Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 377

“Don’t even think about it—it’s all mine! You and Theo can’t even compare!” Cecilia shot Jared a scornful look.

Jared bristled, letting out a cold laugh. “Your precious Theo—aside from being better looking than me, what else does he have that I don’t?”

“He’s better at everything,” Cecilia shot back, refusing to back down.

“Oh really?” Jared sneered. “We graduated from the same college, same degree. I started the company with him! I’ve put in just as much work as he has. So what, exactly, makes him better?”

“He’s the CEO. You’re the VP. That’s the difference.” Cecilia gave a dismissive huff.

A mocking grin crept across Jared’s face. “So, why are you still sleeping with me? Why not go curl up in bed with your precious Theo?”

“You—” Cecilia glared daggers at him, her fury simmering.

“Stop overthinking things,” Jared said, his voice oily with sarcasm. “Just focus on taking care of yourself and carrying my son. Do your best, and maybe you’ll get that Mrs. Whitman title you’re after.”

“Oh, sure. Easy for you to say. But what if Theo wants a paternity test?”

“He won’t,” Jared said confidently. “His biggest weakness is that he’s too sentimental about our friendship—he trusts people around him far too easily.”

Cecilia stared at him, bewildered. “Jared, I never realized you were this kind of person. Theo’s always treated you so well. How could you betray him?”

Jared slipped an arm around her shoulders, his voice syrupy. “For you, my dear Cici.”

Cecilia scoffed. “Spare me.”

“What’s wrong? Feeling sorry for your Theo now? Can’t stand it? Regretting your choices? Or is it that you still love him?” Jared hissed the words into her ear.

Cecilia said nothing.

Jared let out a cold, humorless laugh. “It’s too late, sweetheart. If Theo finds out how you’ve been lying to him, you’re finished.”

A flicker of fear crossed Cecilia’s eyes.

“So, darling, you have no way out now,” Jared’s voice grew icy, almost menacing. “Just be good and stick with me. From now on, all the wealth and glory of being Mrs. Whitman will be yours alone.”

It was a simple, unique joy of fall.

But now, the plane trees were thick with greenery, wild grass choked the front yard, and rust streaked the old iron gate. A few caterpillars crawled across it, having fallen from the trees above.

There was no sign of anyone living here.

He stood outside for a long time, not even sure why he was standing there at all. His feet felt rooted to the spot, unwilling to move.

Suddenly, the brick-red door creaked open, and someone stepped out.

His heart leapt; when he looked closer, he realized it was Bart’s father.

“Mr. Pearson!” he called out before he could stop himself.

Carney Pearson, Bart’s father, squinted in his direction and came over to open the gate.

“It’s me, Mr. Pearson—Theodore.” Theodore’s voice faltered as he took in Carney’s shock of white hair, a pang tightening his throat. No one should go that grey, that fast—how much grief must he have endured?