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 , Brandon," she said. "Why did I resign from my job? Why did I leave Marlowe’s?"
Brandon’s flustered deanor 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 rembering the details of her resignation, allowing him to control the narrative.
"You... you got a better offer," he stamred, his voice slightly strained. "At a new company."
Lyse’s brow furrowed. "A new company?" she repeated, her confusion deepening. "What company? But Brooke said that she had to replace after my accident."
"Don’t listen to Brooke!" Brandon said sharply, then seeing the look on Lyse’s face, he relaxed. "You know your sister has always been jealous of you, she has never treated you well. You shouldn’t trust her."
Lyse raised an eyebrow, surprised at Brandon’s words. He had always been the one asking her to be patient with Brooke, she never expected that he would turn around and ask her not to trust Brooke. Sothing suspicious was happening and it unsettled her, she hated being in the dark like this.
Brandon’s mind raced, searching for a plausible explanation. He needed to co up with sothing quickly, sothing that would satisfy her curiosity and prevent her from digging any deeper.
"It’s... it’s a new venture," he said, forcing a confident smile. "A company that my... that my real father is starting. He is going to make the CEO."
Lyse’s eyes widened in surprise. "Your real father?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity. She knew his father as Dr Marlowe, what was this about a real father?
Brandon nodded, seizing on this opportunity to further embellish his story. "Yes," he said, his voice now filled with bitterness. "My mother had been lying to , Alfred Marlowe is not my father. He is just a stupid sucker."
Lyse gapped at him, shocked at the turn in the story. She could not conceive Sutton Marlowe as soone who could do sothing like that.
"Well, he is a very influential man. He has always wanted a son who would be a part of his business empire."
He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "And I asked you to co with , Lyse," he said, his voice softening. "I wanted you to head the fashion departnt. It would have been a huge opportunity for you."
Lyse remained silent, her mind reeling. The story felt... off. It didn’t quite fit with the vague fragnts of mories she had. She could not shake the feeling that Brandon was hiding sothing from her, but why would he do that.
"I... I don’t understand," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Why don’t I rember any of this?"
Brandon reached across the table and took her hand, his touch sending a shiver of unease through her. "It’s because of the accident, Lyse," he said, his voice soothing. "It’s affected your mory. But don’t worry, I’ll help you rember everything."
When Lyse stop stared doubtfully at him, he continued, "It’s a chance for you to show the world how talented you are, starting with the Golden Fleece competition."
Lyse pulled her hand away gently, her gaze fixed on his face. She could not shake the feeling that he was lying to her, everyone was lying to her.
"I need so air," she said, her voice firm. "I will be right back.
"
She stood up and excused herself, heading towards the restroom. She needed a mont to collect her thoughts, to try and make sense of the conflicting information swirling in her head.
As she left, Levi suddenly appeared beside Brandon, his expression grim. He had been following them, keeping a watchful eye on Lyse. He had seen the way Brandon had been touching her, the way he had been weaving his web of lies. His anger was reaching a boiling point.
Brandon noticed Levi’s presence and a smirk spread across his face. "Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who it is. The ghost of deadbeats past."
Levi ignored the insult, his gaze fixed on Brandon. "You need to stop playing with her and stay away from her," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
Brandon chuckled, unfazed by Levi’s threat. "Too late," he said. "She is back with now. You have lost her, father. She does not rember you, heck, she does not have an idea that you exist. All that she knows is that her loving boyfriend is by her side and I will never let her slip out of my hands again."
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes eting Levi’s. "She’s mine now," he repeated, his voice laced with triumph. "And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Not only that, I am going to take everything that you have, everything which you deprived off."
Levi’s face, already looking dark, darkened. Looking like a thunderstorm that was about to unleash. "What do you an by that?" He growled.
"Only that you are no longer the top dog, there is a new boss in town." Brandon answered cockily. "Now if you don’t mind, I advise you leave. I would hate to traumatize my fiancée." He added, putting emphasis on the word, "girlfriend."
Levi clenched his fists, curbing the urge to grab Brandon by the collar and throw him through the window. He turned and walked away from the table. As he left, he heard Lyse’s voice. Soft, probing.
"Who was that?"
"Nobody that matters baby." Brandon answered.
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