Chapter 4

"I've poured everything into Artisan Ales, Maya," I found myself saying, the words tumbling out. "Not just the recipes, but years. My life."

She listened patiently on the other end of the line.

"Chloe... she' s changed. The success, it' s like a drug to her. She wants more, faster, and I' m just... in the way."

I told her about the party, about Liam, about the constant sidelining. I didn' t mention the cheap watch; some humiliations were too petty to voice, yet they stung the most.

"I' ve been the silent partner, the hidden husband, for seven years. I thought this new investment, this party... I thought it was finally time."

My voice was low, devoid of the fire I usually had when talking about brewing.

"She chose to highlight an intern over me. Over us."

"Ethan," Maya said, her tone serious but kind. "The offer stands. Head of Innovation. Full creative control. And we value loyalty and talent, not just flash."

Summit Brews was everything Artisan Ales was becoming not.

Ethically run, focused on quality, a place where brewers were artists, not just cogs.

"I need to think about my intellectual property," I said. "The core IPA recipe, it' s mine. Pre-dates the company."

"Our legal team can look at that, ensure you' re protected," Maya assured me. "Take your time, Ethan. But know the door is open, and we' d be damn lucky to have you."

We talked for a while longer, about brewing, about the industry, about the passion that Chloe seemed to have lost, or traded for ambition.

Hanging up, a sliver of something like hope pierced the gloom.

It wasn't about revenge. It was about survival. About reclaiming my craft, my dignity.

I looked around the office, Liam' s future office. My past.

The plans for expansion Chloe had been pushing, the ones that sacrificed quality for quantity, suddenly seemed like someone else' s problem.

My path was diverging.

I spent the next few days in a daze, going through the motions at the brewery.

Chloe was busy, fawning over Liam, discussing "brand synergy" and "influencer outreach."

She' d occasionally ask if I was "still sulking," her tone making it clear she considered my feelings an inconvenience.

I didn' t argue. I didn' t engage.

I was already halfway out the door in my mind.

I met with a lawyer Maya recommended. He confirmed what I already knew: my original recipes were mine, licensed to Artisan Ales, a license I could revoke.

The decision was made.

It was time to cut the cord. Not just from the company, but from Chloe.

The love I' d felt, the shared dreams, had been corroded by her ambition, her casual cruelty.

There was nothing left to save.