The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 144

Chapter 144, “Risotto Under Fire” (Part 2)

Ryan’s POV

On the other side of the kitchen, Ashley moved like she belonged there.

No panic, no wasted motion, no frantic pretending for the cameras. She was sweating, everyone was, but her hands stayed steady, her shoulders relaxed, her eyes locked on the pan like nothing else in the room

mattered.

Tevin noticed her first.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes bright with the kind of interest he usually saved for drama.

“Okay,” he said loudly, pointing with the end of his pen. “Whoever that is, she’s cooking like she’s not afraid of anything.”

Maxwell followed Tevin’s line of sight, quiet as ever. Then he gave a low hum.

“She’s not performing,” Maxwell said. “She’s just… doing it.”

Tevin glanced sideways at him, amused. “Look at you. Suddenly you’re a food critic.”

Maxwell didn’t blink. “I told Eve I’d judge with my stomach.”

Tevin scoffed. “And I told her I’d judge with my soul. My soul is starving, by the way.”

Ryan kept his expression neutral, but he watched the kitchen closely, less for flavour and more for risk.

Because this show wasn’t just entertainment. It was Ashbrook Corp’s name, Ashbrook Corp’s sponsors,

Ashbrook Corp’s reputation, broadcast live under lights hot enough to melt people’s self-control.

The MC hovered near the centre again, bouncing on his heels like the chaos energised him.

“Contestants!” he shouted into the mic. “You have twenty minutes remaining!”

A groan rippled through the room.

Someone muttered, “God help me,” and the mic caught it perfectly. The audience laughed, delighted.

At another station, a contestant yanked a drawer too hard. It slammed. They froze immediately, eyes darting toward the judges like they expected punishment.

Tevin clapped once, loud and dramatic. “No panic!” he called out. “Panic makes you ugly on camera!”

The audience screamed with laughter.

Maxwell leaned closer to Tevin, voice dry. “They were ugly before the panic.”

Tevin gasped like he’d been stabbed. “I’m writing that down. That’s cruel.”

Eve sat beside Ryan, composed in that professional calm she wore like armour. But he could feel the tension in her, the way her body went still in the presence of something it refused to name out loud.

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Chapter 144 Risotto Under Fire” (Part 2)

Mathew.

Ryan’s eyes found him again.

He wasn’t the worst cook on the floor. That was the problem.

Clar

He was competent enough to stay alive in the competition. Competent enough to keep showing up, round after round, in the same space Eve had to occupy. Competent enough to turn this into a slow, televised pressure point.

He stirred, stopped, tasted, stirred again, too hard at first, then forced himself to slow down as if he was trying to control his own anger.

His jaw clenched.

His shoulders stayed rigid.

Then his hand trembled once, just once.

A flicker. A crack in control.

He covered it instantly by reaching for garnish like it was planned. Like he’d meant to do it.

But Ryan saw it.

And Maxwell saw it too.

Maxwell didn’t comment on technique, none of them were pretending they knew anything about cooking,

but his eyes sharpened.

“He’s rattled,” Maxwell murmured. “That one.”

Tevin leaned closer. “Rattled or possessed?”

Maxwell’s voice stayed flat. “Both.”

Eve’s posture didn’t change, but Ryan felt her tension tighten, like a wire pulled too far.

He leaned closer to her, keeping his voice low enough that the cameras wouldn’t catch it.

“Do you want to step out for a minute?” he asked.

Eve’s eyes stayed forward. “No.”

It wasn’t stubborn.

It was deliberate.

She wasn’t running. Not today.

Camila leaned in from Eve’s other side, voice soft but edged. “He’s looking at you again.”

Eve didn’t turn her head. “Let him.”

Camila’s mouth tightened. “He’s going to cause trouble.”

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< Chapter 144 Risotto Under Fire” (Part 2)

Eve’s tone stayed even. “Then he’ll do it whether I react or not. So I won’t react.”

Ryan held still.

He understood exactly what she was doing, because in his world, when someone tried to provoke you

publicly, you didn’t hand them the narrative they wanted.

You gave them calm.

You gave them nothing.

And it was killing Mathew that Eve was giving him nothing.

The MC’s voice cut through again.

“Contestants! Ten minutes!”

The kitchen tightened.

Everyone moved faster.

Too fast.

And that was when the mistakes started piling up.

Clam

One contestant added liquid in a rush, then stared at the pan like it had betrayed them. Another tasted,

winced, then tried to fix it with a frantic handful of something they didn’t measure. Someone else plated too early and stood frozen, watching their dish sit and change while the seconds bled away.

Tevin watched it all like it was a movie. “This is why I don’t cook,” he announced. “Cooking is stressful. Ordering is peaceful.”

Maxwell didn’t look away from the stations. “Your stomach is the only thing you’ve ever committed to.”

Tevin turned to him. “Excuse me. I’m also committed to fashion.”

“Five minutes!” the MC shouted.

The room almost cracked.

Even Ashley’s shoulders tightened slightly, but she didn’t lose her rhythm. She kept moving with controlled purpose, like she trusted herself more than she feared the lights.

Mathew’s stirring became too aggressive again for a moment, like he was fighting the pan. Then he caught

himself again and forced himself to slow down, lips pressing into a thin line.

Ryan watched his face.

He wasn’t just focused.

He was furious.

Not at the dish.

Chapter 144 Risotto Under Fire (Part 2)

At the situation.

At being here under these lights while Eve sat above him in power, calm, untouchable, and unwilling to fear

him.

“Time!” the MC bellowed. “Hands up!”

A siren blared.

Contestants froze with hands lifted like they’d been caught in a raid. A few laughed nervously. Someone

whispered, “Thank God,” and the mic picked it up clean. The audience clapped like they’d just watched a boxing match.

The MC strutted between the stations, feeding the crowd.

“Look at these plates! Look at the sweat! Look at the pressure!” he shouted. “Now… now we find out who’s

real!”

The contestants carried their dishes forward in a staggered line, each plate placed down with careful reverence that tightened something in Ryan’s chest.

Because this wasn’t just food.

It was ego. It was hope. It was survival on porcelain.

The MC turned to the judging table, voice dropping into theatrical seriousness.

“Judges… it’s time.”

The studio fell into that hush again, that sacred silence people reserved for verdicts.

Tevin stood first, rolling his shoulders like he was about to walk into a club, not taste risotto he didn’t

understand.

Maxwell rose beside him, expression unreadable.

The other culinary judges stood too, the ones who actually knew what they were looking at, clipboards ready, faces serious.

Eve stayed seated beside Ryan. That had been planned. The show needed her presence and integrity, but

not a moment that could be twisted into she favoured someone or she punished someone.

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