My Ex-Wife's Bitter Brew

lready moving toward me, their faces impassive. I was about

had one thing left. One thing of immen

d into the inner pocket of my jacket and

nerations of Hughes family tasters. It was the symbol of "The Palate," the very vessel from which my grandfather and fath

e confidence than I felt. I placed it on the official's table.

its history. He nodded slowly. "The collateral is ac

the crowd. It was a

sement. "How pathetic," she said to Caleb. "Sel

a case of 1945 Macallan. My sweet s

e hundred tho

ole called out instantly, n

on. This wasn't about acquiring the whiskey. It was about making me spend, about draining my collateral on a s

tique Collection. Anything I showed the slightest interest in, she snatched away, paying far over market value, her eyes

won a single thing. I was being toyed with, humiliated fo