Lyse watched as Brandon's face flushed crimson, his eyes widening as he choked on his wine. He sputtered and coughed, his carefully constructed composure crumbling. She felt a flicker of concern, but also a growing sense of unease. His reaction to her simple question had been strangely intense.
Once he had regained his composure, wiping his mouth with a napkin, Lyse repeated her question, her voice clear and direct. "You still haven't answered me, Brandon," she said. "Why did I resign from my job? Why did I leave Marlowe's?"
Brandon's flustered demeanor returned. He shifted in his seat, avoiding her gaze. He had not anticipated this line of questioning. He had hoped that Lyse's amnesia would prevent her from remembering the details of her resignation, allowing him to control the narrative.
"You… you got a better offer," he stammered, his voice slightly strained. "At a new company."
