The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63, The First Step Back

Ryan’s POV.

Ryan sat there long after the words had faded, the soft hum of the air conditioner filling the

silence between them.

The sunlight had moved across the room, spilling gold on the marble floor and painting Eve’s hair in copper tones. She looked fragile yet unbreakable, like glass that had survived fire.

For the first time in years, his mind wasn’t full of anger, suspicion, or the endless noise of strategy and control. It was full of her voice, soft, trembling, yet steady as she told him the

truth.

Their baby.

His child.

He still couldn’t believe it.

He swallowed hard and turned to her, watching her thumb trace the rim of her glass absently.

“Eve,” he said quietly.

She looked up, eyes cautious but not cold.

“Tell me about Westwood,” he said. “About the people you stayed with. I don’t know anything

about that time.”

For a second, she hesitated, as though unsure if he really wanted to hear it. Then her expression softened.

“The Rodrigos,” she said, and a small smile touched her lips, the kind he hadn’t seen in years. “Camila and Mitre. They owned a restaurant on 4th Street, Rodrigos. I walked past it every day when I first got there, looking for jobs.”

He stayed silent, listening, drinking in the sound of her voice.

“I was desperate,” she continued, “I didn’t have much. My savings were fading fast. Most places wouldn’t hire me once they realized I didn’t have references from around there. I almost gave up, but then I went into Rodrigos one afternoon just to ask if they needed help cleaning tables.”

Her laugh was small but real. “Mitre looked me over and said, ‘You can hold a knife, can’t you?’ I said yes, and he told me to follow him. That was my interview.”

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Ryan smiled faintly, unable to picture her, his elegant, quietly proud Eve, in a busy kitchen with grease on her apron and music blaring.

“I started as prep staff,” she said. “Chopping onions, washing lettuce, sometimes running errands for the suppliers. But Camila was kind. She taught me their recipes, trusted me with small things. Within a few months, I became her sous chef.”

Her voice carried a warmth that made his chest ache.

“I lived in the apartment above the restaurant. Small, but it had a skylight. When it rained, I’d sit by the window and listen. It felt… peaceful. For the first time, I wasn’t Mrs. Ashbrook. I was just Eve.”

Ryan’s throat tightened. He could see it, the woman he’d hurt rebuilding herself piece by piece in a tiny apartment that smelled of garlic and rain.

She smiled softly, eyes far away. “Camila started posting our dishes online. Food bloggers came, then small magazines. People liked what we made. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt like

home.”

He was quiet for a long time, then whispered, “You found a family there.”

She looked at him, startled, then nodded slowly. “Yes. They were good to me. They adopted me. They didn’t ask questions.”

He reached out, his hand closing gently around hers. “I’m glad someone was.”

Her fingers trembled under his touch, but she didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. The words came out rough, unpolished. “For everything. For how I treated you. For not seeing you when you needed me to.”

She didn’t respond immediately, just looked at him with eyes that glimmered like wet glass. He could see her fighting not to cry, fighting not to believe too quickly.

He leaned closer. “Did you ever… miss me?”

She blinked, caught off guard,

He regretted the question the moment it left his mouth. It was selfish. Childish. But he

needed to know.

She looked away, biting her lip. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then her

shoulders trembled.

“Every day,” she whispered. “I missed you every day. And the thought that you hated me, that

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you hated everything I stood for, gutted me every single time.”

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Her voice cracked on the last word, and tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them.

Ryan’s heart clenched. He reached for her and pulled her against him, his arms wrapping around her tightly. She didn’t resist. Her sobs came quiet and raw, the kind that shake the soul.

“I’m sorry, Eve,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m sorry for all of it. I lashed out at the wrong person. I blamed you for things that weren’t your fault. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

She shook her head slightly, her breath uneven against his chest.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “But I swear to you, I’ll spend every day making it right. I’ll be by your side. Yours and our baby’s. I’ll protect you both, always.”

He said it with such conviction that for a moment, she forgot to breathe. But she didn’t answer, didn’t promise him anything in return. And that silence terrified him.

He felt it in his bones, the distance still between them.

Maybe it wasn’t too late, but he knew he was on borrowed time.

He couldn’t lose her again. Not now. Not when he finally understood what it meant to love

her.

He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “I’ll fight for you, Eve. For us. No matter what

it takes.”

She closed her eyes but didn’t pull away.

Minutes passed. The light outside dimmed to soft amber, and the world seemed to narrow to the rhythm of their breathing.

Then, quietly, she said, “I didn’t steal your money, Ryan.”

He froze, lifting his head.

“I know people said I did,” she continued, her voice steady but low. “I know my father’s behaviour made it look that way. But I didn’t take anything from you. Not a dime.”

Ryan exhaled slowly. “I know,” he said.

Her eyes widened slightly. “You do?”

He nodded. “I knew it was a lie the moment I saw the transaction. It didn’t fit. You never

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cared about money. You cared about dignity.”

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His jaw tightened. “Someone used that rumor to poison everything between us. That’s on me. But I’ll find out who really moved that money, Eve. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Her lips parted in surprise, but she said nothing. Only her hand tightened around his, grateful and unsure all at once.

He leaned back on the couch, drawing her with him until her head rested on his chest. His fingers traced lazy circles on her arm, grounding himself in her warmth.

She was still tense beneath his touch, still guarded. He could feel it in the way her breaths came shallow, in the slight stiffness of her posture. But she didn’t move away. That was

enough for now.

He knew he had a mountain to climb to earn her trust again. He would have to rebuild everything he’d shattered.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the faint scent of vanilla and soap in her hair. Don’t lose this again, he told himself. Don’t ruin this again.

For the first time in years, he felt peace, not because everything was fixed, but because for once, he had stopped lying to himself. Stopped being angry. Stopped feeling miserable. He had accepted her and his love for her.

Then his phone buzzed on the coffee table, shattering the fragile quiet.

Ryan frowned, reaching for it. Kimberly’s name flashed across the screen.

He hesitated. Kimberly never called unless she wanted something.

He answered. “Kim?”

Her voice came through panicked and shaky. “Ryan, thank God you picked up. I, there’s been

an accident, I… I hit someone,”

He shot up straight, “What?”

“I didn’t see him! He ran across the road, and now people are gathering, they’re yelling, Ryan, please, I don’t know what to do!”

Eve sat up immediately, eyes wide with alarm.

“Where are you?” he demanded, already grabbing his keys.

“Near the old Maple Junction,” Kimberly said between gasps. “Please come. They’re threatening to call the police.”

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