The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 30

30 Whispers in the Kitchen

Eve’s POV

Claim

Kamila and Miter didn’t let Evelyn return to her tiny apartment above the restaurant that night. She had fainted, and her face had been pale all through the evening. So they bundled her quietly into their car and drove her home.

The Rodrigos’ house was warm in a way that the Ashbrook mansion had never been. It was cluttered with family photos, the smell of cinnamon bread drifting from the kitchen, and the faint hum of laughter that lingered even in the quiet. Kamila tucked her into the guest room with gentle hands, murmuring prayers under her breath, while Miter paced the hallway, his jaw tight.

“Sleep,” Kamila whispered, brushing Evelyn’s damp hair from her forehead. “Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

But Evelyn barely slept.

When morning came, the Rodrigos insisted she eat breakfast with them at their wooden dining table, though she had no appetite.

The television flickered in the background, the morning news anchor reading the day’s headlines. Evelyn wasn’t listening, until she heard her name.

“…in other news, the wanted announcement for Eve Reynolds Ashbrook has been pulled down after an internal review. Sources confirm that the financial discrepancy at Ashbrook Holdings has been corrected, and the company now calls the announcement a mistake. Ryan Ashbrook himself is said to have cleared the matter privately. The missing funds have been replaced, and the case has been dropped.”

Kamila clutched her hand with relief. “Gracias a Dios. Did you hear that, hija? It is over. The ad was a mistake. You are no longer branded a thief.”

But Evelyn only stared at her untouched plate, her throat thick. Relief didn’t come.

She whispered, “How do I walk into the restaurant after this? Everyone saw it. Everyone knows. They’ll dig, Kamila. They’ll find everything. My father. Ryan. Me.”

Kamila squeezed her fingers gently. “We should be grateful, child. It could have been worse. You could have been dragged away in handcuffs. Instead, it was corrected. That is a blessing.”

But Evelyn’s chest ached. Deep down, she knew her troubles weren’t over. They had only

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begun.

At the restaurant, murmurs met her like a wall.

Evelyn tied on her apron, pushing her shoulders back, determined to work as if nothing had happened. But the whispers followed her into the kitchen. She could feel them, eyes siding to her, voices dropping whenever she passed,

As she seared pork over the open flame, the smoke stung her eyes, and tears slipped down her cheeks. Her hands shook as she turned the meat, her throat tight with shame.

She had been happy here. Three months of peace, of laughter with customers, of long hours that felt fulfilling instead of suffocating. Three months where she had built something of her own. And now it felt like sand crumbling under her feet.

“Evelyn.”

She turned, Mathew, the head chef, stood behind her, his face unreadable.

“I think it is best if you remain in the kitchen whenever a customer asks to see the chef,” he said, his tone clipped. “We do not need negative publicity right now.”

Evelyn said nothing. She didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. She doubted she had the strength to face a customer today, let alone a wealthy patron who had likely seen her name flashing

across news screens.

“Understood,” she murmured, lowering her gaze.

She turned back to the pork. But a voice piped up behind her, Lesly, the young kitchen

assistant.

“Did you really take the money?” Lesly asked bluntly.

The question landed like a knife. Evelyn’s throat closed.

“And were you really married to a rich guy?” Lesly added, her tone half-gossip, half-pride at knowing the hottest secret in the kitchen.

Evelyn’s silence only encouraged her.

“Teach me, Lesly said suddenly, sídling up to her with a grin.

Evelyn blinked, startled. “Teach you what?”

Lesly smirked, helping her plate the pork as if they were conspirators. “How to catch a rich guy. How to marry one. How to make it stick.”

25

10 Whispers in the Kitchen

A bitter laugh tore out of Evelyn before she could stop it. “Do I look like it, Lesly?”

Claim

Lesly shrugged carelessly. “You got away with over a million dollars, and your hubby let you keep it. Maybe you’re slumming it for the kicks. All I’m saying is, help a girl out. You shouldn’t take offence.”

Irritation flared in Evelyn’s chest. She clenched her jaw, set down the plate too hard, and stepped away.

“I need air,” she muttered.

e pushed through the swinging door and stumbled out into the back alley of the staurant. The morning air was sharp against her cheeks, and the moment she was alone,

e tears came.

Her shoulders shook as she pressed her palms to her face. How had it all followed her here? Why couldn’t she outrun the Ashbrooks, her father, the lies? For three months, she had built a new life, and now it felt like it had all been ripped away with a single headline.

Her heart broke all over again.

Inside, the Rodrigos’ day took an unexpected turn.

Oliver Macintire arrived just after noon, tall, immaculately dressed, his expression polite but curious. He carried with him a leather folder, the investment proposal his father had promised.

“I’d like to speak to the chef responsible for last night’s meal,” Oliver said firmly when he

entered.

Matthew was

Chef Mar

eet him, his smile thin and forced. “That would be me, sir. Head

e back.”

“No, I want to meet the new chef. The one responsible for the excellence terday, We both know you had nothing to do with it.”

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