Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 56

“Are you serious?” His expression darkened.

“Yes.” She never joked, never played the jealous wife, and certainly wasn’t throwing a

tantrum.

“Fine.” He nodded, lips pressed tight. “Just don’t come to regret this.”

He strode back to the counter, jabbing a finger at the ten watches on display. “I’ll take

them all!”

Vivian finally pieced things together–so Emma was this man’s actual wife, and the overly sweet woman who’d just left was the mistress.

Vivian promptly shut the display case. “Sorry, sir, I’m not selling anymore.”

Theodore was taken aback. Of all things, he hadn’t expected to get stonewalled by a store clerk. For the first time in his life, he threw his weight around. “Do you have any idea who I am? If I wanted, I could buy this entire shop on a whim.”

Vivian only straightened, her small face stubborn. “Well, I’d rather go bankrupt than sell. I may be nobody, but one thing I won’t do is let something from my hands end up with a mistress.”

“You-” Theodore was truly at a loss for words, his anger flaring.

Emma quickly stepped in to smooth things over, turning to Vivian. “Are you nuts? Sell them! At a premium! If he’s got a redeeming quality, it’s that he’s loaded. Who else are you supposed to fleece?”

Theodore, who had been fuming a second ago, actually snorted with laughter at that. “Some things never change. Always trying to rip me off, aren’t you?”

Emma ignored him, throwing Vivian a meaningful look–jack up the price.

With Emma’s encouragement, Vivian took out all ten watches and quoted a price. double the market value.

Theodore knew full well he was getting gouged, but with Emma standing there, looking at him like he was beneath her, he only scoffed. “Fine. Ring it up.”

“And the ring!” He tapped the glass.

Vivian glanced at Emma.

Emma gestured: Go on, sell it!

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Vivian didn’t hold back, quoting double the price again.

Theodore didn’t hesitate for a second and paid.

Once everything was boxed up, Vivian handed it all to Theodore.

He took the bags, then turned to Emma. “And you. Get in the car!”

Emma didn’t bother arguing. Fine, she’d get in.

No sooner had she slid into the passenger seat than her phone buzzed–a text from the bank. Money had just come in.

A second later, a WhatsApp message popped up from Vivian: That was the money for the ring. I sent it all to you. Don’t be sad, girl.

Emma replied with a cheerful emoji. Sad? Please. The worst was already behind her.

“Having fun?” Theodore wasn’t stupid; he could tell exactly what she was up to with her phone.

Emma tucked her phone away.

“So. You mailed me your doll, sold all your gifts, pawned the wedding ring. What’s next, selling the house?” he asked.

Emma paused. Actually, if it weren’t for the fact that she’d need his signature to sell the house, she probably would have done just that.

“If you’re short on cash, just ask. How much do you need? You’ve got your own cards, and I even gave you an extra one. Still not enough?” He drove on, glancing at her. “If your family needs to buy a house, just tell me where and I’ll pay for it. Seriously, Mrs. Whitman, recruiting outsiders to scam your own husband–does that make you feel clever, or just bored?”

Another message pinged–this time from the embassy. Her fingerprinting appointment was confirmed.

Right on cue, Ms. Brown forwarded the same notice: she was to be in Capital City the day after tomorrow for her appointment.

Emma’s mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible excuse to go to Capital City…

Theodore noticed her silence and pressed, “I’m talking to you, Mrs. Whitman. Where’d you go just now?”

Emma snapped out of it. “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking, objects really do hold their value. See, I can sell luxury goods and get cash. But if I tried to put my husband on

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the market, nobody would take him.”

The light ahead turned red.

Theodore slammed on the brakes.

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