Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 191

Emma ended the call.

Well, she’d just move in with Cecilia for a while—she had no objections.

She set her phone down and tried to drift back to sleep.

What she didn’t expect was, maybe half an hour later, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the apartment.

He’s actually home?

She hesitated, then got up to check. The main reason was the racket he was making in the hallway, knocking things over—she was a little worried. In his drunken state, would he mess up the paperwork her father needed for the legal waiver?

She stepped into the living room, and sure enough, found him standing in the entryway, eyes glazed.

“Emma, come here.”

He could still recognize her, apparently.

She walked over, blunt as ever. “Surprised you didn’t mistake me for someone else.”

He gave her a wounded look, as if she’d insulted him, and slung an arm around her shoulders. “My own wife—how could I not know you?”

As he spoke, the heavy scent of whiskey washed over her. Emma tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he only pulled her closer.

“Go on, keep pushing. If you knock me down, you’ll be a widow tonight,” he said, strangely giddy.

There was just no reasoning with a drunk.

Thankfully, once they made it from the hallway to the living room, he collapsed onto the couch by himself. Fishing through his bag, he pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to her. “Here you go.”

Emma took it, flipped it open, and checked inside—everything was in order.

He leaned back, giving a short laugh. “Still checking? Don’t trust me? Have I ever let you down with anything you’ve asked me to do?”

So, that was how he’d always seen her—uninteresting, even at the height of her high school crush on him.

They say drunken words are honest ones. She believed it now.

“So who’s interesting, then?” she asked with a cold laugh.

“Cici, obviously,” he answered without a second’s thought. “She’s amazing. She organized that whole charity drive and then pushed me into the spotlight to take the credit—meanwhile, she was working behind the scenes, running around to make it all happen. And you know, when she winked at me in the crowd—God, she was adorable.”

Adorable.

CEO Whitman, smitten enough to use words like that.

Emma kept her expression blank, quietly unlocking her tablet where it rested on the sofa, pressing record as he rambled on.

“Cici, she…” he murmured, his eyes half-closed, a silly grin on his lips. “She even helped the seniors at the retirement home wash their feet. I was shocked, but she just shrugged and said, ‘Oh, it’s nothing—when I volunteered at the hospital, I did the same thing.’”