His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 112

Chapter 112

I sat up slowly. “What is it?”

He hesitated. “I need to tell you something. Because I promised myself I’d never keep things from you again.”

My chest tightened. “Liam… you’re scaring me.”

He ran a hand over his face. “The night you didn’t answer any of my texts. I was a mess. I drank. A lot. More than I should have.”

My heart stalled, then slammed forward, bracing for whatever was coming.

“I don’t remember everything,” he said. “But I woke up the next morning… and Cassie was in my bed. Naked.”

My stomach twisted. The air turned sharp. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run, or scream.

“I didn’t touch her,” he said quickly. “I swear on everything. I know myself. I know what I’m capable of. I wouldn’t do that. But she says otherwise.”

His voice cracked. “I need you to believe me. Please.”

Silence swallowed the room.

“Do you?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“Do you believe me?”

I didn’t answer Liam right away.

My heart was racing, palms cold, throat tight. Cassie in his bed. Naked. It clung to my thoughts like smoke I couldn’t blow away. But when I looked into Liam’s eyes, I didn’t see lies.

I saw torment. Regret. A man who would rather bleed than break what we had.

“I believe you,” I finally said, softly. “Because love without trust isn’t love at all. And I love you, Liam. So yes, I believe you.”

The breath he released was jagged and loud, like it had been strangled in his chest for too long.

14:50

Chapter 112

“You just made me the happiest man alive.”

208 Vouchers

He held me like I was the only thing keeping him upright. “I swear to you, Emily. You’ll never regret trusting me. Not for one second.”

And I believed him.

Over the next few weeks, we found our rhythm again.

Not the curated kind people post on Instagram, with matching pajamas or soft–filtered sunsets. Ours was messy, warm, alive. Tangled sheets and sleepy mornings. Burnt pancakes and laughter in the kitchen.

Liam crashing my shoots just to kiss me between takes. Me stealing moments with him in elevators like we had a secret.

There was calm in the noise. It felt like our worlds had stopped crashing and started moving side by side.

He spoiled me like a man making up for lost time.

A designer sent over five custom aprons stitched with Chef Emily in soft gold. Liam denied being behind it, but I caught his smirk when I tried one on.

We attended charity galas, launch parties, and one outrageously extravagant yacht dinner hosted by his mother. Photos of us started popping up online. Hands held. Foreheads leaned close. Grins blooming between champagne sips.

But none of that compared to the fire we built behind closed doors.

The cooking show, too, was thriving.

Views doubled. Comments poured in. Sponsors filled my inbox faster than I could clear it.

The buzz hadn’t died down since Mason’s episode, and Sophia, being Sophia, was already plotting the next wave.

I was scrolling through sponsor emails when Sophia walked in, smoothie in hand, like she was here to fire someone. “So… when are you inviting Jay?”

I looked up from my laptop. “Jay?”

14:51

Chapter 112

She gave me a look. “Yes. Jason. Unless there’s another chart–topping Jason you’re hiding somewhere?”

I raised a brow. “You think he’d actually do it?”

258 Vouchers

“For you? Absolutely. Besides, everyone knows Jay as this insanely talented musician. Why not show them the guy who can’t cook pasta without googling it? Let them see the version we know, Trust me, they’ll fall for it.”

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify