Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 246

She was a woman Marcia didn’t recognize.

The moment the woman stepped inside, her voice rang out in a sugary, exaggerated tone. “Theo, Theo…”

Cecilia hadn’t seen Theodore in days. She and Jared had invited him out twice, and both times he’d refused. So, she’d decided to drop by his house and catch him in person.

But as she walked in, Theodore was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she spotted a skinny, delicate little girl.

“And who are you?” Cecilia couldn’t recall anyone around Theodore she didn’t already know. Was this kid from Emma’s family, maybe?

“I’m Marcia. And you are…?” Truthfully, Marcia disliked her right away, but as a guest in someone else’s home, she couldn’t afford to be rude.

“Marcia? Who’s that? What’s your connection to Theodore?” Cecilia flopped onto the sofa, sprawling out as if she owned the place.

“I’m—the housekeeper’s daughter,” Marcia replied, still polite. “Are you here to see Mr. Whitman?”

“The housekeeper’s daughter?” Cecilia mulled it over. “Fallon’s girl?”

“Yes,” Marcia nodded.

Suddenly, Cecilia remembered. That Fallon had actually scolded her once! Just like Emma—both cut from the same cloth, both equally insufferable.

She sneered. “So, the help’s daughter is living in the master’s house now? Have you got no shame?”

Marcia’s face went pale, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It… it was Mr. Whitman who said I could stay here.”

“Mr. Whitman?” Cecilia rolled her eyes. “Go get me a glass of water.”

Marcia hesitated only a moment, then obediently went to the kitchen.

She propped her feet up on the coffee table.

Marcia stared at her in shock. She still had no idea who this woman was, or what she wanted, or why she seemed to despise her so much.

“Not moving?” Cecilia’s lips curled in a cold smile. “Think about it—how did I get in here without a key? Who do you suppose I am? How did I get through the door?”

Marcia knew the answer. Only people with the code or with their fingerprints registered could get inside. Her mom never gave her the code, never let her record her fingerprint.

Cecilia gave a satisfied little snort. “Figured it out now? Do you know who I am yet? Let me spell it out for you: with a single word, I can get you and your mother thrown out of this house in seconds.”

Marcia hovered by the sofa, terrified and miserable, her chest still throbbing from the burn.

“Well? Still not coming?” Suddenly, Cecilia stood up, grabbed a fistful of Marcia’s hair, and yanked her forward, shoving Marcia’s head down to her feet. “Letting you massage my feet is the best offer you’ll ever get, do you understand? Get to it! Otherwise, you and your mother will be out on the street—and forget about ever setting foot in that fancy private school again! Who do you think you are? Someone like you, in a place like that? You and your mother belong out in the fields, digging in the dirt.”