All Chapters of THE BILLIONAIRE BENEATH THE RAIN : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The morning after everything went public felt weird.Too quiet. Too empty.The city still moved like normal, people still walked around, cars still honked, but it didn’t sound the same.It felt like the world had moved on and left me behind in the noise of what happened.Everywhere I looked online, it was the same thing.Rand’s face. His name. My name.Headlines everywhere.> “Rand Calloway Resigns After Scandal.”“Calloway Empire Shaken by Love Affair.”“The Artist Who Cost a Billionaire His Throne.”I didn’t even click on any of them.I didn't need to.The titles alone were enough to punch me in the gut.He hadn’t called since that night.Just silence.No text. No word. Nothing.I tried to paint. Thought maybe that would calm me down.But I couldn’t even pick the right colours.Everything just looked wrong.Like the canvas was staring back at me, waiting for me to break first.I made coffee, but I didn’t drink it.I walked around the apartment like something was missing — because it

Morning came softly, like it didn’t want to wake us.The air smelled of rain again — faint, lingering, as if the night had washed something clean but couldn’t quite finish the job. I blinked against the light peeking through the curtains and turned my head. Rand was still there, asleep beside the window, his head resting against the wall, one arm hanging loosely by his side.For a moment, I didn’t move. I just watched him. The quiet rhythm of his breathing, the way his hair fell over his forehead — peaceful, almost boyish. It didn’t fit the man I used to see in headlines. This version of him was stripped down, raw, real.I got up quietly and walked into the kitchen. The mug from last night was still on the counter. Cold coffee. Crumbs on the table. Two plates we hadn’t bothered to wash. Everything about this apartment looked small next to him, yet somehow, he fit into it like he was meant to.I was rinsing the cups when I heard him behind me.“You always clean up this early?” His voic

The rain didn’t stop all night.It felt like the sky couldn’t breathe, like it was mourning something I didn’t know yet.I sat in the back seat of a police car, staring out the window as the city blurred by — lights smeared across the glass like streaks of memory. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, no matter how hard I pressed them together.Detective Hale sat in front, speaking quietly into a radio. His voice was calm, steady, like he’d done this a thousand times. But all I could hear was the storm inside my own head.When we arrived at the station, everything felt too bright. The smell of coffee and wet concrete filled the air. People moved in and out of rooms, their faces unreadable.He led me to a small office, motioned for me to sit.“Miss Monroe,” he said gently, “we’re not here to alarm you. But Mr Calloway was involved in an altercation earlier tonight.”My heart stopped. “Altercation?”He nodded. “A confrontation between him and his brother, Daniel Calloway. Witnesses say things

The day after everything happened felt like a blur.I woke up before Rand. Again. His breathing was soft, steady — almost peaceful. But I could tell it was the kind of peace that only lasts while you’re asleep. The kind that disappears the second you open your eyes and remember what’s waiting outside.I got up quietly, trying not to wake him, and went to make coffee. The sound of the kettle filling up, the hum of the stove — it was all starting to feel too normal. Like somehow, in the middle of all the chaos, we’d built a small world that made sense only to us.I was pouring the coffee when I heard his voice behind me.“Morning,” he said, still half-asleep, voice low and rough.“Morning,” I replied. “You actually slept longer this time.”He smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe because for once, I wasn’t thinking about the next board meeting.”“Or maybe because you didn’t have to look over your shoulder.”He looked at me for a second, then smiled faintly. “That too.”We sat do

A week passed before I realised how quiet everything had become.The chaos, the running, the tension — all of it had settled into something calmer. Not perfect, just quieter. It was strange at first, like we were both learning how to breathe again.Rand had started waking up early. Sometimes I’d find him sitting by the window with a notebook, writing things down. Plans, ideas, thoughts — he never said what they were, but he looked more at peace doing that than he ever did in a boardroom.One morning, I asked, “What are you working on?”He smiled without looking up. “Just… something new. Something of mine.”That was all he said, and I didn’t push. I’d learned that some dreams need time before they can be spoken out loud.As for me, I was painting again — properly this time. No distractions, no fear of whether it was good enough. I’d wake up, make coffee, and lose myself in the canvas. Some days, I’d catch Rand watching quietly from the doorway, that soft half-smile on his face.He neve