The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 125

Chapter 125- What She Would Protect

You will leave my son. Take your bastard with you and disappear.

The words echoed again.

Eve’s jaw tightened. “Over my dead body,” she muttered.

Her phone rang.

The sound startled her more than it should have, slicing through the fragile pocket of quiet with insistent

cheerfulness.

She glanced at the screen, and her entire face softened.

Camila Rodrigo.

Eve answered immediately. “Camila!”

“Eve!” Camila’s voice burst through the line, bright and warm, that familiar musical lilt wrapping around Eve like a hug. “Tell me you’re sitting down.”

Eve laughed, sinking more comfortably into her chair. “I am now. What did you do?”

Camila giggled. “Mitre and I have news.”

Eve smiled. “Is it good news? Or the kind of news where I have to pretend it’s good but secretly panic?”

“Good,” Camila said firmly. “Very good. We’re coming to Bexlin City.”

Eve straightened. “You’re what?”

“We’re coming,” Camila repeated. “To your city. To you.” She paused theatrically. “Our restaurant entered the cooking competition. Our staff will be representing us in the televised qualifiers. We’re coming to cheer them on, and we were hoping..” She hesitated. “We were hoping we could stay with you. If you don’t

mind.”

Eve’s heart swelled.

“Of course you can stay with me,” she said instantly. “I’d love that. I’ve missed you.”

Camila let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “I told Mitre you’d say yes. He said we should get a hotel because we’d be intruding.”

A muffled male voice grumbled in the background.

Eve smiled wider. “Is that him?”

“Yes,” Camila said. “He’s pouting. Say hello.”

There was a rustle, then Mitre’s deep voice came through. “Eve.”

“Mitre!” Eve said, her chest warming. “How are you?”

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“Busy,” he replied. “We’ve been pretending we know what we’re doing without you.”

Camila snorted. “Speak for yourself.”

Mitre continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “The new chef is… decent.”

“Decent?” Camila repeated. “You complained about his plating yesterday.”

“I said,” Mitre corrected, “that he adds too much garnish.”

Eve laughed. “That sounds like you.”

“You spoilt us,” Mitre said. “Now every dish, I ask, ‘Would Eve serve this?’ and if the answer is no, I shout at

someone.”

“You do not shout,” Camila protested. “You stare. They run. Very efficient.”

Eve’s throat tightened with affection. “I really missed you both,” she admitted.

“We missed you more,” Camila said. “The customers keep asking when you’re coming back to cook for

them.”

“Tell them never,” Mitre muttered. “I am not sharing her again.”

Camila laughed into the phone. “He’s joking.”

“I’m not,” he argued.

Eve wiped at the corner of one eye, surprised to find it damp. “Who will run the restaurant while you’re

gone?” she asked, carefully steering her voice back to lightness.

“Oh!” Camila perked up. “That’s the other part of the news. Ryan sent a professional chef and a manager to support us. You know that, right?”

Eve blinked. “No, I… I didn’t.”

“He didn’t tell you?” Camila asked, surprised.

Eve frowned. “He mentioned helping a bit but didn’t give details.”

“Helping a bit,” Camila repeated with a soft scoff. “He practically rescued us. The new manager reorganised everything. The chef covers the busy shifts. We’ve actually had evenings off.” Her voice

softened. “We don’t know how to thank you both.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Eve said. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You existed,” Mitre said dryly. “That was enough. He did it because he loves you.”

Heat crept up Eve’s neck. “He did it because you deserve it,” she replied. “You took me in when I had nowhere else to go.”

“And we’d do it again,” Camila said. “Any time.”

“One of the customers told me yesterday,” Mitre added, “that the food still isn’t as good as when you’re in

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the kitchen.”

Eve laughed, the sound looser now. “That customer is biased.”

“I agree,” Mitre said. “But I also agree with the customer.”

Camila groaned. “Don’t start. He’s been rehearsing that line.”

“I say only truth,” Mitre insisted. “You are the fire in that kitchen, Eve. The rest of us are just smoke.”

Eve covered her eyes briefly, overwhelmed by warmth. “You’re going to make me cry.”

25 Panite

“Good,” Camila said. “We made you cry before for bad reasons. Now we want to do it for good reasons.”

Eve sniffed once, then laughed. “When are you arriving?”

“Two days,” Camila replied. “We’ll arrive in the evening if all goes well. Are you sure you’re okay with us

staying with you? It’s not too much? You have the baby, and your husband, and all this Ashbrook drama I keep reading about…”

Eve hesitated for a fraction of a second at the mention of drama.

Then she pushed it aside.

“I’m sure,” she said. “Stay with me. Please. It’ll be good to have people in the house who don’t want to argue about legacy and scandals.”

“You say that now,” Mitre murmured. “Wait until I start complaining about Bexlin bread.”

Camila laughed. “Ignore him. He’s already planning to inspect the local markets.”

“I have to,” Mitre said. “How will I gossip properly about your city if I don’t see it?”

Eve smiled. “You can gossip all you want. Just… don’t let Ryan hear you insult his favourite bakery.”

“We will insult it softly,” Mitre promised. “In Spanish.”

“Perfect,” Eve said, giggling.

Camila’s tone grew tender. “How are you, Eve? Really?”

Eve glanced at the closed office door, at the faint reflection of herself in the glass, hair slightly out of

place, cheeks still a little flushed from the confrontation.

“I’m…” She paused, searching for the right words. “I’m learning how to protect myself,” she said finally. “And

the baby. And Ryan. One boundary at a time.”

Camila was quiet for a moment. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Eve replied gently. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“If it’s about your in-laws, I will worry,” Camila said. “I don’t like that house of snakes.”

Mitre muttered, “Understatement.”

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Eve felt a bubble of laughter she hadn’t expected. “I’ll tell you more when you get here,” she promised.” Right now I need to go through some contestant profiles before the next meeting.”

“You’re really important now,” Camila teased. “Big producer madam.”

“Please,” Eve groaned. “If you call me madam in person, I will throw flour at you.”

“See?” Camila told Mitre smugly. “She’s still our Eve.”

“Our Eve,” Mitre echoed quietly. “Ashbrooks can shout all they like. She belongs to us too.”

Eve’s eyes stung again.

“I’ll text you the address,” she said softly. “And send a list of things you don’t need to pack because I already have them.”

“Like what?” Camila asked.

“Tea,” Eve said. “And apron. I kept your apron, remember?”

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