Page 30 of Wrangled By the Minotaur
The words feel like a confession, a statement of intent that I’ve never articulated so clearly before. Beside me, I feel Frankie’s approval in the way her hand settles more firmly against my horn, claiming me even as I expose my darkest truths.
“Which brings us to your current work here in the valley,” Sage says, picking up her pen again with renewed focus. “Because according to my research, you’ve been buying up quite a bit of agricultural land.”
“I have.” I straighten in my chair, moving onto ground where I feel more confident. “But not for the reasons people think.”
“What are the real reasons?”
This is it—the story that could change everything, that could finally give the people of Sunnybrook a reason to trust me instead of fear me.
“One of my former clients—Caldwell Development Partners—has been trying to operate in this area for the past six months. They’re using a network of shell corporations to target farmland for commercial development.”
Sage’s eyebrows shoot up, and I can see her journalistic instincts fully engaging. “Shell corporations?”
“Valley Agricultural Holdings, Central Coast Investments, Santa Ynez Properties—they’re all fronts for Caldwell.” I let some of my old corporate ruthlessness creep into my voice, the predatory focus that once made me so effective. “They’ve done this to other towns. Target struggling farms, offer just enough to solve immediate financial problems, then flip the land to big box stores and strip malls.”
I watch Sage’s pen move rapidly across her notepad, and I know I’ve given her exactly what she needs, including names, specific companies, and a clear pattern of predatory behavior that she can investigate and verify herself.
“And you’re buying these properties to prevent that?”
“Among other things. The Hendersons’ dairy farm, the Morettis’ vineyard, three other family operations that were facing foreclosure… I’ve purchased them all in the past six months.”
“For development?”
“For preservation. The families stay on as tenants, paying what they can afford while they get back on their feet. The intention is for them to eventually buy the land back and maintain their family operations.”
Sage looks up from her notes, clearly intrigued. “That’s… not exactly a traditional business model.”
“No, it’s not. But it preserves the peace and quiet I came here to find.” My tail gives a small twitch of satisfaction. “Caldwell is systematic in their approach. They identify vulnerable properties, wait for financial pressure to mount, then swoop in with offers that seem generous but are actually well below market value. The families are so desperate they don’t realize they’re being taken advantage of.”
“And you’re disrupting that pattern.”
“I’m offering an alternative. Fair market value, flexible terms, and the opportunity for families to maintain their agriculturalheritage instead of watching it get paved over for another chain restaurant.”
I can see the possibilities spinning in Sage’s mind. “This is a significant story,” she says finally. “If I can verify these connections, if my research supports your claims… this could help the community stay vigilant against these developers.”
“I hope so.”
Sage nods slowly, then clicks off her recording device. “I think I have what I need for now. I’ll need to verify some of this information, of course, but assuming everything checks out…”
“When will the story run?” Frankie asks.
“Thursday’s edition. That gives me time to do proper fact-checking and reach out to Caldwell for comment.” She looks between us with concern. “Are you both prepared for the reaction? Because once this is public, there’s no going back.”
I feel Frankie’s gaze on me, heavy with trust and something that might be hope. When she reaches over and takes my massive hand in hers, threading our fingers together, I know we’re making this choice together.
“We’re prepared,” she says, and the certainty in her voice steadies something in my chest.
The drive back feels differentfrom our trip into town. I navigate my SUV slowly through the downtown streets, well aware of people turning to watch us pass, some pointing, others pulling out their phones. The attention feels more deliberate somehow, as if we’re both aware that we’ve crossed a line we can’t uncross. Even through the tinted windows, I can practically feel the speculation building in our wake.
“Having regrets?” I ask quietly as we turn onto the private road leading to my property, finally away from the curious stares of Main Street.
“About the interview? No.” Frankie reaches over and takes my hand where it rests on the gear shift. “About letting the whole town know I’m with you? Also no.”
I park in my usual spot near the front entrance, but neither of us moves to get out immediately. The engine ticks as it cools, and through the windshield I can see the peaceful expanse of my property stretching toward the distant hills.
“Even though Tom thinks I’m taking advantage of you? Even though people are staring?”
She looks down at our joined hands, then back at me. Her mouth opens slightly, closes again. I watch her chest rise and fall as she takes a breath she doesn’t release right away.
