“Serious investors don’t just look at revenue. They focus on EBITDA–Earnings Before Interest, Taxes, Depreciation, and Amortization. That’s what tells them if the business is truly profitable. And even then, industry matters. A software company can be valued at ten times its earnings, while a retail store gets maybe three times. Some businesses scale easily; others don’t.”
Andrea tilted her head. “Scaling… that means growing fast, right?”
“Not just growing–growing efficiently,” he corrected. “The best businesses don’t depend on people; they depend on systems. If your business falls apart the moment you step away, you don’t own a business. You own a job.”
She laughed. “That sounds brutal.”
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. Data matters more than gut feelings. Smart entrepreneurs don’t just ‘trust their instincts‘; they track numbers. They optimize what works and cut what doesn’t.”
Andrea smirked. “So, when you negotiate a business deal, do you follow the same logic?”
His lips curled into a grin. “Absolutely. First rule? Never accept the first offer. The person with the most leverage always wins. And you always–always–need an exit strategy. A deal that locks you in with no way out? That’s not a deal–it’s a trap.”
Then he stopped.
The words hung between them, his expression shifting as if something had just clicked.
Andrea stared at him, heart pounding. It was a breakthrough–the biggest they’d ever had.
Because for a man who didn’t even remember his own name, Asher had just remembered something.
Andrea froze. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him, her fingers tightening around the game piece she had been holding. This wasn’t just idle knowledge–this was instinct, experience, something buried deep inside him that had just surfaced without warning.
And Asher–he looked just as shocked as she felt. His lips parted slightly, his brows drawing together as if he were hearing himself for the first time. His hands, which had been casually resting on the table, curled into fists.
They both sat there, motionless, staring at each other. The air between them felt charged, as if they had just stumbled upon something far bigger than a simple conversation.
Andrea swallowed. What did this mean?
If he could remember this–if he could speak about finance, business strategy, investments as if he had done it his entire life–then maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as lost as they thought. Maybe his past wasn’t completely erased.
And if one memory had returned…
More could follow.
She exhaled, the weight of realization pressing down on her. Who was Asher before he became the man sitting across from het?
And more terrifyingly… who or what exactly had he been trying to forget?
1/3
What if…
Andrea wondered.
What if the magic continued just a little longer?
Her heart pounded as she watched him, as she watched the light in his eyes–the flicker of something more than just instinct, more than just survival. Something real. What if she pushed just a little further? What if she could keep him here, in this moment, before it slipped away?
She hesitated, then softly asked, “What’s your name?”
A slow, unbearable silence stretched between them.
For a moment, he didn’t answer. He only looked at her–looked through her–like she was something precious, something familiar yet just beyond his grasp.
Then, as if the word had always been waiting on his tongue, he exhaled a single name.
“Asher.”
The light in his eyes flickered. Diminished. Reality crept in, clawing at the edges of whatever magic had made him remember. But he didn’t look away. He kept watching her, studying her, as if seeing her for the first time–or maybe for the last.
Andrea didn’t falter. She didn’t let the ache in her chest show. Instead, she smiled and took it all in stride.
“For now,” she nodded.
That night, before bed, she marked 23rd December on her calendar.
Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. And in just a few weeks, she would be stepping into her eighth month of pregnancy.
As she lay in bed, sleep pulled her under, deep and dreamless at first. Then the image came–so vivid, so sharp, it felt real.
Asher stood before her, separated by a glass wall. But something was wrong. He wasn’t the man who made her laugh, who helped her fold laundry, who played board games with her every evening.
He was distant. Cold. His face was devoid of warmth, of recognition.
She pressed her palm against the glass. “Asher?”
He didn’t react.
“Asher!” she tried again, louder this time. Still, nothing. He only stared through her, as if she were a stranger.
Panic swelled in her chest. “ASHER!” She banged on the glass, desperate to break whatever trance had taken him. “It’s me!”
Finally, he spoke.
But the words shattered her.
“I am not Asher.”
2/3
Chapter 322
And just like that, the dream dissolved into darkness.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
