The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 170

170 The Call

The house had finally learned how to be quiet again.

Not the old kind of quiet that used to swallow Eve whole, the kind Ryan had curated for years, polished and sterile and cold. This new quiet had different weight. It held the residue of laughter from the kitchen, the faint scent of tea Camila had brewed before she left, the soft rhythm of Eve’s breathing behind a closed bedroom door.

Eve was asleep.

Ryan could tell because the whole wing felt different when she was awake, like the air had opinions. When she slept, the house settled. The silence stopped sounding like accusation and started sounding like a

pause.

Ryan stood in the corridor outside their room, phone in his hand, staring at nothing.

He didn’t trust pauses anymore.

Pauses were where people planned.

The cooking contest had ended and somehow the world had moved on like scandal was entertainment

you could switch off. Mathew had apologised on camera with a smile too clean. Steven had stormed into the house like he still owned his daughter’s life. Then Alissa, Steven’s fiancée, had dropped a sentence

into Eve’s hands like a blade wrapped in silk.

Dismissed. Paid nothing. A heinous crime. Leah covering it up.

Those words didn’t sit quietly in Ryan’s mind. They prowled.

Ryan walked into the study and shut the door with controlled gentleness. He didn’t want to wake Eve. He didn’t want her body to learn panic again because of a slammed door.

The desk lamp cast a small pool of light across scattered papers, nothing dramatic, just the mess of a

man who had too many threads to pull and not enough time to pull them carefully.

Ryan loosened his tie, then stopped, leaving it hanging around his collar like he couldn’t commit to rest. He hadn’t taken off his watch either. He’d never liked taking it off. It made him feel unarmed.

He checked his phone again.

No new messages.

No updates.

Still, his mind kept assembling scenarios like a machine that couldn’t switch itself off.

Steven’s rage had been expected. Steven lived on rage. But rage didn’t explain the panic under his eyes when he mentioned Eve’s mother. It didn’t explain the way his pride cracked when Mitre asked where he

had been while Eve was alone.

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170 The Call

And Alissa’s disgust, immediate, visceral, when Leah and Jonathan’s names came up.

Ryan had seen disgust in boardrooms. He’d watched investors grimace at risk. He’d watched lawyers

react to certain words because they knew what they meant.

Alissa’s reaction hadn’t been performative.

It had been instinct.

Ryan sat, leaned his elbows on the desk, and stared at the dark window. His reflection stared back, sharp edges, controlled face, a man who didn’t look like he could be surprised by anything.

He’d built that face.

He’d built it because softness invited exploitation.

And yet, he’d allowed softness into his house lately.

Not through sentiment. Through Eve.

Through the way she moved carefully even in safety, like she didn’t quite believe the floor would hold her.

Ryan’s jaw tightened.

Calm meant someone was plotting.

The house stayed silent.

Then his phone rang.

The sound cut through the stillness like a knife.

Ryan didn’t jump. He didn’t flinch. He simply looked down.

STEVEN REYNOLDS.

For a second, Ryan considered not answering.

Not because he feared Steven.

Because answering meant letting Steven’s chaos enter the room again.

Because Steven never called without needing something. Steven never reached out unless he wanted to

pull someone else into his mess.

Ryan stared at the screen as it rang again, longer this time, more insistent.

He exhaled slowly and answered.

“Steven,” he said.

He expected anger.

He expected manipulation.

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10 The Call

He expected Steven to come in hot, demanding Ryan fix something he’d broken, because that was Steven’s favourite kind of power, creating fire, then forcing someone else to carry the water.

Instead, he heard breathing.

Hard breathing. Uneven.

For a moment, Steven didn’t speak at all. Just breathed into the line like he’d been running.

Ryan’s stomach dropped.

“Where is she?” Steven’s voice finally came through, strained and rough.

Ryan frowned. “What are you talking about.”

“My fiancée,” Steven snapped, then the snap cracked halfway into panic. “Alissa. She hasn’t come home.”

Ryan went still.

He didn’t let his voice change. “When was the last time you saw her.”

Steven made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh and wasn’t quite a sob. “This morning. She left. She said

she was going out.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “What time.”

Steven’s breathing hitched. “Around, around eleven. She said she’d be back by one, maybe two.”

“And she wasn’t,” Ryan said, controlled.

“No,” Steven said, voice rising. “No, she wasn’t, and her phone, her phone is ringing and ringing and she’s

not picking up.”

Ryan’s mind shifted into precision.

“What was she wearing.”

Steven choked out an answer. “A cream coat. Jeans. She, she had her bag, and she said she was just

going to,”

“Stop,” Ryan cut in. “Where did she say she was going.”

Steven’s voice shook. “She didn’t tell me exactly. She said she was meeting someone.”

Ryan’s jaw tightened. “Who.”

“I don’t know!” Steven’s voice rose, frantic now. “I don’t know, Ryan, and I’ve called everyone she knows,

and nobody has seen her.”

Ryan stood up slowly, hand tightening around the phone.

“Have you gone to the places she usually goes,” Ryan asked. “Her favourite café. The lake. The gym.”

Steven’s breath scraped. “Yes. Yes, I went. I drove like a madman. I checked her office. She never showed.

SO The Call

I checked the lake and there was nothing. Nothing.”

Ryan moved across the study, turned on the lamp near the filing cabinet, and opened a drawer without

thinking. His hand passed over documents he didn’t need, old habits trying to translate panic into

organisation.

“Any messages,” Ryan asked. “Any threats. Anything unusual in the past week.”

Steven’s voice cracked. “No. Nothing. She was fine. She was fine, and then she’s just,”

He stopped, breathing hard.

Ryan’s throat went tight with a cold kind of recognition.

People didn’t just vanish without leaving debris unless someone wanted them to vanish.

“Steven,” Ryan said, voice low. “Listen to me. Did you check her bank activity.”

Steven sounded offended and desperate at once. “I don’t have access to her,

“Then call her bank,” Ryan said. “Now. Tell them she’s missing. Ask for last transaction locations. Ask if her

card was used in the last four hours.”

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