I pull up three more images—gathering space at dusk, pedestrian flow creating natural pause points, residential view corridor capturing both neighborhood integration and waterfront access.
"These aren't accidents," I say. "Sam designed these moments. I'm just capturing what she built."
The room is quiet. The Developer nods slowly, makes another note.
Castellano studies the screen. His jaw shifts slightly. "And you believe these moments justify the cost increase."
"I believe they're what differentiate this project in your market," I say. "Whether that justifies the cost is your call. But from a marketing perspective, Sam's adjustments give me thestrongest possible visual story. Without them, we're selling on square footage and finishes alone."
Castellano doesn't respond immediately. He looks at the images, back at me, back at the images.
The Developer clears his throat. "What's the timeline for final marketing photography?"
"Six weeks," I say. "Assuming we lock the design by end of month."
"And these sight lines translate across different unit types?"
"Yes. I've mapped the view corridors from each floor plate. They work."
The Developer looks at Castellano, then at Sam. "Let's proceed. The marketing case is strong. Agreed?" Two other Board members nod. One says, "Agreed."
Castellano holds my gaze for a half-second longer than necessary. Then he nods once. "Agreed."
The Developer moves to the next agenda item. I step back to my corner. Sam returns to the screen, advances to the timeline slide, continues presenting.
Castellano needed proof of value, I had the data to provide it. He asked a question, I answered it, and the Board moved forward.
The Board members file out twenty minutes later. I pack my laptop, coil the charging cable, zip the bag. Sam's talking to the Developer near the door—something about permit timelines, her posture more relaxed than it was thirty minutes ago.
Castellano stops in the doorway. Doesn't say anything. Just looks at me for two seconds, and walks out.
I finish packing.
Sam crosses the room, hands in her blazer pockets. "Thank you," she says quietly. "For stepping in."
I look at her, genuinely surprised. "I was defending our work."
Her mouth curves slightly. "I know. That's why it mattered."
"The photos did the heavy lifting," I say.
"No," Sam says quietly. "You did."
She holds my gaze for a few seconds, then she turns and gathers her materials from the table.
I watch her for a second, then sling my bag over my shoulder and push through the glass doors.
Castellano's still in the hallway. Talking to another Board member near the elevators. His eyes track me as I pass. I can’t read his expression.
He nods once.
I nod back.
Chapter thirty-nine
Sam
I'm three pages into the updated site plan when my screen flashes. The sender line makes my jaw tighten before I've read a single word.
