The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 83

83 A Goodbye Wrapped in Warmth

25 Pointe

Morning came softly, slipping through the thin curtains of the Rodrigos’ guestroom in pale gold streaks. Eve woke to the muted clatter of pots and pans downstairs, the comforting murmur of voices, and the

smell of fresh bread toasting. For a moment, she simply lay there, listening, breathing, letting the

sweetness of this borrowed peace soak into her bones.

It felt like a dream.

A fragile one.

The kind you don’t dare move too fast in, for fear it might shatter.

Ryan was still asleep beside her, one arm draped loosely across her waist. His breathing was steady, warm

against the back of her neck. He looked softer in sleep, younger, gentler, untouched by the weight that usually carved shadows across his features. Seeing him like this always stirred something in her chest. A

mix of longing and gratitude and an ache she couldn’t name.

She didn’t want to wake him.

She didn’t want this morning to end.

Not when Bexlin loomed ahead of them like a storm cloud she’d been trying to outrun all her life.

But the scent of food drifted stronger, and a faint knock came at the door.

“Breakfast is ready,” Camila called, her voice bright and affectionate in the way Eve had missed.

Eve slid carefully out of bed, leaving Ryan to stir awake on his own. She washed her face slowly, studying her reflection. She didn’t look like the girl who once lived in a cramped apartment above a restaurant. She didn’t even look like the woman who left Bexlin months ago with a broken heart and empty hands.

This Eve had lived.

Loved.

Lost.

Learned.

And somehow survived all of it.

She dressed quietly, brushed her hair, straightened her clothes, each mundane action steadying her, before she finally stepped out.

Downstairs, the Rodrigos’ kitchen was warm, chaotic in the best way, as always. Camila bustling about with her apron crooked, plates clattering, the stove hissing with a pot of something aromatic.

Miter sat at the head of the long wooden table, reading glasses perched on his nose as he sliced bread lopsidedly, muttering under his breath about “children who don’t know how to sharpen knives.”

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83 A Goodbye Wrapped in Warmth

When they saw Eve, they both beamed.

“You slept well?” Camila asked, already pulling out a chair for her.

“Very well,” Eve replied, and she meant it.

It wasn’t the softness of the mattress or the quiet of the night.

It was belonging.

Something she hadn’t tasted in far too long.

+75 Points

Ryan joined a few minutes later, his hair still mussed from sleep, a detail that Camila found charming

enough to comment on, making Eve’s cheeks warm in a way she hated and secretly loved.

Breakfast was simple, fresh bread, sautéed greens, grilled fish, eggs fried in a way only Camila could manage, and yet bittersweet hovered beneath every flavour.

Camila was the first to break.

“You’re really leaving today?” she asked, her voice wobbling at the edge.

Eve’s chest tightened. “We have to. There’s a lot waiting for us in Bexlin.”

“Visit often,” Camila whispered, placing a hand over Eve’s. “Please.”

Eve squeezed gently. “We will.”

But her promise felt like a thin thread drifting in a storm.

Bexlin swallowed people whole.

It didn’t release them easily.

Ryan must have sensed the heaviness settling over the table. He cleared his throat and offered the Rodrigos a reassuring smile.

“You can visit us in Bexli anytime,” he said.

Miter exhaled, not convinced. “We doubt that would be possible.”

Ryan frowned. “Why?”

Miter hesitated, then gestured loosely at the kitchen. “We don’t have a chef yet. The woman who applied didn’t work out. Camila here has been carrying everything alone.”

Camila shot him a warning look, embarrassment, pride, exhaustion all tangled together, but Miter pushed

“We’re short-staffed. If we leave, even for a day, the place falls apart.”

Eve saw it then, truly saw it.

Camila’s swollen knuckles, the faint circles under her eyes, the stiffness in her movements. She had been

83 A Goodbye Wrapped in Warmth

overworking herself since she left. Eve had known, once, how heavy that felt.

Ryan’s brows drew together in concern.

“I can send a professional chef to help,” he said firmly. “Someone fully trained. Someone reliable.”

Camila froze mid-step.

Miter blinked like Ryan had suddenly started speaking a foreign language.

+25 Points

“That’s… generous,” Miter said slowly. “Too generous. But we just recovered from the last financial mess. Thanks to the ten million Eve gave us.”

Eve felt heat rise to her face. She had never given them that money expecting recognition. In fact, she’d preferred the opposite, to be unseen. Invisible help made her feel safer.

Miter continued, his voice thickening with sincerity. “We always knew she wasn’t being paid her worth. She was practically running half the kitchen. But she never complained. We were grateful she stayed as long as

she did.”

Eve’s eyes prickled, and she lowered her gaze.

Ryan chuckled lightly, as if the problem was already solved.

“Let me take care of it,” he said. “I’ll cover the chef’s salary and allowance.”

Camila dropped a spoon. Miter straightened in shock.

“That’s too much!” he protested. “We cannot accept that kind of burden from you.”

Eve reached across the table, placing her hand gently on Miter’s. “Please. You need help. Camila can’t keep doing everything alone. It’ll take a toll on her.”

Camila tried to wave her off, but her hands trembled slightly, just enough for Eve to see.

“You helped me,” Eve whispered. “You fed me when I had nothing. Let us do this for you.”

There was a pause.

A long, heavy one.

Then, slowly, reluctantly, Miter nodded. “If… if you insist.”

Ryan smiled softly. “Good. I’ll have my assistant personally handle the arrangements.”

That broke some of the heaviness, Breakfast ended with lighter chatter, stories from the restaurant, updates on neighbours, gossip about customers who still remembered Eve and swore her food had been

the best the place ever served.

But beneath it all, Eve felt the ticking of time.

Each laugh tasted like goodbye.

When it was finally time to leave, the Rodrigos insisted on sending packs of delicacies, smoked fish,

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