Page 249 of Ruin Me Gently

Small Tech Startup Seeking Funding.

My pulse ticked in my throat as one hand flexed against the armrest before curling into a fist.

They were asking for a modest cash injection—just enough to get them off the ground, just enough to breathe. The product wasn’t revolutionary, but it was solid. Thoughtful. Practical. A niche software solution for businesses struggling with outdated automation systems.

I should’ve been able to make a decision, sign off, close the file, move on. But I leaned back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my jaw, fingers catching on the stubble I’d let grow too long. My whole body was running on fumes, but my brain wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t shut off.

I exhaled through my nose and dragged the document to the side, letting it sit open. There were emails to answer. Reports to finalise. A dozen other things that needed my attention.

The monitor I’d set up next to the laptop flickered as the AIFG tracker cycled through another face. Then another. Then another.

Not him.

My jaw clenched, eyes flicking between the constant, methodical rotation of faces and the actual work on my laptop.

I checked the time. 3a.m.Then the unread emails. Then the notifications piling up like static in the corner of my screen.

My stomach grumbled, a sharp twisting reminder that I hadn’t eaten since…

Shit. When was the last time I ate?

I should’ve gone to bed. Lilith was there, warm and waiting. But I couldn’t.

The tracker loaded a new face. My heart stopped.

Come on, give me something.

Another mismatch.

I gritted my teeth, my knee bouncing, body thrumming with agitation. My eyelids burned. My body ached. I needed to shave. I needed to eat.

I dragged my focus back to the proposal. The startup. The cash injection. The people behind it who needed someone to take a chance on them. I clicked back onto the financials, scanning the numbers.

I couldn’t fucking focus.

A sharp exhale punched from my lungs.

Monitor.

Emails.

Monitor.

Emails.

Monitor.

Emails.

The pain was unbearable—sharp and raw and furious—before I could think better of it, my hand shot out. The pot of pens on the desk went flying, before clattering to the floor.

“Silas?”

“CHE CAZZO VUOI?!”

The words exploded out of me, snapping through the silence before I even processed turning, spinning on my chair.

A sharp gasp.

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