Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 50

He was wearing a silver ring on his finger.

“It’s just something I wear for fun. No need to make a big deal out of it.” His tone was casual, almost dismissive, but he didn’t take the ring off.

Emma let out a quiet laugh and said nothing more.

She remembered, clear as day, the time he’d slipped off his wedding band and declared, “Business meetings at the firm–wearing a ring just doesn’t look professional.”

As if there’s a single deal in this world that’s ever fallen through because someone wore their wedding ring.

Of course, she’d always known the truth. Back then, she hadn’t yet been battered by the reality of marriage–still clinging to her illusions.

Maybe the whole “ring” incident had left him feeling guilty, because now his tone softened, losing the edge it had earlier. “I’m doing this for your own good, Emma. I honestly believe there isn’t another man out there who’d treat you the way I do. I’m not perfect–far from it. I have my flaws. But when it comes to you, I’m sincere. No games, no secrets. If you wanted, I could put your name on every account and property I own. You can’t say that about other people, can you? Who knows what their intentions are?”

“She’s in your house, and I’m in your heart.”

Theodore’s words inevitably brought up that “classic line” again, the one that stung every time. Emma didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her reaction, so she put on her headphones, ending the conversation.

Seeing this, Theodore hesitated, started to speak, then fell silent and focused on driving.

Emma didn’t play any music.

She didn’t know why, but when emotions were running high, even the simplest song could pull her under, drowning her in memories and sorrow. Sometimes a random melody was all it took to make her cry.

So she just scrolled through her phone to distract herself.

Even though she’d already set her feed to block all of Cecilia’s posts, somehow, one

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Chapter 50

still popped up.

Two hands–fingers interlaced. Both wore rings on their fourth fingers. The man’s was a plain silver band; on Cecilia’s hand sparkled a massive diamond.

The caption read: “You give me a silver ring, I give you a diamond–such a ‘trade‘ seems almost too good to be true, doesn’t it?”

Then, in parentheses:

(Almost thirty and still afraid of taking bitter medicine. Your sweet words are the best sugar.)

This time, unlike the last post where Cecilia sat in a supermarket cart, the comments were all envy and admiration.

Emma had no idea what illness Cecilia had. She only remembered that back when she herself was hurt–hurting so badly she thought she might die–the only one who’d comforted her was her grandmother.

He would come visit, sure, but every visit felt like he was serving time.

The car rolled up to a red light at the intersection. Theodore stopped, glancing over at Emma, who sat silently, her phone screen in full view.

“What are you looking at?” His brow furrowed as he reached for her phone.

Emma quickly pulled her phone out of sight.

“Nothing. I was just thinking–didn’t you say just now that you’d put everything in my name?” Emma took off her headphones. “So, does that mean the money you spent on that diamond is mine too?”

Theodore’s eyes flashed with anger. “Emma, I always thought you were reasonable. I can’t believe you’re being so petty.”

So, once again, it was her fault for being “immature.”

“Weren’t those your words? ‘Everything I own.” She’d only meant it as a joke; she’d never actually cared about his assets. She hadn’t even screenshotted any of Cecilia’s dozens of posts–if she were one of those scheming wives, wouldn’t she have gathered evidence by now, ready to fight him in court for every last penny?

“Emma.” The light turned green. As he drove off, his voice was sharp again. “It’s fine to be jealous, but don’t take it too far.”

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