Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 251

“Little girl? Immature?” Ellis let out a scornful laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you discriminating based on a woman’s age now?” Cecilia, for once catching Ellis in a mistake, raised her voice triumphantly.

Ellis’s smile turned mocking. “For a good designer, age is an asset. The beauty that comes with time is no less striking than youthful charm. I can make a ninety-year-old look elegant.”

He laughed again, eyes glinting. “Mr. Whitman, why don’t you take your little girl and go home? I can be quite blunt, and you’ll want to leave before I get truly unpleasant.”

He stressed those last words—“little girl”—making his contempt obvious.

Theodore’s pride stung; Ellis’s attitude was a direct insult. But behind him, Cecilia tugged at his sleeve. Forcing a polite smile, Theodore replied, “Mr. Ellis, if I spoke out of turn, I apologize. But everyone is new at some point, aren’t they? Even Emma was once a stranger here.”

“Fair point, Mr. Whitman,” Ellis replied, his smile sharp. “We do take on new clients. But we have standards.”

“What kind of standards?” Cecilia pushed past Theodore, chin lifted, unafraid. If it was about money, she was confident—Theodore could outspend anyone.

Ellis’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Our standard is whether we find you… agreeable.”

With that, he picked up his coffee and laughed his way upstairs.

Cecilia, fuming, shouted after him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ellis’s assistant blocked the spiral staircase. “I’m sorry, Mr. Whitman, ma’am. What Mr. Ellis means is, he simply doesn’t care for your company.”

“It’s fine, really. Let’s just head home.” Theodore opened the car door.

Cecilia, subdued now and unsure how Theodore felt about what happened, sat quietly the whole ride back without any more drama.

Not only did Theodore drive her home, he even stayed for lunch before heading out. When he returned to his own place, the first thing he saw were those clothes.

It was already past two in the afternoon. Doing a quick calculation, Theodore realized it was still morning in Emma’s time zone, but wasn’t sure if she’d be awake.

He snapped a photo of the clothes and sent it to Emma:

“These need to be signed for. The shop called me about it. Could you give me your thoughts? How should I reply to them?”