But it wasn’t because Theo hadn’t touched her in five years. That wound had already healed; now, she was only grateful. After all, if they’d had a child together, cutting ties would be so much harder.

What hurt was knowing that he’d discussed something so private—something meant only for a married couple—with Cecilia.

But even that pain faded quickly. She’d half-expected it. Hadn’t he told Jared, too, that he wasn’t interested in her?

Still, say what you want behind my back—why throw it in my face?

The texts kept coming.

“Oh, guess where we are right now? In the new place Theo bought for me! And you know what else? The priciest bags, the fanciest watches—guess who bought them? This time, don’t even think about getting them back!”

Photos followed.

There was the new apartment. The new designer bag. A group of them toasting with drinks in the living room. On a giant cake, in bright frosting: Congratulations on your new home, Cici!