Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 90

On the eighteenth day, her passport arrived in the mail.

Two days earlier, on the sixteenth, she’d had her visa appointment.

Time really did fly.

She’d woken up early on the day of the appointment, but Theodore was up even

earlier.

She had no idea what he had been fiddling with in the room that morning before heading out.

Once he’d left, she finally got up herself. Since her interview was scheduled for the afternoon, there was no rush. After breakfast, she took out the folder holding all her visa documents and checked everything inside one more time, just to be sure.

Once she’d meticulously gone through each item and made sure nothing was missing, she reached for her wallet.

That’s when she realized her ID was gone.

What?!

She distinctly remembered tucking it into her wallet after her flight yesterday.

She turned the wallet inside out, checking every pocket, every slot–nothing!

And then it hit her–Theodore, busy in the room this morning!

Could he have taken her ID?

She immediately called him. He picked up right away, his voice cool and detached. “Hello?”

“Theodore! Where’s my ID?” she blurted, unable to hide her panic. “Did you take it?”

“Yes,” he replied, calm and to the point.

“Why would you take my ID?”

He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he countered, “Why do you need it right now?”

“That’s none of your business! Just give it back!” Emma’s patience was wearing thin.

Theodore still refused to answer her question, pushing her for an explanation instead.

“What are you up to this time?” he asked. “Running off on some wild adventure

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again?”

“I… I’m… going to… look at an apartment,” she lied, tripping over her words.

He fell silent for a moment, then said, “Come by.”

“Where? At your office? You want me to pick it up from there?”

“Yes. Come over.”

“What are you even doing with my ID?” she demanded, slipping on her shoes by the door as she spoke, already preparing to leave.

His tone turned breezy, almost dismissive. “There’s just some paperwork to handle–some assets stuff.”

That, she could believe. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Theodore had always been strangely unguarded with her when it came to money. In fact, several properties were still registered under her name.

Not that it was something to be happy about–it had always been about

compensation, not trust.

Emma called for a cab and headed straight to Theodore’s company.

She hadn’t set foot in Theodore’s office in nearly five years. Just walking through the doors made her uneasy–her first visit here had been a disaster.

The receptionist was new and didn’t recognize her at all.

“Hello, you need an appointment to see Mr. Whitman. Do you have one?” the receptionist asked, all polite professionalism.

Of course–appointments only.

Emma sent Theodore a text, telling him she was at the front desk.

But there was no reply.

She tried calling again. This time, he didn’t answer.

With no other choice, she finally told the receptionist her name.

The woman’s eyes widened. “Mrs. Whitman?” Then she laughed, shaking her head. “Miss, if every woman who came here to see Mr. Whitman said she was Mrs. Whitman, he’d have a harem stretching around the globe.”

“I’m serious. Just tell him Emma’s here,” Emma insisted. Did Theodore really have that

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many women coming to see him, or had this girl just read too many romance novels?

“If I had to check with him every time, Mr. Whitman would get nothing done except deal with you lot all day,” the receptionist muttered, rolling her eyes.

Emma frowned. “You lot? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know,” the receptionist replied, her tone turning snide. “All you gold–diggers looking for a free ride. Honestly, most of the women at least show up looking put

together. But you? Even a cripple thinks she stands a chance! Talk about not knowing your place.”