Chapter 3

"What's he doing here, Casey?" I asked, my voice low.

Casey bristled. "Ethan is a guest. My guest."

"In our home? So soon?"

"It's my parents' home, Alex, let's be clear," she snapped, her eyes flashing. "And Ethan is an old friend. He's being supportive."

Supportive. The word felt like acid.

"And you?" I looked at her, really looked at her. "Are you being supportive of our daughter's memory by wanting to turn her room into an office for your... projects?"

Ethan chuckled. "Sounds like someone's a little territorial."

"This isn't about territory," I said, my gaze fixed on Casey. "This is about respect. Something you seem to have forgotten."

"Don't you dare lecture me about respect, Alex!" Casey stood up, her voice rising. "You, with your little hobby brewery. You think you contributed anything of value? My parents carried us!"

Years of suppressed anger, of quiet humiliations, surged through me.

"My 'little hobby' won Seaboard Brews three national awards, Casey! My recipes, my process. While your parents were busy telling me I wasn't good enough, that I'd married up. I dedicated my life to that brewery, to providing for our family, for Daisy!"

Casey' s face was white with fury. Ethan watched, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"You ungrateful... How dare you speak to me like that in front of Ethan!" she seethed. "Get out! Get out of my parents' house!"

I looked at her, at the stranger she had become. "Fine."

"And take your junk with you!" she shrieked. "Don't ever come back!"

Ethan's smirk widened.

The marriage was dead. It had been for a long time. Daisy was the only thing holding the shattered pieces together. Now, even that was gone, desecrated by Casey's actions.

Divorce. It was the only way.