Page 27 of Until the Storm Breaks (The Midnight Men #1)

CALVIN

I’m pulling into the grocery store parking lot, thinking about getting something for dinner that isn’t leftover pizza, when my phone rings.

Sheila Morrison’s name lights up the screen.

Finally. I left her a voicemail yesterday asking for details about the sale, trying to find some loophole, some way to protect Maren.

“Calvin, sorry for the delay getting back to you.” Her voice sounds strange, careful, like she’s walking on eggshells. “I was in Seattle for a closing.”

“No problem. As I mentioned in my message, I know you and Dominic have largely been communicating, but I want to go over the terms. Specifically why the buyers are so firm about not including protection for the cabin rental. There has to be something we can negotiate.”

There’s a pause. Too long. The kind of pause that means bad news. “Calvin... you should probably talk to Dominic about those specifics.”

I put the truck in park, engine still running, AC blowing against the July heat. “Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Well...” Another pause, longer this time. “Calvin, you know it’s Verdant State, right? The wellness developer? Not a private family?”

The words hit like cold water. I grip the steering wheel harder, knuckles going white. “What?”

“Oh.” Her voice gets more uncomfortable, that tone people use when they realize they’ve stepped in something. “You didn’t know. Dominic said you were all on board with the development plan. They’ve already filed preliminary permits at the county. I thought... I assumed...”

“Development plan.” My voice sounds distant to my own ears.

“They’re creating a wellness center. They’re calling it Midnight Wellness, keeping the family name, which I suppose is something.

But Calvin, it’s a complete teardown. Everything goes.

The house, the cabins. That’s why they won’t agree to keeping any rentals.

The whole property gets redeveloped. I’m sorry, Calvin.

I really am. I assumed you knew. The plans are all public record at the county office if you want to see them.

They filed permits weeks ago. Maybe months. ”

My mind races through every conversation with Dominic. Every vague mention of “buyers.” Every time I brought up Maren’s cabin and he said he was “working on it.” The fucking bastard has been lying to my face for weeks.

“Thank you for telling me, Sheila.”

“Calvin, I’m sorry. This puts me in an awkward position with your brother—”

“It’s not your fault,” I say. “I appreciate you being honest.”

After I hang up, I sit in the truck for thirty seconds, letting the rage build.

My hands are shaking. Not just from anger but from the betrayal of it.

Then I reverse out of the parking spot hard enough to make the tires squeal and head for the county clerk’s office.

I need to see exactly what my brother has planned.

That lying piece of shit.

The county office is quiet mid-morning, just the hum of fluorescent lights and ancient computers. Brenda looks up from her computer when I walk in, her face lighting up with recognition. She’s worked here since before I was born, knew my parents when they were young and full of plans.

“Calvin Midnight! I haven’t seen you in years.” Her face softens, that look people get. “So sorry about your mother. Susan was a special woman.”

“Thanks, Brenda. She was something special.” I manage what I hope looks like a normal smile, not the rictus of rage I’m feeling. “Listen, I need to see any permits filed for the Midnight property. Family business, you know how it is.”

“Of course, honey, let me pull those for you.” She disappears into the back, her shoes clicking on the old linoleum. She returns with a thick folder, heavier than I expected. “Here you go, hon. Take your time. Coffee’s fresh if you want some.”

“Thanks, I’m good.” I’m not sure I could keep anything down right now.

She settles back at her computer, tactfully giving me privacy to review the documents. I open the folder with hands that aren’t quite steady, needing to see the actual scope of what Dominic has planned.

I spread the papers across the counter, each page another betrayal.

Complete demolition. Fifteen luxury wellness pods.

A meditation center where Maren’s cabin sits.

Yoga platforms on the bluff. Every tree over ten feet to be removed and replaced with “climate-appropriate therapeutic landscaping.” Even the old growth Douglas firs Dad refused to cut when he built the original house.

Site plans that erase every trace of our childhood.

I knew he’d been working on the sale before Mom’s death, but to know it was for this complete destruction made me realize every board I’d replaced in the sunroom, every hour spent fixing what I thought would stand, had been pointless.

I photograph everything.

Back in the truck, I text Dominic:

Calvin: Need to talk. Now. Where are you?

Dominic: At home. Theo’s here going over restaurant stuff. Why?

Calvin: Be there in ten.

The drive to Dominic’s takes me through the old neighborhoods, past houses I remember from childhood. His place sits in one of the newer developments, all strategic rusticity and calculated charm. Theo’s Subaru is parked beside Dominic’s BMW.

I don’t bother knocking. The door’s unlocked—small town habits die hard even in fake neighborhoods. They’re at the dining table, laptops open, papers spread between them. Comfortable. Casual. The brothers who stayed, handling family business while Jack and I lived our lives elsewhere.

They look up when I walk in. Theo’s face shifts immediately to concern. Dominic just looks annoyed at the interruption.

“Cal? Everything okay?” Theo says, already half-standing.

“Verdant State Developments.” I set my phone on the table between them, the demolition permit filling the screen. “Complete demolition. Wellness center. When exactly were you planning to mention this?”

Dominic doesn’t even flinch. Just leans back in his chair like he’s been expecting this. Maybe he has. “Sit down, Cal.”

“I’ll stand.”

Dominic’s face doesn’t change, that CEO mask he perfected, but Theo shifts uncomfortably, looking between us. “Let’s all sit down,” Theo says, his voice taking on that careful tone. Already trying to broker peace, like always. But I’m done with peace.

“You knew?” I turn on him. “You knew they’re tearing down Mom’s house? Everything?”

Before Theo can answer, Dominic cuts in. “Everyone who bothered to join the family meetings knew. You and Jack weren’t fucking here. Theo, Alex and I have been the ones dealing with this.”

“So Jack doesn’t know either,” I say. It’s not a question.

“Jack agreed to the sale,” Dominic says. “Same as you.”

“But not to this,” I say. “Not to demolition.”

“He trusted us to handle the details,” Dominic says. “Just like you did, until suddenly you care.”

“You mean he still doesn’t know you’re tearing everything down,” I say.

Theo finally speaks up, his voice gentle.

“Cal, listen. It breaks my heart too. But we need to think about the future, and none of us are going to live there. You’re in Seattle, Jack’s always traveling, Dom has his place, Alex and I each have ours.

We can’t afford twenty-six thousand a year in taxes and maintenance for an empty house that needs four hundred thousand in repairs. ”

“It’s ten acres of prime waterfront,” Dominic adds. “They’re offering two and a half million. Cash. No contingencies. Do you understand what that means?”

“I understand it means you lied to me,” I say.

“I told you we had buyers,” Dominic says. “You didn’t ask for details.”

“You knew I’d care about this.”

“Did I?” Dominic stands now. “When exactly would I know that? During your twice-yearly visits? The five-minute phone calls?”

“How fucking dare you try to spin this—” My voice rises.

Theo raises his hands slightly. “Dom, that’s not fair. We all dealt with Mom’s illness differently.”

“Exactly. I had classes—” I start.

“We all have jobs, Cal,” Dominic interrupts, voice rising. “But Theo and Alex and I made time because someone had to handle this. Someone had to deal with the lawyers, the assessments, the buyers.”

“I know it’s hard,” Theo says, rubbing his temples like he’s fighting off a migraine. “Believe me, I’ve been struggling with it, too. But the wellness center will at least preserve the Midnight name. That’s something, right?”

“It’s bullshit,” I spit out. “Some tech bro slapping Mom and Dad’s name on his meditation pods and IV drip lounges. And Maren?”

The question hangs in the air. Theo looks down.

“What about her?” Dominic asks.

“She’s lived there for ten years. Mom promised—”

“Mom promised a lot of things she couldn’t deliver on,” Dominic cuts me off. “Maren’s lease was always month-to-month. She knew that. Besides, towards the end Mom wasn’t exactly making binding legal commitments.”

The words land hard. Theo flinches. I take a step forward before catching myself. “You let me spend weeks fixing that house.” My voice comes out raw. “Weeks, Dom. Replacing boards, patching the roof. Knowing the whole time it would be demolished.”

Dominic sets down his phone. “You needed something to do. I didn’t see the harm.”

“The harm is you lied.” The words taste bitter. “Every time I mentioned the repairs, every time I talked about the sale, you could have told me the truth.”

“You could have asked for specifics,” Dominic says, crossing his arms. “But you didn’t want details, did you? You wanted to play carpenter and avoid reality. Hide in your manual labor instead of dealing with the actual estate.”

“I shouldn’t have to interrogate my own brother to get the truth.”

“Please, both of you,” Theo says, stepping between us like he used to when we were kids, always the peacemaker, always trying to hold us together.

His hands are shaking slightly. Too much coffee or too much stress, probably both.

“This isn’t helping anyone. What’s done is done. We need to focus on moving forward.”