Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 184

To Emma’s astonishment, it was Theodore who walked in.

Of course, he didn’t come alone. His driver trailed behind him, along with several tall men in black suits—strangers to Emma, but unmistakably his entourage.

Emma’s parents were herded in the middle of the group, heads bowed, looking utterly defeated.

Theodore’s face was set in a grim expression today.

He had always been polite and generous in front of Emma’s family—agreeable, quick to help, the very picture of a courteous gentleman. When someone acts gentle for too long, people start to forget what it takes to claw your way to the top of the business world at such a young age. They assume kindness is all there is.

The last time at Grandma’s house, Theodore had revealed a glimpse of his true strength. But today, that was nothing—today felt like the curtain rising on the real show.

When Theodore got serious, there was something genuinely intimidating about him.

People are often less frightening when their emotions are on display—smiling, scowling, shouting. It’s the ones who can remain cold and unreadable, as if nothing in the world could ruffle them, who are the most terrifying. No one can predict what storms might be brewing under that calm surface.

So when Theodore strode into the office, face as unreadable as stone, the entire room seemed to freeze. The air felt thin, as if the oxygen itself had been locked away. Jonathan didn’t dare make a sound.

Theodore walked straight to Emma and took her hand.

Jonathan stood opposite him.

He dropped his gaze at once, unable to meet Theodore’s eyes.

The black-suited men stepped forward, and Julian and Gabriella—Emma’s parents—shuffled forward as well, slow and unwilling. At last, the four of them stood together, surrounded by the men in black and the driver.

Today, she’d come to bluff Jonathan.

She knew her brother—no real skills, no backbone, easily rattled. In Emma’s mind, there was an eighty percent chance she could scare him into a confession. It was just a psychological game.

She hadn’t expected Theodore to be playing the same game—but with real evidence.

Now there was no room for negotiation. Theodore’s demand was the same as hers: Emma’s father had to give up the family house.

Julian, bewildered, wailed, “Why? Son-in-law! Are you really after this little house? A man like you could shake the change from your pockets and buy ten of these!”

Theodore’s expression was crystal clear: there was no point in explaining. His message was simple—give up the house, or Jonathan goes to prison. The choice was theirs.