His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 162

I turned to him, my throat tight. “Have I told you today that I love you?”

He smiled. “You’re telling me now. And I’ll never get tired of hearing it.‘

Outside, the grounds stretched wide, lush gardens flowing into a sparkling pool, and a playground that looked straight out of a dream.

Inside, the space opened even larger. Room after room, high ceilings and wide halls. It was easily twice the size of Liam’s old place, designed for a family that dreamed of filling it with noise and laughter, with children running through every corner.

“How many kids are you planning, exactly?” I teased.

“Five.” he answered without hesitation.

“Three,” I shot back.

“We’ll see,” he smirked.

Then he took my hand. “Come. There’s one more thing.”

He led me to a detached building. When he opened the door, my heart stopped.

A studio, fully equipped down to the smallest detail, standing ready.

“For the days you don’t want to go to the main studio,” he said. “This one is yours. Only yours.”

My eyes blurred with tears. I laughed, crying at the same time. “Liam… this is…”

He pulled me into his arms. “Stop crying. I built this to make you happy, not sad.”

“I am happy,” I whispered against him. “These are tears of joy.”

I tilted my head, looking up at him. “Summer holiday is officially my favorite.”

“Why?” he asked, smiling.

“Because it’s when our paths crossed.

”

With Cassie’s killer exposed, the storm she left behind eased. The media frenzy dulled, the hate

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essmments that once flooded my posts lessened to a few seallered drops

I could upload my pre–recorded cooking videos again without dread, scroll through the comments without teeling the weight of poison words. For the first time in what felt like forever, the interactions with my audience were healthy, warm and fun.

Cassie’s mess had ended. Finally, Liam and I had our lives back.

Settling into our new home became its own adventure. As my belly grew and the due date loomed closer. I insisted we decorate the nursery together. I thought it would be sweet, bonding, Cute,

even

Liam saw it as a battle line being drawn. We debated over almost everything. Crib style, curtains, even where the rocking chair should go. But the fiercest argument broke out over the paint color.

“Pink,” he declared, arms crossed. “It’s a girl. It has to be pink.”

“We don’t know that yet,” I shot back, hands on my hips. “So no. Definitely not pink.”

Back and forth we went, bickering like children over paint swatches. In the end, we settled on a gender–neutral color, though Liam sulked like I’d robbed him of his crown. “Fine. But when we confirm it’s a girl, I’m repainting.”

Painting was only the beginning. Liam hijacked the entire nursery project like it was a corporate takeover. He spent ridiculous amounts of money customizing furniture, ordering gadgets I didn’t even think a baby needed. Even with both grandmothers‘ gifts already stacked in the corner, he kept adding to the pile.

Most nights, he disappeared into what he now called “his princess’s room.” He binged YouTube tutorials, fixing and assembling piece after piece carefully, as if every screw and bolt mattered more than anything else in the world. Some evenings, he came home, showered, ate, and vanished into the nursery without another word.

Eventually, I stopped telling him to slow down. He was too far gone, and honestly… watching him like that made me love him more.

Out of everything Cassie’s downfall gave me, the gift I cherished most was freedom- sweet, ordinary freedom.

No bodyguard trailing me everywhere. No more hiding indoors. At last, I could step outside, go anywhere, breathe freely.

It felt good, just me and Sophia back at our favorite spot. A quiet café, good drinks, better snacks.

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