Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 281

Her mind was entirely consumed with worry for her grandmother. She had no patience for anything that didn’t concern her.

“Who is he?” Theodore’s glare could have cut glass as he fixed his eyes on Larson standing nearby.

Emma opened her mouth to answer, but Larson stepped in protectively.

“Emmie, let’s go.” His tone was calm; his gaze swept across Theodore’s face with barely a flicker of emotion.

“Stop right there!” Theodore rushed after them, blocking their path. His eyes were still sharp with hostility, drilled into Larson, but his question was for Emma. “Have you heard anything about your grandmother?”

“That’s none of your business, sir.” In the chill of the evening, Larson kept Emma shielded behind him, dressed in somber black, his expression cool and composed, radiating an air of quiet authority.

Theodore let out a cold, humorless laugh. “None of my business? And who the hell are you, exactly? Why don’t you ask her who I am—ask her if this is any of my business! Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“Oh, I know,” Larson replied, his tone ice-cold. “Theodore Whitman. Emma’s husband. Or should I add a little prefix there? Ex? Soon-to-be ex-husband, right?”

That little word—“ex”—hit Theodore like a slap. “Ex? Not a chance! Emma, come here!”

The words burst out of him almost by instinct. Emma had always listened to him; whenever he called for her, she would come, no matter what. Even if she was upset with him now, he was sure that when it came down to it, she would never make the wrong choice.

But Emma didn’t budge.

She stayed behind Larson, exhausted by Theodore’s endless drama—especially now, when her grandmother was still missing. Husband, ex-husband, whatever—none of it mattered. It was all just noise.

He wouldn’t release her, shaking his head. “Emma, come home. You haven’t been back in a month. Don’t you miss it? Fallon’s gone now—I do all the cleaning myself. Everything’s exactly as you left it. Please, just come home.”

“Theodore, why do you have to be like this?” Emma’s frustration finally spilled over. “That place? You actually think it’s my home? The passcode is your old flame’s birthday—did you forget? The whole place is decorated just the way she liked it. You really think that’s my home? I hate it there.”

Theodore stared at her, stunned into silence.

“Mr. Whitman, have some dignity,” Larson said, prying Theodore’s fingers off Emma’s wrist, one by one, before steering her away.

“Emma!” Theodore watched helplessly as she climbed into Larson’s car. He stood there unmoving for a long time, until a police officer roused him from his daze. That’s right. Her grandmother—finding her is all that matters now. That’s what Emma needs. That’s what’s important.