Page 85 of Billionaire’s Ruin

And the stillness swallowed me whole all over again.

No one really talked to ech other anymore.

The conversations had dwindled down to necessity—strategy, updates, logistics. Anything else felt like a betrayal, like pretending this wasn’t life or death.

Even Lincoln and I had run out of things to say.

We sat across from each other, sharing stale air and even more stale silence. Words hovered between us sometimes, unspoken or half-formed, things we maybe should’ve said days ago. But every time they reached the surface, the moment broke, and the silence returned.

Still, the quiet gnawed at me.

Not just irritating—suspicious.

Lincoln barely looked at me.

Every time, his eyes slid away, a knot twisted inside me.

“Is there anything you’re not telling me?” I finally asked, unable to take it anymore.

“No.”

Just no. Pared down, clipped. He didn’t even lift his gaze from the map he’d been pretending to study for the past twenty minutes.

“I don’t need protecting,” I insisted. “Not anymore. You can tell me anything, Link.”

“June.” He exhaled—frustrated, strained, the kind of sigh that said he was seconds away from cracking. “I stopped treating you like a child years ago. When are you going to realize that? You need to grow up one day.”

It hit like a punch—sharp and low, stealing the air from my lungs.

Grow up?

Grow up?

That wasn’t fair.

He knew it wasn’t fair.

I stared at him, stunned—not by volume, but by accuracy. His words dug straight into the softest part of me, the part I tried hard to pretend didn’t exist.

I wanted to snap back, to tell him he had no idea what I’d survived, what I’d endured, what I’d been forced to become. I wanted to throw my pain in his face—make him see the scars he’d just prodded.

But when I caught the expression in his eyes, I froze.

The quiet disappointment in them gutted me.

And somehow, that hurt worse.

The look in his eyes made it clear.

“I’m not a child,” I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded.

“I know.” His tone softened, but not enough. An edge still clung to it. “Then quit acting like one. Quit waiting for something else to tell you what to do.”

The words stung because there was truth buried deep inside them.

Truth I didn’t want to face.

I’d been lingering in limbo.