The Billionaire's Silent Wife (Ryan and Eve) novel Chapter 98

Chapter 98 A House That Finally Felt Like Hers

The house was unusually quiet.

Not the hollow, echoing kind of quiet that had once made Eve feel like an intruder wandering through a

museum of other people’s memories. Not the brittle and cold kind of quiet that used to stretch between

the walls like tension, making even her footsteps feel unwelcome. And not the unnerving kind of quiet that

came when she feared she might do something wrong, something that would set Ryan off, or embarrass

his family, or prove to the world that the scandal-tainted wife did not belong here.

No.

Today’s quiet was different.

It was soft. Warm. Gentle in a way that wrapped around her like a light blanket. A quiet that soothed

instead of stung. A quiet that settled into her bones with a strange, almost surreal sense of peace, as

though the house itself had finally unclenched and allowed her to breathe freely inside it.

By midday, she had completed her chores. She’d swept the kitchen floor and wiped down the surfaces until the granite countertops gleamed. She’d folded the clothes Ryan washed the night before, smoothing out the hems of his shirts the way he liked. She’d organised the living room, aligning the throw pillows in the exact order Ryan always teased her for obsessing over. Then she’d opened the windows to let in the

subtle midday breeze.

Fresh sheets and fabric softener drifted faintly down the hallway, mixing with the delicate trace of Ryan’s cologne that still clung to the stairway banister. There were whispers of citrus and cedarwood, warm and masculine, scents that lived quietly in the corners of the home, reminding her he existed here, too, even when he wasn’t physically standing beside her.

She walked around the living room one last time, ensuring everything was in its place, before finally allowing herself to sink into the plush grey sofa. She reached for the remote and clicked the television on, letting the soft background chatter settle into the room.

For a long moment, she stared at the screen without truly watching it.

And then… she realised something.

For the first time since stepping into this house, this mansion with its intimidating architecture, its

expensive art pieces, its high ceilings and intimidating lineage,

she felt relaxed.

Not wary.

Not intimidated.

Not trapped.

Not like she was on borrowed time.

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Chapter 98 A House That Finally Felt Like Hers

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to gossip, to the past she was still shaking off. It was too public. Too exposed. Too close to judgmental

eyes.

And now… she wasn’t just Eve.

She was Eve Ashbrook carrying his child.

The thought sent a warm flutter through her chest.

Maybe… maybe it was time to start her own restaurant instead.

Her heart skipped.

Her own place.

A dream she had tucked away long ago, one she once believed belonged to people with cleaner histories

and deeper pockets.

She used to picture herself running something small and intimate. A cosy space with warm lighting, wooden counters, and the smell of grilled herbs wafting from the kitchen. A place where she could create,

nurture, and flourish.

But how did she tell Ryan that dream aloud?

The excitement fluttered… then dimmed.

Her father’s shadow still loomed over her name like a stain. His extortion of the Ashbrooks had cost her

more than respect, it had cost her her confidence. Her freedom to speak. Her courage to dream openly.

How could she bring up something as bold as starting her own restaurant when her father kept taking from the same family she had married into?

How did she ask Ryan to invest in her dreams when she had only recently escaped another accusation, forged signatures, missing money, lies that nearly destroyed her?

She exhaled, slow and steady.

No.

She wouldn’t bring it up.

Not yet.

Not unless Ryan offered.

Not unless he made the first move.

Not because she lacked faith in him, but because she didn’t want to burden him with choosing between

supporting her and carrying the weight of his family’s wounds.

For now, she would wait.

She curled deeper into the sofa, letting herself drift into a daydream, a safe, harmless one. She imagined a

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Chapter 98 A House That Finally Felt Like Hers

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place called Eve’s Table. Warm lighting. Wooden counters. The smell of roasted garlic. Customers

laughing and eating happily. A little haven where she could lose herself in something she loved.

The fantasy felt so good she let it linger like a warm cup in her hands.

The sudden sharp ring of her phone jolted her out of her thoughts.

Her brow creased as she picked it up. Maybe Ryan? Maybe her mother?

But the name blinking on the screen made her sit upright.

Alexander.

Ryan’s assistant.

The man who, up until recently, treated her with stiff politeness and clipped professionalism, the kind of

polite coldness reserved for someone tolerated but not respected. Someone who had brought scandal to

his boss’s doorstep. Someone he believed did not belong.

She blinked, surprised, and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon, madam,” Alexander said, his tone startlingly respectful.

Eve straightened instinctively.

Madam?

He had never called her that before. Not once. In the early days he called her Eve with a tone so neutral it bordered on distant. Sometimes Mrs Ashbrook, but always with a polite stiffness that reminded her she

was a wife in title, not in acceptance.

But madam carried weight.

It carried acknowledgement.

It carried Ryan’s authority.

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