The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 146

Chapter 146, “Risotto Under Fire” (Part 4)

Ryan’s POV

Mathew forced his expression into something neutral, something that looked like acceptance.

But it wasn’t acceptance.

It was containment.

“Yes,” Mathew said tightly, like he was swallowing nails.

Tevin leaned back, studying Mathew’s face like he was suddenly more interested in the man than the dish.

“But you survived,” Tevin said, forcing a grin to lighten it. “So breathe.”

Mathew didn’t smile.

Not really.

He stepped back to let the next plate through, shoulders still too rigid, like he was bracing for something

worse than critique.

Eve remained composed. Professional. Still.

But Ryan felt the tension in her like a pulse beneath her skin, because she knew what he knew:

Mathew didn’t care about cooking.

He cared about not being humiliated.

And he had already decided Eve was the reason humiliation existed in his life at all.

When the judges returned to their seats, the host moved back to centre stage, raising his hands

dramatically.

“Alright!” he shouted. “Judges have tasted! Notes have been made! Dreams have been tested! Hearts are

in throats!”

The crowd laughed, but it came out strained, because now they wanted the result more than the jokes.

“Before we announce,” the host continued, dragging it out, “let’s remind ourselves, this is Round One. This

is only the beginning. But Round One?” He pointed at the contestants. “Round One sets the tone!”

He paced.

“Some of you came in confident. Some of you came in scared. Some of you came in pretending you were confident so you wouldn’t look scared!”

A few contestants laughed nervously.

“And then risotto arrived,” he added, and the crowd laughed harder.

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Paten 146 Risotto Under Fire (Part 4)

Tevin leaned forward and shouted, “Stop stalling! My stomach wants closure!”

The audience cheered.

Maxwell didn’t react, only muttered, “Your stomach is impatient,” like it was an insult.

The host grinned. “Alright, alright!” He raised both hands. “Let’s do it!”

The screen behind him lit up, but he kept talking anyway, dragging the moment out like he enjoyed the suffering.

Chapp

“Third place,” he announced, “goes to a contestant whose risotto was close, strong effort, good instincts,

but just rushed enough to cost the top,

Mathew’s face was still.

But his eyes weren’t.

His eyes were burning.

“MATHEW!”

The studio erupted into applause.

Mathew stepped forward with a forced smile that looked like it hurt to hold. He nodded like he was grateful, shook the host’s hand, then turned to the judges.

Tevin slapped his shoulder a little too familiarly. “You survived!” Tevin said, grinning.

Mathew gave a tight nod. “Thank you.”

Maxwell didn’t smile. He only inclined his head once.

Mathew’s smile twitched like it wanted to die.

He turned back, clapping politely for the next announcement.

Second place went to another contestant, not Ashley, not Mathew, and the crowd applauded while the winner looked like they might cry.

Then the host lifted his voice again, and the room tightened.

“And FIRST place,” he announced, “goes to the risotto that made our judges pause… taste again… and look up like they’d just discovered a secret.”

Ashley’s hands clenched together in front of her apron.

Her eyes were wide.

“ASHLEY!”

The applause was louder, fuller, warmer.

Ashley staggered forward like she couldn’t believe her legs still worked. When she reached the stage, she

Chapter 146 Risotto Under Fire” (Part 4)

smiled with real relief, relief that broke across her face like sunlight after rain.

Tevin stood and clapped hard. “THAT’S what I’m talking about!” he shouted. “That tastes like winning!”

Maxwell gave a small nod, rare, measured approval.

Ashley shook hands, breathing like she’d been drowning and finally hit air.

Clam

Eve clapped politely, professionally, expression calm. She didn’t lean forward. She didn’t overreact. She didn’t give the cameras anything to twist.

Mathew clapped too.

But his clapping was slow.

Deliberate.

And that strained smile stayed too tight at the edges.

A mask.

As the contestants dispersed, the host hyped the next round, teased twists, promised bigger pressure, but Ryan barely heard it.

Because he was watching Mathew.

Mathew drifted toward the side of the contestant area instead of joining the celebration. He nodded at

people, accepted brief congratulations, offered short replies like he was performing sportsmanship.

Then he leaned close to someone, one of the contestants near him, and spoke in a low voice.

Not a rant.

Not a tantrum.

Something quieter.

Careful.

Intentional.

The kind of whisper that planted a seed.

Eve stayed professional, offering neutral encouragement to everyone within reach.

When Mathew passed close enough to their section, Eve gave him the same neutral acknowledgement

she gave everyone else.

“Well done,” she said politely. “Keep your focus. Round One is only the beginning.”

Mathew’s eyes flicked to her.

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