The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 74

CHAPTER 74 The Return to Rodrigo’s

Westwood felt different the moment Eve stepped out of the car. The air here was warmer, sunnier in a way that had nothing to do with weather. The streets buzzed, but not in the frantic, sharp-edged way of Bexlin. Here, laughter rolled more freely. The sidewalks carried the faint scent of grilled peppers and roasted corn from street vendors. Children ran without fear of scuffing polished marble floors. Life lived here.

Ryan stepped out beside her, sunglasses on, hands in his pockets, but his eyes flicked everywhere, to storefronts, to locals who paused to look at him, to Eve herself. He wasn’t used to being in a place where his name meant nothing, where people didn’t scramble to bow or impress, but he found it calming. Liberating in a way he didn’t know he needed.

Eve’s breath hitched when she saw the familiar brick building tucked between the florist and the corner market. The green vines still curled along the wall, full and stubborn. The sign, Rod rigo’s Fine Fusion, was just as she remembered, paint chipped in the same places. It looked like home.

Her eyes stung.

Ryan noticed.

He didn’t say a word.

Just placed his hand gently against the small of her back.

They walked in.

The warm scent hit instantly, garlic butter, smoked chili, oregano simmering low. The restaurant was in its prep hour, calm but alive: pans being seasoned, stock reducing, knives chopping. A few tables were occupied by locals sipping coffee or late lunch. A vase of lilies sat at the front counter. Everything felt exactly as she left it.

“EVELYN?!” a voice gasped, sharp, excited.

Eve barely had time to turn before Tiff practically launched across the counter and wrapped her in a hug.

“Dios mío, niña, you’re back! Look at you, look at you!” she squealed, pulling back to hold Eve by the shoulders. Then her eyes dropped to Eve’s belly. “Oh… oh.” Her eyes softened. “So it’s true.”

Eve smiled, small and real. “Sí… it’s true.”

Then Tiff noticed Ryan.

Her jaw dropped.

“Oh hell.” She whispered it like she just saw a marble sculpture come to life.

Eve tried not to laugh.

“Tiff, this is my husband, Ryan.”

Tiff’s eyes widened even more.

“Girl. He is HOT.”

Ryan coughed.

Eve covered her face.

They both started laughing.

Tiff dramatically fanned herself.

“No wonder you disappeared. Dios mío. Had I known, I’d have helped you run faster, just so you could come back and explain all of this to me!”

She leaned toward Ryan, whisper-yelling:

“If you hurt her again, I will poison your soup. I say this with love.”

Ryan raised both hands.

“I… believe you.”

Tiff clapped to herself, delighted.

“Come come, I’ll give you the best seat in the place. Camila and Mitre are in the kitchen. They haven’t found anyone who could replace you, so they’ve been sulking for months.”

Eve’s heart squeezed painfully,

She gave Ryan a look,

He nodded.

Go to them.

So she did.

The kitchen door swung open,

And Camila froze mid-stir.

For a heartbeat, everything stopped.

Then:

“MI HIJA.”

Camila dropped the spoon and rushed forward, arms flung open.

Eve didn’t walk.

She fell into her.

The kind of embrace that presses bones together.

That reminds you what safety feels like.

What love is supposed to feel like. Camila cupped the back of Eve’s head and rocked her gently like she used to whenever Eve broke down quietly in the pantry during her first months here.

“Dios mío… mi corazón… you came home…” Camila whispered.

Eve’s throat closed.

She could only nod.

Then Mitre turned, and his expression was not gentle.

He approached slowly, hands on his hips, eyebrows tight, lips pressed.

“Tell us the truth, hija.”

Eve laughed softly, wet, fragile.

“I promise… things are different now. We’re trying.”

Mitre did not look convinced.

Before she could say more, a presence filled the doorway behind her.

Ryan.

Tall. Quiet. Controlled. Polite, but unmistakably powerful.

Camila straightened, suddenly unsure.

Mitre narrowed his eyes, not hostile, not fearful, just measuring.

Ryan stepped forward, voice smooth. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Rodrigo. I believe we’re family, since your adopted daughter is my wife.”

Camila blinked.

Then she blushed.

Just a little.

Mitre snorted.

“So you finally show your face.”

Not a question. Not friendly.

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