Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 243

But she didn’t dare say that out loud.

“Then just keep working here. If you have any requests, let me know. You’ve taken good care of my wife these past five years. You deserve a raise,” Theodore said decisively.

“But… Mrs. Whitman…” Fallon hesitated, trailing off.

“She’s only away for a month. She’ll be back soon,” Theodore replied. He’d already checked—the touring company was just performing in Europe for a month.

Fallon fell silent, not daring to mention that Mrs. Whitman wasn’t just leaving for a month.

“Well, sir, should I bring your dinner up to your room, or would you prefer…?” Fallon decided to keep quiet for now. She’d stay another month, and when Mrs. Whitman finally divorced Mr. Whitman for good, she’d leave. She couldn’t risk saying the wrong thing and ruining things for her employer.

Theodore would never eat in bed. Even though he had no appetite, he wasn’t about to act like a child. “I’ll eat downstairs.”

“Yes, sir.” Fallon quickly turned and left.

Down in the dining room, Marcia had already set the table. As Theodore entered, he noticed there was someone new in the house.

Fallon hurried over and steered Marcia toward him. “Say hello to Mr. Whitman.”

“Hello, Mr. Whitman.” Marcia’s voice was stiff, and she looked nervous. She knew she was only able to attend her current school because Mr. Whitman had helped arrange it.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Whitman,” Fallon explained quickly. “I was planning to pack up and leave today, so I brought Marcia along to help with the packing…”

Theodore nodded and took a seat at the table. “School’s out for summer, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you don’t have anywhere to stay?”

Theodore just nodded. He barely touched his food; even swallowing was painful.

After putting down his fork, he still felt drained and went back to his room to lie down.

The illness had hit him like a freight train. He’d never been this sick before.

His phone was on the nightstand. He reached for it and saw a string of missed calls—from the office, clients, and from Cecilia.

His WhatsApp was blowing up with messages. As he scrolled through, he noticed Emma’s chat near the top. He opened it and saw he’d tried to call her countless times, including one call she’d actually answered—but he couldn’t remember what he’d said.

There was also an unsent draft, a single sentence he’d typed in a feverish haze, but never sent.

He stared at the words for a long moment, then deleted them, letter by letter.