All Chapters of BILLIONAIRE’S PLAY THING: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

POV: DominicThe apartment was too still. Every sound, the hum of the refrigerator, the faint groan of the pipes felt like an echo of something that used to be alive.Dominic stood by the window, his suitcase still half-packed from the night before. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t even tried. The rain had stopped hours ago, but the world outside still looked drenched, the sky a dull slate gray.He heard the door open behind him. The sound was small but sharp. His hands curled at his sides.“Dom,” Ethan said softly.He didn’t turn. Not yet. He couldn’t. The sound of Ethan’s voice was enough to split him open, too familiar, too gentle for what it carried now.“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Ethan added.“I live here,” Dominic said, and his voice came out steadier than he felt. “At least, I used to.”A pause. Footsteps. Then Ethan’s reflection appeared faintly in the glass beside his own smaller, tentative, a ghost of what he used to mean.“Please,” Ethan said. “Let me explain.”Dominic fi

POV: DominicThe house is louder now, even when no one speaks. It’s the kind of noise that lives under the skin, the scrape of dishes handled too roughly, the slam of doors that aren’t meant to sound angry but do, the short, clipped breaths of three people pretending they don’t see each other falling apart.Dominic sits at the dining table, laptop open, eyes on numbers that refuse to make sense. He’s been at it for hours, but concentration keeps slipping through his fingers. Every few minutes, he hears a laugh Tyler’s, it was sharp and careless from the kitchen.Ethan is in there, too. He can tell by the sound of shuffling feet and the faint clatter of a spoon hitting ceramic. Their voices move like heat, too quiet to catch, too familiar to ignore.Tyler says something, and Ethan mumbles a reply. Then there’s that laugh again, the one that feels like it’s meant to cut.Dominic tries to focus on the spreadsheet, but the numbers blur. He exhales, shuts the laptop, and finally walks t

POV: DominicThe house has begun to whisper. Not loudly, not in ways anyone else would notice but Dominic hears it. In the creak of a chair that shouldn’t move, in the faint drag of footsteps across the hall, in the sound of a drawer closing a second too late.It’s in the small things now. Always the small things. This morning, it’s the mugs.He finds them side by side in the sink one chipped black, one plain white. Ethan’s and Tyler’s. He’s sure of it. They’re both half-rinsed, a ring of cold coffee clinging to the bottom of each.Not unusual, not incriminating. But they’re together. Always together. He picks one up, Ethan’s and rinses it clean, his thumb tracing the small crack near the handle. He remembers buying it on a whim, years ago, because Ethan had laughed at the print that had faded long ago. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being funny.The sound of a door opening breaks the stillness. Tyler steps into the kitchen, still barefoot, hair messy, eyes sharp and bright in

POV: EthanThe morning feels wrong before he even opens his eyes. It’s the kind of quiet that doesn’t belong in a home, the kind that presses down, thick and waiting.He lies still, watching the ceiling, tracing cracks in the paint like they might offer answers. But they don’t. They just stare back, unbothered, unchanged.Down the hall, he hears movement. The soft clink of a cup. A cabinet closing. Then silence again. Dominic’s awake.The thought hits like a heartbeat, it was quick and panicked. He should get up. He should say something. Anything. But the words that once came so easily now stick in his throat, brittle and useless.He swings his legs out of bed, sits there for a moment, elbows on his knees. The air smells faintly like coffee. Tyler’s laughter from last night echoes in his head, it was sharp, it was careless, like he knew exactly which parts of Ethan to cut open and leave exposed.He stands, forcing himself down the hall. Each step feels heavier than it should.Dominic’

POV: DominicThe storm had started hours ago, but it hadn’t stopped. The rain was relentless, a steady percussion against the windows, a rhythm that matched the pulse in Dominic’s jaw. The house felt smaller tonight, walls closing in, shadows long and sharp under the thin light spilling from the hallway.He’d told himself he wouldn’t do this tonight. That he’d wait. That he’d think. But the longer he sat there, the more the silence filled with ghosts, whispers, fragments of words he couldn’t unhear.He rose from the couch. The clock read 12:43. When he pushed open the door to the hallway, the creak of the floorboards was the only sound that answered him. Upstairs, faint voices bled through the half-closed door of the study. One of them cracked mid-sentence, Ethan’s. The other was smooth, unbothered Tyler’s.Dominic didn’t need to listen this time. He already knew. He stepped inside.The light from the desk lamp was dim but enough to catch the way Ethan’s face went white when he saw