Page 82 of Something’s Brewing

Respect.

“You didn’t come here out of respect,” she said. “You came here because you think I’ll fall in line if you show up and demand it.”

“I came here because despite everything, you’re still my daughter.”

She clenched her fists by her side. “Then start acting like a father.”

His expression cooled. “I am. I’m offering you a future. Stability. Leadership. Not”—he gestured around the brewery again—“this. And certainly not whatever influence convinced Mason to walk away from everything I built.”

“Mason made his own decision.”

“A reckless one. Encouraged by the wrong people.”

“Hey.” Garrett’s voice cut in—low, controlled.

Madison turned slightly as he stepped up beside her, close enough that the heat of him grounded her.

Harrison’s gaze shifted, and recognition clicked. “Garrett Reid,” he said. “Of course.”

“Mr. Mitchell,” Garrett replied, politely, but barely.

“I should have guessed you’d be nearby.”

“Funny,” Garrett said. “Since I own the place.”

“I was just speaking with my daughter,” Harrison said, “about correcting a mistake.”

“Didn’t sound like much of a conversation.”

“It’s a family matter.”

“Then you might want to try talking to her like she’s family,” Garrett said.

“I don’t need a lecture from the man who helped derail my son’s career.”

“Mason didn’t need help. It was his call.”

“A call he’ll regret. And one you were happy to benefit from.”

“Yeah,” Garrett said. “We’ve both benefited greatly from our decision.”

“A true friend would have encouraged him to stay where he belonged,” Harrison said.

“A true friend lets someone decide that for themselves.”

Silence stretched tight.

“This,” Harrison said, gesturing between them, “is exactly what I’m talking about. Short-term thinking. Emotional decisions. You’re both settling.”

“Careful,” Garrett said.

Harrison ignored him. “You have an opportunity to step into something bigger, Madison,” he continued. “And instead, you’re choosing this small-town distraction, this⁠—”

“That’s enough.” Garrett stepped forward. “If you can’t speak to your daughter with basic respect,” he said, voice steady and unyielding, “then you don’t get to speak to her at all.”

Silence descended on the room.

“You think you have any authority here?” Harrison asked.