Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 19

Chapter 19

“Did I wake you?” Theodore sat by the bed, the morning light framing him from

behind.

For a moment, Emma felt as though she was still dreaming.

Theodore stood up, voice teasing yet expectant. “Aren’t you going to get up and lay out my clothes?”

She rolled over with a groan. “Pick something yourself. I’m still tired.”

“It’s been two days, Mrs. Whitman. Two days without you choosing my outfit. You’re really neglecting your duties,” he called over her shoulder.

She started to sit up, only to realize he was already fully dressed, standing at the end of the bed–immaculate as ever.

“Theodore, you…” She struggled to find the words.

He simply tightened his tie, the corners of his mouth softening. “Alright, I’m not upset. I’ll try to come home early tonight, so you won’t have to wait.”

Maybe Theodore didn’t realize it, but she’d stopped waiting up for him a long time

ago.

“Say something, will you?” He pressed, impatient with her silence.

“Alright,” she replied quietly, her voice almost flat.

“That’s better.” He finally seemed satisfied and added, “We’re having guests over for dinner tonight. Try to look cheerful, okay? Don’t let anyone think Mrs. Whitman is upset with her husband.”

So that’s what this is about…

It was all because he didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of company. That’s why he was so desperate to smooth things over.

“Who’s coming for dinner?” Emma asked. In five years of marriage, they’d never hosted anyone at home.

“You’ll find out tonight.” He tried to sound mysterious. “It’ll be a surprise.”

She didn’t know what kind of surprise Theodore could possibly give her. Remembering how he’d missed dinner with her parents the night before, she wondered if maybe he’d invited them over to make up for it.

1/3

11:49

Chapter 19

She didn’t ask any more questions, only hoping Theodore would leave soon, and that the housekeeper would head out as well–she was expecting someone shortly to collect the watches.

At ten o’clock sharp, the housekeeper left.

By ten past ten, she got a message from the luxury goods buyer. Emma invited her upstairs.

Vivian was a stylish young woman, brisk and efficient, who introduced herself via WhatsApp.

She quickly inspected the watches and transferred the money without fuss.

“If you didn’t have all the receipts and proof of purchase for these, I wouldn’t have dared to buy them,” Vivian remarked, shaking her head in disbelief.

Emma understood. It wasn’t really about authenticity–just, who in their right mind owns ten of the exact same watch? Anyone in the secondhand business would have to wonder if they were stolen.

“Well, that’s all sorted. If you have any more to sell–bags, jewelry, whatever–just reach out,” Vivian said, hefting a large bag stuffed with watches.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Emma smiled as her phone chimed with the transfer notification. No matter what, having money in her own hands made her feel secure. All the gifts Theodore had given her–at least now, they served a purpose.

Once Vivian left, Emma deleted the bank notification from her phone.

She already had a sizeable sum in her account. For all his emotional distance, Theodore had always been generous with money. In five years, she’d hardly spent any of it, and now she had more than enough to support herself overseas.

Emma opened a fresh notebook, turned to the first page, and wrote: “Thirty–Day Countdown to Leaving Theodore. Step One: Letting Go–Selling Gifts.”

Then she began preparing the documents she’d need for her visa.

Since she’d be traveling with a performance group, she printed out the relevant materials and, together with her passport, arranged for a courier to deliver them to Ms. Brown.

Another day flew by.

That evening, Emma scrolled through a few posts before bed, only for the algorithm to push Cecilia’s latest update to the top of her feed.

2/3

11:49

Chapter 19

She clicked on it. The photo showed Cecilia sitting inside a shopping cart at the supermarket.

Whoever was pushing the cart wasn’t in the frame–just a pair of hands and the sleeves of a coat.

But that was enough.

Those were Theodore’s hands.

She’d chosen all his clothes herself, and she recognized those cufflinks instantly. She’d hated the original ones and had a custom pair made for him–one of a kind.

Chapter 20