Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 522

Theodore listened quietly until she was finished. Then he said, "So, you see."

"See what?" Emma frowned.

"You see, you know everything," Theodore repeated her own words back to her. "Marriage isn't about repaying a debt, it's not something to be forced, and it's not a cage. It's about living a happy life together."

Emma was stunned.

"Emma," he said, stepping closer to her, "you have to believe in yourself. You are right. Whoever you marry, it's to be happy with them. And if you're not happy, either person has the right to end it. If the other person refuses, that's their problem, not yours. You are not wrong."

So, this was his endgame, this whole elaborate circle he'd run her in.

"Emma, when you truly love someone, you want to give them everything you have and still feel like it's not enough. It's not a transaction where you say, 'I gave you this much, so what do I get in return?' That's not love, right?" Theodore's eyes glimmered in the darkness. "That's how I used to talk to business partners. 'I invested so much money, and this is the result you give me?' But marriage isn't a business deal."

Larson had said similar things, but back then, Emma's mind had been too clouded to hear him.

Now, the words were crystal clear.

"Theodore," she said, her eyes fixed on a mosquito on his neck. "Do you regret it? Getting divorced and losing your entire fortune?"

Theodore just smiled without a word.

"What's that supposed to mean? You do regret it?" Emma's brow furrowed. "Is all this buttering me up for the last few days some scheme to get it back?"

"Would you give it back?" he asked.

"I'd give…" She slapped his neck with a sharp crack. "…you a slap!"

She slapped him and ran, glancing down at her palm under the light. A fat mosquito, engorged with Theodore's blood, had left a crimson smear on her hand.

Theodore watched her retreat, a smile on his face. How could he regret it? Love was a constant feeling of indebtedness. He did have regrets—for not cherishing her—but there were no second chances.

His neck started to itch. He scratched it, feeling a welt rise.

"You'll always be the best, Emma!" he shouted after her.

The word "given" still made her stomach turn, but she took a long drink of ice water and pushed the nausea down.

Her grandmother, who had been watching her with intense focus, finally relaxed when she saw Emma finish all the letters without breaking down.

"Grandma, I told you I'm okay," Emma said, offering a reassuring smile.

Just then, her brother called. He told her that Sebastian's parents were in town and wanted the two families to sit down for a meal. He asked if she would be willing to go.

Larson supported her decision and assured her that he and their aunt would be right there with her.

That evening, accompanied by her aunt and brother, Emma went to the restaurant to meet Sebastian and his family.

When they arrived, Sebastian and his parents were already seated. As always, Ms. Remington was impeccably elegant. Seeing Emma, her face broke into a perfectly measured smile.