The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 37

< 37 The Taste of Peace

Claim

37 The Taste of Peace

The chaos began around six.

What had started as a steady dinner rush quickly spiraled into disaster.

The orders were stacking, dishes were piling up, and angry murmurs began to echo from the dining hall. One after another, servers rushed into the kitchen with plates in hand.

“This steak’s undercooked!”

“The pasta sauce is too salty!”

“The risotto’s cold again, Chef!”

Matthew barked orders in frustration, his voice rising above the clatter of pans and plates.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. His movements were frantic, uncoordinated, far from the

precision the kitchen had become known for these past months.

Without Eve, the rhythm was gone.

She had been the silent conductor of Rodrigo’s kitchen, the heart that made the chaos flow like music. Every dish, every timing, every detail, she had balanced it all. And now that she was gone, everything fell apart.

“Move faster!” Matthew shouted at the sous-chef. “And where’s that sauce?!”

“It split again, Chef!” the man yelled back, panicked.

Lesly groaned, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Maybe if she hadn’t left us hanging, we wouldn’t be dying here.”

“Shut up and plate the damn salad!” Matthew snapped.

The door to the kitchen swung open so hard it slammed against the wall.

Miter Rodrigo stood there, his usually calm expression replaced with thunder,

“What is happening here?” he demanded.

The kitchen froze. Only the hiss of oil and the frantic hum of the fans filled the silence.

Matthew turned, forcing a strained smile. “Sir, we’re just… handling a busy evening. A few setbacks, nothing we can’t fix.”

Miter’s eyes swept the chaos. Plates piled in the sink. Half-finished orders everywhere. And

1/6

< 37 The Taste of Peace

worst of all, the servers lining up with trays of rejected meals.

“This doesn’t look like ‘a few setbacks,” he said coldly. “Where’s Evelyn?”

Claim

Matthew hesitated for a fraction of a second before shrugging. “She walked out, sir. Just up and left in the middle of prep. Said she didn’t need this job anymore, not with Oliver Macintire hanging around. Seems she found better company than ours.”

A few of the staff exchanged uneasy glances. Lesly smirked but said nothing, her hands busy re-plating a dish she’d already ruined twice.

Miter’s brows furrowed. “She what?”

“You heard me,” Matthew said quickly. “Just left. No warning, no apology. See what happens when you put your trust in random people, sir. She fooled all of us with that quiet act.”

The words stung, but they didn’t sit right.

Miter had known Eve long enough to sense truth. And that wasn’t it.

Before he could respond, one of the younger cooks, a timid girl barely out of culinary school, spoke up from the back. Her voice trembled but carried enough conviction to cut through the

noise.

“That’s not true, sir.”

Matthew spun toward her, fury in his eyes. “What did you say?”

She swallowed hard but continued. “She didn’t just walk out. You and Lesly were being cruel to her. All day. You humiliated her in front of everyone. You called her names, made her redo perfect dishes, accused her of things she didn’t do.”

Miter’s eyes snapped to Matthew. “Is this true?”

Matthew’s face flushed. “She’s exaggerating.”

But the girl wasn’t finished. “She told you to do your job, Chef, that she wouldn’t tolerate the insults anymore. Then she left because you wouldn’t stop.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Miter looked at Matthew for a long moment, disappointment heavy in his gaze. “See how your genius cooking has helped our kitchen.” His tone dripped with irony,

He gestured toward the mess around them. “When it was just you, this restaurant was barely getting by. Evelyn came here and changed everything, our menu, our reputation, our profits. People lined up for her food. She made us a name. And you still found a way to hate her for

2/6

<37 The Taste of Peace

it.”

Claim

Matthew clenched his fists. “She undermines me. You gave her too much power. Everyone worships her, and she,”

“, earned it,” Miter cut him off sharply. “And you? You tried to destroy it.”

Lesly huffed. “Oh, please. You’re all acting like she’s some saint. She’s just good at playing innocent and cooking fancy food.”

Miter turned to her, his voice calm but final. “You can save that attitude for someone else’s

kitchen. Both of you, pack up your things. You’re done here.”

Lesly’s eyes widened. “You’re firing us?”

“Effective immediately,” Miter said. “And before either of you think to make a scene, remember that I don’t tolerate disrespect under my roof.”

Matthew’s lips curled into a bitter sneer. “You’ll regret this, Rodrigo. You think you know that woman, but you don’t. She’s a fraud. A fugitive. The moment the police find out you’re harboring her, your precious restaurant will burn with her.”

Miter’s expression didn’t change. “Go ahead and report me then.”

That stunned Matthew. “What?”

Miter folded his arms. “Do it. But I hope you enjoy making a fool of yourself. Because the case against Evelyn Ashbrook was dropped days ago. Officially cleared. You might want to read the news before you try to use it as blackmail.”

Matthew’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.

“Now leave,” Miter said, his voice like steel. “Both of you. And don’t step foot in my kitchen again.”

Lesly stormed off first, muttering curses under her breath. Matthew lingered, glaring at Miter one last time before slamming his knife down on the counter and stalking out.

The moment they were gone, the air shifted.

Miter exhaled slowly, then called Kamila. “Mi amor, I need you in the kitchen. Bring your apron.”

By the time Eve returned that evening, the storm had passed, but the exhaustion hadn’t.

She hesitated at the entrance, expecting another cold reception. Instead, she heard laughter. The familiar sound of sizzling pans.

3/6

<37 The Taste of Peace

When she stepped inside, she froze.

Kamila stood behind the stove, hair tied back, flipping a pan with practiced ease.

“Kamila?” Eve breathed.

Kamila turned, smiling warmly. “Ah, there you are, hija. We were just talking about you.”

Eve blinked in disbelief. “What… happened?”

Miter appeared from the office, wiping his hands. “Matthew and Lesly happened. But not anymore. They’re gone.”

Her mouth fell open. “Gone?”

Claim

“Fired,” Kamila said cheerfully, stirring a pot. “You should’ve seen your father’s face when he

did it.”

Eve was too stunned to speak. “You fired them… because of me?”

Miter shook his head. “I fired them because they were destroying what you built. And because no one, no one, should talk to my daughter that way.”

Emotion swelled in Eve’s chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing,” Kamila said softly. “You needed to stand up for yourself. I’m proud of you for doing it.”

Eve smiled faintly, tears threatening but not falling. “I didn’t mean to cause chaos.”

Kamila chuckled. “Chaos is part of any good kitchen. Now, are you going to stand there looking guilty, or are you going to help me save dinner?”

That was all Eve needed to hear.

She tied her apron, rolled up her sleeves, and stepped behind the stove. Together, she and Kamila moved in perfect rhythm, one stirring, one plating, both working like they’d done it for

years.

By the time the last order went out, the restaurant was calm again. Customers were laughing, satisfied, oblivious to the storm that had raged behind the scenes.

Miter stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching the two women with quiet pride.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify