Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 289

She had no choice but to confess everything—how she transferred the money to Gabriella, how she managed to bail Julian out, and how she’d dropped hints that led them to Emma’s grandmother. In the end, she even revealed where Julian was hiding the old lady.

The man who got the answers didn’t waste a second. As he turned to leave, he tossed a chilling warning over his shoulder. “Keep an eye on her. If she so much as lies about a single word, she can choose: would she rather become shark bait, or live out her days as a slave in some godforsaken hellhole? Her choice.”

With that, the lights snapped off, plunging the room into darkness.

She tried crawling around, feeling her way along the walls for a switch, but it was useless. Her fingers found the switch, but the power was out—they’d cut it at the source.

The utter absence of light was suffocating.

If they never came back, she’d lose her mind in this claustrophobic blackness long before she starved.

Finally—

Footsteps. Someone was coming.

She couldn’t make out who it was, not with the shadows pressing in on all sides. All she could remember was the glint of a watch face and the unnerving presence that filled the room.

But right now, none of that mattered. She stumbled and scrambled forward, desperate. “Let me out! Did you find her? Is she okay? Is she still alive? Please, just let me go! I only told them where to find Emma’s grandmother, I just wanted them to take her away so Theodore would stop obsessing over some old woman! I never wanted her to get hurt, I swear! If anything happens to her, it’s the Bennetts’ fault, not mine! It’s not my fault… it’s really not…”

She was terrified.

Terrified that Emma’s grandmother might really have been tortured to death, that the man in the black shirt would, in a fit of rage, pack her off onto a cargo ship.

If she ended up on that boat, being thrown to the fish would be a mercy. What she dreaded most was that “godforsaken” place he’d threatened—being made a “slave” there didn’t mean honest work. It was a fate worse than death. She’d rather be fish food.

She had never in her life wished so desperately for Emma’s grandmother to be safe.

Her voice trembled as she pleaded with the faceless figures before her. “Did you find her? Is Emma’s grandmother alright? Please… I never wanted to hurt her, I swear, I just—”

“Take her,” Latham ordered coolly.

A bodyguard yanked a sack over her head and hauled her out of the basement.

***

Hospital.

Under Larson’s watchful eye, Emma had already finished her meal.

Theodore sat nearby, slicing fruit with practiced care. Once he saw Emma had eaten, he set a plate of neatly cut fruit by her side. “Want some fruit?”

Emma turned her face away, refusing to look at him.

“Emma…”

Theodore’s expression darkened. “That’s none of your business.”

Larson gave a soft laugh. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare meddle in Mr. Whitman’s affairs. I was just thinking—what kind of man leaves his wife’s grandmother in the hospital after something like this, just to rush off to another woman?”

“Shut your mouth! You don’t understand anything!” Theodore snapped.

But then he softened his tone, turning to Emma. “Emma, Cici’s missing. I’m just worried… I’m afraid something might have happened to her, just like what happened to Grandma…”

Larson snorted, amused.

There was something about the way Larson laughed that Theodore found infuriating—an air of superiority that grated on his nerves.

“What the hell are you laughing at? How can you find anything funny right now?” Theodore gritted his teeth.

Larson looked utterly at ease. “Why shouldn’t I laugh? The person I needed to save has already been rescued. The people I care about most are right here, and everything’s finally coming together. Why shouldn’t I be happy?”

“The people you care about most? Who would that be? What gives you the right to say that?” Theodore was shaking with anger now.

Larson just smiled, slipped an arm around Emma’s shoulders, and took the old lady’s hand in his. “Right here. The people who matter most to me are right here. Tell me, Mr. Whitman—where are yours?”

“You—” Theodore glared at him, barely restraining himself. “I’m only holding back because we’re in a hospital. You’d better watch yourself, or else…”