Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 179

“So, you two go ahead and dance the night away!”

Before bed, Emma accepted two more orders on a secondhand app. With so many packages to ship out tomorrow, she drifted off to sleep without even realizing it.

Theodore didn’t come home that night.

When she woke up the next morning, her phone had a new message sent at two in the morning: a photo—Theodore, shirtless and fast asleep, with Cecilia draped over his shoulder in a slinky nightgown.

Emma immediately checked Cecilia’s Twitter. Sure enough, it had been updated again, featuring the same photo—except Theodore’s face was blurred. The caption read: “My favorite sight is you sleeping. I could watch you for a thousand years and never get bored, my darling boy.”

Of course, the luxury Hermès bag, the Hermès lamp on the nightstand, her Chanel perfume—none of that was blurred.

The comments section was full of jealousy and praise. Most people were asking, “Where do you even find a husband this rich, this handsome, and this in love?”

Cecilia responded to the comments with all the casual entitlement of a wife: “Haha, I just got lucky!” “We met in high school—it’s been over ten years.” “He just runs his own company, nothing special.” “He couldn’t afford to hire me if I worked, so I don’t.”

All those replies—showing off her relationship, her money—only fueled everyone’s envy.

Emma thought of a saying: Online, you are whoever you say you are.

Clearly, Cecilia was thriving in this fantasy identity.

Emma quietly recorded the post and all the comments, then got out of bed, started packing, and began processing her shipments for the day, one after another.

When Theodore finally came home, the courier was at the door, collecting packages.

He stopped in the doorway, eyes wide at the pile of boxes stacked almost as high as his waist. “All this—did you sell all these clothes?”

“Yep.” Emma kept her tone even, fingers still bandaged as she helped the courier stick shipping labels on each box.

Theodore’s gaze turned sharp, suspicious. “Emma, what are you up to?”

“Selling things I don’t need anymore,” she replied.

“I know you’re selling stuff, but… are you cleaning out the whole house? Did you sell everything?” He sounded unsettled.

“Jared and Hanley were there drinking, too,” he called out as he followed her.

“Uh-huh.”

“We all got drunk, so I didn’t come home.”

“Okay.”

She stepped into the walk-in closet to change, about to close the door behind her.

But Theodore stopped it with his hand. “What’s with the attitude?”

Emma let out a breath. “I don’t have an attitude.”

“You keep saying ‘mhm’ and ‘uh-huh’—what does that mean?” His dark eyes stared into hers.

“It means I heard you. And I’m just keeping my word—two simple words.”