Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 467

Emma was simmering with a frustration that had nowhere to go. She'd been the one to declare they were strangers, yet here she was, the one he'd just rescued.

"Don't think for a second that I'm the one who saved you," he said suddenly.

It was as if he'd read her mind again.

Emma shot him a look, her anger a silent, burning thing.

*So he can read me now?* she fumed inwardly. *Where was this brilliant insight before? Was his head stuffed with cotton back then?*

"I only got involved because Mr. Fairchild called me, and I happened to be the one who could provide the location data," he explained, his tone flat. "It wouldn't have mattered if it was you or a complete stranger; I would have come either way. And with Mr. Fairchild out of Cresthaven for the next couple of days, someone had to board the ship. Who else was going to do it?"

The words of anger and resentment died in her throat.

"Besides, it was me who—"

"Have you found her?" a voice called from the other end of the deck before Theodore Whitman could finish.

"We found her," Theodore replied, getting to his feet.

It was one of the police officers.

The officer asked Emma a few more questions and took down her statement. She learned that the two assailants had already been taken off the cargo ship by speedboat to ensure the safety of the crew and cargo. The police and Theodore had stayed behind to find her and would now disembark at the next port.

"How far is that? How long until we reach the next port?" Emma couldn't help but ask.

The ship was a freighter with few passengers to begin with. As it pushed forward into the vast, inky expanse of the deep sea, she stared at the endless darkness ahead, and a genuine shiver of fear ran down her spine.

"About two or three hours, I'd estimate," the officer said before walking away.

Emma felt too awkward to trail after him, the words she wanted to say stuck in her throat. She let out a quiet sigh.

"Are you scared?" Theodore finally seemed to notice.

Emma ignored him.

He glanced around at their surroundings. "Of the dark? Or the criminals?"

Her expression was a clear sign that said, *I have no interest in talking to you*.

"You don't have to be. I'll stay with you until we dock."

A sudden wave of irritation washed over Emma. "Aren't you aware that you're more terrifying than any criminal?"

Theodore's face fell. He knew what she was referring to—a hurt so deep that even if she chose to forget, the scar would never fade. He didn't say anything more, simply sitting down quietly beside her. Right now, even the sound of his voice must be grating to her.

The weather was actually beautiful. The night sky was brilliant, a river of stars flowing across the unobstructed ocean canvas, each one shining with breathtaking clarity.

"I wished for Theodore Whitman to be barren yet cursed with a house full of children, for every venture he starts to fail, for him to end up penniless and alone, and to meet a miserable end," she rattled off in a single breath.

Theodore just listened and then chuckled softly.

"I really did. You don't believe me?" His smile was getting on her nerves.

"Alright, I believe you," he said. "You still hate me that much?"

Emma paused. His tone made it clear he didn't believe her at all. And in truth, she hadn't made that wish.

"Don't flatter yourself. Hating you would be a waste of energy, and you're not worth the effort," she retorted, just for the satisfaction of having the last word. "Did you make a wish?" she asked, turning to him.

That didn't fit his character at all. Take him to church, and he'd say he didn't believe in God. Before final exams, when everyone else was making wishes for good luck, he'd scoffed. Even blowing out birthday candles seemed like torture to him. And now he was making a wish on a shooting star?

To her surprise, he nodded. "Yeah. I did. But I can't tell you. You used to say it won't come true if you say it out loud."

"Who cares what you wished for?!" Did she even ask? And he just had to say he couldn't tell *her*? It was probably something about Anna anyway, she thought. He himself had said he wanted a quiet, simple life with her—just the two of them, day in and day out.

She buried her face in her knees again. As the night deepened, the temperature on the ocean dropped, and a chill began to set in.

A moment later, she couldn't stop a sudden sneeze.