morning,

ourbon Herald read: "DISGRUNTLED DISTIL

painted a picture of me as a jealous, bitter employee, enraged that the brilliant Ryan Blakely was promoted ov

"lifted from poverty." Ryan was the noble hero, working tirele

n the tight-knit bourbon community. Some were confused, some were angry. The s

e. But I had been digging

able, opened my laptop, and

nfused, haphazardly checking gauges. It showed him dumping in commercial-grade yeast from a sack, a cardinal sin. It showed him taking frantic phone calls, his fac

f Ryan's "new" batch. I released the comparative chemical analysis. The reports were undeniable. Ryan's batch lacked the specific ester and phenol compounds that were the unique c

g that any intellectual property brought into the marriage remained the property of the original owner. And I attached the notarized affidavits from my parents, detailing

ts sections of the articles turned from

mous email I received late that night. It was fr

and white. Ryan wasn't just a fraud. He was a corporate saboteur. He had been hired to get close to Nicole, steal my methods, and then intent

evidence, to the editor of the Bourbon Herald, the FBI

water, and waited. The truth was out. The fire w