Ravi stood at the balcony railing, a glass of champagne held loosely at his side, looking out at the Paris skyline without really seeing it.
"So that is the reason she lost her memory," he said quietly. It was not quite a question.
Maxin stood beside him. "And you are the only one she remembers?"
"Yes. But she sees me as a stranger. She knows she does not remember the feelings I have for her. The love we shared." He paused. "I believe things will get better."
"Does she know you are mafia?" Maxin asked.
"She does not remember." Ravi swirled the champagne slowly. "The therapist will come tomorrow to begin her first session."
Maxin was quiet for a moment. Then he turned to face him.
"Ravi. She is in good condition now. No lasting physical damage. You could stop with the therapy. She does not have to remember every difficult thing she went through. You could simply start a fresh page with her."
"I cannot allow her to completely lose her past," Ravi said.
"Therapy will take years. And it is not one hundred percent guaranteed that she will recover everything. Most people in her condition only recover thirty to forty percent of their memories." Maxin looked at him carefully. "What if that thirty percent is only the part where you caused her pain. Where you frightened her. Where she suffered because of you. What will she do then? She will want nothing to do with you." He set his glass down. "I will leave you to think on that."
He walked back inside.
Ravi remained at the railing alone, the champagne untouched in his hand, Maxin's words settling into him like something he could not unfeel.
A knock at the door.
Ravi entered carrying a tray and set it carefully on the side table beside her bed. "I brought your medication, Aine."
Aine looked at the tray without blinking. It was covered in small pills of different colours, arranged beside a glass of water, bright and clinical against the white of the room. She reached for the glass without a word and began taking them one by one, methodically, without fuss, until the tray was empty. She set the glass down.
Ravi watched her. "You are doing very well. I believe you will recover soon."
Aine looked up at him. Something moved behind her eyes, quiet and searching. "I… w-oul… d li… ke to kn… ow." She paused, gathering the words carefully. "Wh… at k… ind of w… ork you… do."
Ravi held her gaze for just a moment too long. "I am a businessman," he said.
Aine considered this. "Ok… ay." She settled back against her pillow. "Good… night."
"Good night," Ravi said.
He picked up the tray and left, pulling the door closed softly behind him.
He stood in the corridor alone for a moment, the empty tray in his hands, the word businessman sitting uncomfortably in his chest where the truth used to be.
A sleek black car pulled up sharply in front of a large building. Numerous guards poured out immediately and formed a straight line from the car to the entrance, holding the door open as Ravi stepped out and walked through them without breaking stride.
Inside the building every desk worker rose to their feet as he crossed the hall. He moved directly to the lift and rode it to the top floor.
The doors opened to a boardroom where twelve men sat behind a long table, their expressions carrying the particular impatience of people who believe their time is worth more than anyone else's.
"Are you here to make us sign the contract?" one said before anyone else could speak. "The deadline is noon today."
"Your prices are too high," another added.
Maxin leaned forward. "If you will allow us to explain—"
"Reduce the prices or forget the contract entirely," a third cut in.
The room fell briefly silent.
"How much do you want per ton?" Ravi said.
Every head at the table turned toward him. One of the men sat back with a thin smile. "Oh. So you can speak." He looked around at his colleagues. "Five hundred dollars a ton."
"Five hundred dollars," the others confirmed, one after another.
Elora straightened in her seat. "The original price was one thousand five hundred dollars per ton. Even with a reduction a thousand dollars is more than reasonable."
"You either accept our price," one of the men said, looking directly at Ravi, "or you lose all twelve of us."
Ravi looked at them all slowly, one face at a time, without any particular hurry.
"Ravi, if you accept their terms we are at a loss. If you do not accept we are still at a loss because the goods will become useless," Elora said, her voice low and urgent.
Ravi's phone rang.
He answered it without looking away from the table.
"Ravi, everything is under control. We have bought everything from him," Hayland said through the phone.
"Thank you," Ravi said and ended the call.
He looked at the twelve men seated before him and let the silence sit for a moment.
"I know the reason you are all acting so defiant. Now you are all about to receive your biggest regret."
One by one every phone on the table lit up with the same email notification. Each man reached for his device. Each man read the same message. We sincerely apologise but our goods are now sold out.
The room changed immediately.
"Mr Ravi." One of the men cleared his throat. "I believe you are right. We should purchase from you only. Please, name your price."
The others leaned forward in agreement.
"Twenty thousand dollars per ton," Ravi said. "That is my price."
"Twenty thousand dollars!" The words left every mouth at the table simultaneously.
"If twenty thousand is too much for you then I will sell to the Americans. They are ready to pay whatever I ask."
A pause. Then one by one they reached for their pens.
"We will buy at twenty thousand dollars per ton."
They signed.
Ravi rose from the table and walked out.
"Ravi you never told us about any of this," Elora said, falling into step beside him as they moved toward the garage. "I was genuinely worried we were going to fail in there."
"It was a last minute decision. I could not disclose it beforehand," he replied.
Maxin shook his head slowly, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "I have known you all my life. You always stake the highest risk. You have not changed one bit."