The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 128

Chapter 128 – What He Promised to Guard

Ryan arrived home lighter than he had been in weeks.

It showed in the way he shut the door behind him with a sense of finality, as though the world outside had

been left where it belonged. It showed in the way his shoulders eased the moment he stepped into the

quiet warmth of the house. And it showed in the faint curve of his mouth when the smell of food met him

halfway down the hall.

Home.

Not the Ashbrook building.

Not boardrooms and lawyers and threats disguised as politeness.

This.

Eve.

She was in the kitchen, hair loosely tied back, sleeves rolled just enough to show the faint marks of

fatigue on her arms. The meal was already plated, steam rising gently from the dishes. Her posture betrayed her exhaustion more than her face did. She was tired, bone-deep tired, the kind that came from

weeks of sustained effort and emotional labour layered on top of physical strain.

Ryan paused at the threshold and simply watched her for a moment.

The woman carrying his child.

The woman who refused to sit still even when the world gave her reasons to collapse.

She turned when she sensed him.

“You’re home,” she said, relief softening her voice.

He crossed the space between them in three strides and kissed her gently, not urgently, not possessively,

but with care. A grounding kiss. One meant to say I’m here.

“You shouldn’t have cooked,” he said quietly as he pulled back. “You look exhausted.”

Eve smiled, tired but genuine. “I’m fine.”

He gave her a look.

She huffed. “Okay, I’m…, almost fine.”

“Almost doesn’t count,” he murmured.

“You’re the one who keeps saying you don’t like coming home to an empty table,” she teased lightly, trying to deflect. “I’m just being a good wife.”

“I also said,” he countered, “I don’t want to come home to a wife who has fainted in the kitchen.”

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Chapter 178 What He Promised to Guard

+25 Points

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth curved. “I didn’t faint. I sat down. There’s a difference.”

“When you sit down holding the counter like it’s a life raft, it doesn’t feel like a difference,” he replied.

She opened her mouth to argue, thought better of it, and instead nudged his chest with her elbow. “Stop being dramatic and sit. Before the food gets cold.”

Ryan didn’t argue. He guided her to the table and pulled out her chair himself before sitting opposite her.

They ate in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the kind that existed only between people who had learned how to be quiet together. The clink of cutlery, the soft hum of the fridge, the faint buzz of the

world outside their windows, it all faded into the background.

Ryan broke the silence first.

“What time did you leave the set today?” he asked.

“After seven,” Eve admitted.

He frowned immediately. “Eve.”

She lifted a hand. “Before you start, I sat down most of the day. We were going through last-minute

checks. The team ran around more than I did.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” he said. “You still look like you fought a small war.”

“It was more like a skirmish,” she replied. “Besides, we’re almost there. The kitchens are ready. The contestants are registered. The sponsors are happy. The legal team hasn’t had a heart attack. Alexander hasn’t murdered anyone. I’d say that’s progress.”

He tried not to smile and failed. “You’re making jokes to distract me.”

“Yes,” she said openly. “Is it working?”

“No.”

She sighed, setting her fork down. “Ryan, the hard part is over. Truly. Planning, logistics, negotiations, all of that is done. The competition starts soon. What’s left is execution. I’ll be supervising, not chopping onions

for six hours.”

His expression softened, but the concern didn’t leave his eyes.

“Eve,” he said, voice steady but firm, “you need to slow down.”

She looked up, already anticipating where he was going.

“I put you in this position so you wouldn’t feel idle,” he continued. “So you could do what you love. Not so

you could exhaust yourself trying to prove something to anyone.”

Her fingers traced the rim of her glass. “I’m not trying to prove anything.”

He raised an eyebrow.

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Chapter 128 What He Promised to Guard

She hesitated. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

“To who?” he asked quietly. “To my family? To the industry? To yourself?”

+25 Points+

Her gaze dropped to her plate. “To everyone who watched my face on the news and thought, ‘Thief.”

His jaw tightened.

She shrugged softly. “It feels… good… to be associated with something different now. Not scandal. Not

shame. Something I helped build. Something that belongs to me.”

He watched her for a long moment, then reached across the table and covered her hand with his.

“It already belongs to you,” he said. “Before the cameras. Before the applause. Before the ratings. The

work you’re doing, the respect you’re earning, it’s real. And it’s not worth your health.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“You’re pregnant,” he reminded her softly, emphasis deliberate. “And I won’t be happy if something happens to you because you refused to rest. I’m selfish like that.”

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “You’re not selfish.”

He squeezed her fingers lightly. “I am when it comes to you.”

She stared at him, something warm and fragile settling in her chest.

“I promise I’ll slow down,” she said finally. “After the first week of filming.”

He groaned. “That’s not slowing down. That’s a delayed crash.”

“I can handle it,” she said.

“Can you?” he asked. “Tell me the truth. How’s your back? Your feet? Your head?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “My back hates me. My feet are staging a quiet protest. My head is fine. Mostly. Unless Kimberly’s name appears in an email.”

His mouth twitched. “Then we’ll ban her name from your inbox.”

She snorted. “If only it worked like that.”

He stood up suddenly.

She blinked. “What are you doing?”

“Stay there,” he said.

He walked around the table and crouched beside her chair. Before she could protest, he gently lifted one

of her feet into his hands, easing off her slipper.

“Ryan,” she hissed, glancing toward the doorway as if someone might walk in. “What are you doing?”

“Checking on my investment,” he said calmly. “These feet have been carrying my child around all day. They

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Chapter 128 What He Promised to Guard

deserve some respect.”

She shook her head, flustered. “You don’t have to,”

He pressed his thumb gently into the arch of her foot.

She exhaled sharply. “Oh.”

“Exactly,” he said. “You were going to pretend everything was fine.”

“Don’t stop,” she muttered immediately, eyes fluttering closed.

He smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

He massaged her foot slowly, firmly, the tension melting beneath his touch. She relaxed against the chair,

shoulders drooping as the ache eased.

“You’re dangerous,” she said quietly.

“How?”

“You make it hard to argue with you.”

“That’s the goal,” he replied. “Next time I tell you to sit down, remember this.”

She cracked one eye open. “Bribing me with massages now?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he said. “I’ll do worse.”

Her mouth curved. “Like what?”

“I’ll tell Alexander to send you home every day at five,” he threatened lightly. “Security escort. No

loopholes.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she gasped.

“Try me,” he echoed, eyes glinting.

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