His Recipe, Their Ruin

wick Ales! Chadwick Ales!" We had just won the gold medal at the Great American Beer Festival for our Imperial Stout, the biggest award i

rough from hauling grain sacks and cleaning tanks

tarted to walk towards the stage,

wife, the CEO

path. She grabbed Wesley, her brand manager, by t

he beamed at the crowd, her voice

in the shadows o

't a professional gesture. It was intimate, possessive. The cameras flashed, capturing the image of them, the "faces" of Chadw

ting finally ended. I found Nicole in our design

one all business, no wa

," I replied,

djusting the medal that hung around her neck. "About me and W

look of pure tri

tical. A forced one. To rest. It'll show the industry we're stable a

Wesley stepped forward. He was holding

," he said, his voice dripping with false sympa

p, my original recipe notebooks. The very soul of the brewery,

feeling like a tombstone. The betrayal was so complete, so cold, it

leaving them in the glow