The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 15

15 The Letter He Never Expected

15 The Letter He Never Expected

Ryan’s POV

Ryan didn’t wake until noon.

+25 Points

The world came back to him slowly, a dry mouth, a dull throb pressing behind his temples, the heaviness of limbs weighed down by last night’s alcohol. For a long moment, he didn’t move. His eyes blinked open, lashes dragging, the ceiling above him blurred by sluggish haze.

The couch groc

under his weight as he pushed himself upright. His shirt clung damp to his chest, wrinkled from the night before. His neck ached from sleeping at the wrong angle. He rubbed the back of it hard, trying to massage away the stiffness. His mind moved slower than his body, fragments drifting in pieces until they came together like broken glass.

Eve.

He remembered her robe slipping down her shoulders. The sound of her soft moans breaking in his ear. The way she let him hold her afterward, her body warm against his. She had stayed. For once, he hadn’t walked away.

But now she was gone.

The cushions beside him were empty, the faint scent of her lingering like an echo. He told himself it wasn’t strange. They had never shared a bed. Not really. Not in three years.

Still, something pressed against his chest as he stood.

He peeled the damp shirt off his skin and tossed it aside, padding barefoot into the kitchen. The silence of the house was sharp, almost too sharp. Usually, there were subtle sounds to mark her presence, the scrape of a chair being tucked in, the sweep of a broom against tile, the quiet hum of her voice when she thought he wasn’t listening.

But today, nothing.

On the island, a plate sat neatly wrapped. A note was taped to the top, her handwriting familiar and

precise.

Reheat me.

That was all.

Ryan stared at it for a long moment. A soft chuckle escaped him, the sound thin and bitter. “Of

course,” he muttered. Of course she had made breakfast. Of course she had thought ahead, cared, even after last night.

He tore the foil back, staring at the food. Bacon, eggs, toast, still warm, prepared with the same quiet precision she gave to everything. He picked up a strip of bacon, chewed slowly. Ate the rest.

။

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15 The Letter He Never Expected

The eggs he slid into the fridge, the plate back into place with mechanical neatness.

His chest tightened, though he told himself it was nothing.

Today was their anniversary. Three years.

+25 Points

Three years of cold silences, locked doors, unspoken bitterness. And yet, despite everything, he couldn’t let her go.

A week ago, sitting at Fernando’s with Tevin, grease on his fingers and laughter around the table, he had tried to explain. He had talked about Eve, about her father, about the mess their lives had become.

“Then just kick her out, bro,” Tevin had said casually sipping his drink. “End it. You hate her, don’t you?”

Ryan hadn’t answered. He hadn’t needed to. His silence had said everything.

He didn’t hate her. He couldn’t. And that terrified him more than anything else.

Today, he had made a decision. He would change things. Maybe take her out, just the two of them, away from the weight of their families. Maybe to the coast, maybe to the pier they used to talk about before the blackmail and wedding. Small steps. A start.

It wouldn’t fix everything, but it could begin something.

Ryan left the kitchen, his steps carrying him down the hall toward her room. He rehearsed the words in his head, awkward, foreign. He hadn’t asked her for anything in three years, hadn’t tried to give her anything either. But today, he would.

He opened the door.

The air inside was still. Cold. Too clean.

The room was bare.

No sweater folded on the chair. No perfume bottle on the vanity. No earrings left carelessly by the lamp. The closet doors stood open, hangers empty. The drawers vacant.

His breath caught. His chest tightened.

He stepped back, blinking, willing the sight to shift into something else. No. Maybe she had moved

things. Maybe she was tidying. But something deep in his gut knew better.

He pulled out his phone, dialed her number.

‘The number you have dialed is not reachable at the moment. Please try again later.’

Again.

The same message.

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<15 The Letter He Never Expected

Again.

The same.

His hand dropped to his side.

+25 Points

He turned back to the room, seeing it now for what it was. She hadn’t just packed a bag. She had cleared out. Completely.

No trace of her remained.

Ryan’s pulse roared in his ears as he walked upstairs, steps slower now, heavier. Maybe she had moved her things to another room. Maybe she was upstairs in his room, right now, cleaning, waiting, humming.

Maybe.

But when he pushed open the door to the master bedroom, the truth hit like a blade.

The bed was made. Pillows fluffed. Windows cracked open to let in the crisp afternoon air. The room was spotless. Fresh. Too fresh.

And on the nightstand, waiting like an executioner’s verdict, lay a manila envelope.

Beside it: her wedding band. Her engagement ring. The bank card he had given her months ago, unused. Untouched.

His throat tightened. His chest burned.

On top of the envelope lay a letter, folded neatly, his name written in her handwriting.

Dear Ryan…

He sat on the edge of the bed, the letter trembling in his hands. For a moment, he couldn’t open it. Couldn’t face what waited inside.

But he had to.

He unfolded the page and read.

“By the time you read this, I’ll be gone.

Maybe that’s a relief for you. Maybe it’s the first real gift I’ve ever given you. Either way, on what would have been our third anniversary, I’m giving you the only thing I have left to offer, your freedom.

Thank you, for everything. For the years of quiet patience. You bore the situation with more grace than I had any right to expect. Another man might’ve broken. But you didn’t. That strength, that quiet integrity, those are the things I’ve always admired most in you.

And yet, I know I was a constant reminder of something you never asked for. My father forced this

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+25 Points

arrangement on you, and in doing so, he shattered something in you that I could never piece back together. Whether I meant to or not, I became part of that damage. I carry that with me.

I stayed because of my grandmother. Her health was failing, and I thought I was doing the right thing. Maybe I lied to myself, thinking I could earn your love over time. Maybe a part of me hoped that if I was kind enough, quiet enough, good enough… you’d look at me one day and feel something real.

But I saw you last week at Fernando’s. Laughing.

You looked happy Ryan. Really happy. And for the first time in a long while, I saw the man you used to be, the man the world hadn’t worn down. That laugh wasn’t meant for me. But it reminded me of everything you’re still capable of feeling. And everything I’m keeping you from.

You deserve joy. Not guilt. Not silence. Not this slow, aching compromise we’ve been calling a life. Not the toxic existence we’ve been trapped in.

I’ve come to accept something hard: you will never love me, not the way I love you. And staying would be cruel. To you. To myself. To whatever good is left between us. Watching you live in a house filled with unspoken things, haunted by a life you never chose, it’s unbearable now.

You’ve spent too long trying to honour a commitment that only ever brought pain.

You don’t have to anymore.

I want to be clear, I never took you for granted. I loved you in the only way I knew how. I tried. God

knows I tried. But love shouldn’t have to fight this hard just to breathe.

So this is me, stepping aside so you can live fully. Boldly. Without guilt. Without the weight of me.

Luan is still single. I know how much you once cared for her. Maybe you still do. She’s kind, and she makes you smile in ways I never could. If there’s any part of you that wants to revisit that chapter, don’t hold back. I think you’d make something beautiful together, something honest and whole.

Maybe even a family. The kind we never got to have

Don’t worry about a scandal. I’m leaving town quietly. You won’t hear from me again.

This is my gift to you, Ryan.

Live well. Love deeply. And whatever you do, don’t look back with regret.

–

– Eve”

Each word struck him like a blow. The steadiness of her voice bled through every line, soft and resigned, but final.

She had gone.

She had given him freedom, the very thing he had claimed to want.

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15 The Letter He Never Expected

And it hollowed him out.

He let out a sound, part groan, part cry, his chest heaving, vision blurred. He crumpled the letter in his hands and pressed his fists to his forehead, trying to steady the storm tearing through him.

She had seen him at Fernando’s. She had seen him laughing, happy, alive in a way she hadn’t witnessed in years. And she had taken that as her answer. That he was better off without her.

God.

Ryan’s body trembled. His lungs burned. His mind spiraled with everything he hadn’t said, everything hen’t done.

He stood suddenly, knees unsteady, knocking the nightstand with his leg. The rings toppled, clinking against the floor. The card slid down beside them. He didn’t pick them up.

With shaking hands, he ripped open the manila envelope.

Divorce papers.

Signed.

A clean break. No spousal support. No demands. No last name. Nothing. She wanted nothing from him. Nothing but distance.

Tucked inside was a smaller note.

‘You can have your lawyer file it. Thank you for everything.’

His knees gave. He sank back down on the bed like a man undone. His pulse roared in his ears, his

breath harsh.

She had let go.

But he hadn’t.

Not yet. Not ever.

His mouth opened on a scream, guttural, raw, torn from a place he hadn’t known existed. It rattled through the empty house, filling every corner with grief.

And just as the sound tore out of him, another voice sliced through the silence downstairs.

Shrill. Cold.

“Eve! Where are you? Where is that gold-digging bitch?”

Ryan froze.

His mother.

Leah Ashbrook.

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