His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 55

To make things worse, Sophia had flown off to Paris for a fashion show. She disappeared in a whirlwind of couture, camera flashes, and zero updates. I had no one to ask, no one to lean on. No one to say, He’s just being Liam, give it time.

I once grabbed my phone to text him–on impulse, only to freeze when I realized something stupid and humiliating:

I didn’t have his number.

How had we come this far, shared moments, heat, silence, confusion, and I didn’t even have a way to reach him?

I laughed when I realized it.

And then I cried.

Twice, I swore I heard a knock on my door. I ran out of bed both times like a madwoman, heart hammering, only to open it to empty night. That was when I knew I was slipping. I’d become that girl. Standing barefoot in a T–shirt, whispering, “Please be him,” to no one.

By midnight, I couldn’t take it anymore. My bed felt like a coffin. The silence like a scream. I needed air. I needed movement. I needed distance from my thoughts.

So I grabbed my keys, threw on a hoodie, and left.

I drove without thinking, turning randomly down streets I barely registered.

And somehow, I ended up in front of Liam’s house.

I don’t remember choosing the address. Maybe it wasn’t me behind the wheel. Maybe it was my heart, or whatever was left of it.

The engine idled as I stared at the familiar front door, biting the inside of my cheek, debating if I should reverse and drive away before I embarrassed myself completely.

And then the door opened.

Liam stepped out.

13:35

Chapter 55

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Gray joggers hung low on his hips, the black T–shirt stretched tight across his chest like a second skin. His hair was tousled, eyes shadowed with something unreadable.

He stared at me across the dark, quiet street.

And without a word, he turned and went back inside.

He didn’t wait. Didn’t slam the door. Just left it open, like an invitation I couldn’t ignore.

I shut off the engine and stepped out slowly, cach step toward the house heavier than the last.

Inside, the living room was dim, lit only by a floor lamp casting soft shadows across the walls. The air between us felt thick, charged, like we’d stepped into the eye of a storm.

He didn’t speak.

Neither did I.

We stood there in silence, the kind that stretched into your bones, until finally, he broke it. “So… you came all the way here to sit and listen to our heartbeats, or what?”

His voice was dry, rough. But not cruel.

I inhaled, trying to find my words. “No. I came because… I don’t know. I thought we should talk.”

“Talk,” he repeated, leaning back against the console table. “Great. Let’s talk.”

“I’m… sorry,” I said softly.

“For what?” His brows lifted, slow and precise. “Be specific, Emily.”

I hesitated. “That’s the thing. I don’t know exactly what I’m apologizing for.”

“So you’re just saying sorry because you feel like

you should?”

“No,” I said, sharper this time. “Because you’re mad at me.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “And why am I mad at you?”

“I don’t know!” My voice cracked. “You’re the one who vanished. You’re the one who’s been

acting like I set fire to your

life.”

13:35

Chapter 55

288 Vouchers

“If you’re here to make this worse than it already is,” he said, pushing off the table. “you can leave.”

“At least I’m here!” I shouted. “At least I’m trying! You’ve been acting like a ghost and I’ve been going out of my mind trying to figure out what the hell happened!”

“You’re the one who got caught kissing someone else.”

“He kissed me!” I snapped. “I didn’t kiss him back.”

He scoffed. “Yeah? What’s the difference?”

“That’s rich,” I said bitterly. “What do you care anyway? We’re not together, remember? Last

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