The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 40

40 The Search

Ryan’s POV

The morning had started quietly.

Too quietly.

Ryan had spent it pacing the balcony of his wing, a cup of untouched coffee cooling beside him. The city stretched beneath the Ashbrook estate like a glimmering sea, indifferent, remote. He hadn’t slept much. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Eve’s face the night she left: calm, resigned, full of something that looked too much like mercy.

He’d imagined a dozen ways to find her, news, whispers, miracles, but never this.

The sound of engines tore through the stillness.

Two black sedans rolled up the long driveway, their tinted windows glinting in the light. Ryan’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

Then he saw the men step out, uniformed officers, badges gleaming.

A cold dread coiled in his stomach.

“Mr. Ashbrook?” The lead officer, a tall man with graying hair, approached with the quiet authority of someone who’d done this too many times. “Detective Haines. We’re here regarding your wife, Mrs. Eve Ashbrook.”

Ryan’s jaw tightened. “What about her?”

“Her father filed an official missing person’s report three days ago,” the detective said evenly. “He’s alleging you might be withholding information about her whereabouts.”

Ryan’s blood ran hot. “He what?”

The detective exchanged a glance with his partner. “We’ll need to take a look around the premises, sir.”

Ryan’s first instinct was to slam the door in their faces, but reason caught up with him. The last thing he needed was to appear uncooperative..

“Fine,” he said tightly. “Do what you have to do.”

He stepped aside as the officers entered. The scent of Eve still lingered faintly in the house,

the lavender soap she used, the faint trace of cinnamon from her baking experiments, the ghost of her presence that never really left.

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<40 The Search

Now, strangers with boots and flashlights invaded that silence.

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They searched the study, the kitchen, even the guest room that had once been hers. Ryan stood in the doorway, his hands clenched. Every time they opened a drawer, every time a door creaked, it felt like an intrusion, not just of space, but of memory.

“Mr. Ashbrook,” Detective Haines said after a while, “you never filed a report about your wife leaving. Can you tell us why?”

Ryan exhaled through his nose. “Because she wasn’t missing. She left.”

“Left?”

“She wrote me a letter,” Ryan said flatly. “Said she couldn’t stay. I assumed she needed time. I thought she’d come back.”

The detective’s gaze sharpened. “May we see the letter?”

Ryan hesitated. He didn’t want their hands on it. That piece of paper was all he had left of her, her words, her handwriting, the scent of her perfume faintly pressed into the corner.

“I’ll make you a copy,” he said finally.

He retrieved the letter from the drawer in his study, carefully sliding it from the envelope as though it might crumble from touch. The detective read it quietly, eyes narrowing at certain lines.

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

When he finished, he handed it back, expression unreadable. “We’ll need to take this for

evidence.”

Ryan’s tone was ice. “No. You’ll take a copy.”

The detective met his gaze for a long moment before sighing. “Very well.”

Ryan fed the letter into the printer himself, scanning and printing it while the officers continued to roam the hallways. His pulse pounded with every sound, every step echoing through the mansion like accusation.

When the copy was done, the detective folded it neatly and slid it into an evidence folder.

“There’s also the matter of your relationship with Mr. Steven Reynolds,” he said casually, watching Ryan’s reaction.

Ryan stilled. “What about it?”

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“In the letter, Mrs. Ashbrook mentions some tension between you and her father. Can you elaborate on that?”

Ryan forced a tight smile. “Tension is putting it mildly. That man blackmailed my family into this marriage. I’ve cut off all ties with him. If you want a suspect, maybe look his way.”

The detective scribbled something in his notepad. “Are you suggesting Mr. Reynolds might have had a reason to make your wife disappear?”

Ryan’s laugh was bitter. “No. He’s not that creative. He’s just vindictive.”

Haines raised a brow. “You sound angry, Mr. Ashbrook.”

“I am angry,” Ryan snapped. “Because my father-in-law filed a false report to humiliate me publicly. Because he’s angry I stopped the checks that kept him comfortable. This isn’t about my wife, it’s about money.”

The detective closed his notebook. “Be that as it may, we still have to follow protocol. Don’t leave town until this clears up.”

Ryan’s jaw tightened. “Are we done?”

“For now.”

They left a few minutes later, their radios crackling faintly as they walked down the marble steps. When the sound of engines faded into the distance, the silence that followed was deafening.

Ryan stood in the middle of his study, staring at the letter on the desk. His hands were

trembling.

Missing person.

Suspect.

Do not leave town.

The humiliation burned.

He poured himself a drink he didn’t want and sat down heavily, staring at the amber liquid. The weight in his chest grew until he thought it might crush him.

He’d spent months trying to fix what he’d broken, searching quietly, calling in favors, avoiding attention. And now Steven had dragged it all into the light, twisted the story into something foul.

A knock came at the door.

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Tevin stood. “You sure about this, though? Once you start digging, you can’t unearth something and pretend you didn’t.”

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Ryan gave a humorless smile. “I’ve lived with secrets my whole life. Maybe it’s time to face them.”

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