Chapter 33
Evelyn clicked the remote. The screen switched to the framework slide.
"The core logic of the Pine Hill tourism project isn't about building something new. It's about preserving what already exists and letting more people see it."
For the next fifteen minutes, Evelyn didn't read off the slides.
When she talked about the investment rollout, she laid out the three-tier brand gradient in a table, each tier's entry requirements and rental structure clearly marked. When she got to the screening standards for Class S anchor tenants, she called on Mr. King directly.
"Mr. King, you asked a question last time about the cultural experience zone's eighteen-month rent-free period and how we'd cover cash flow. I provided an initial projection then. Today's version has been revised."
She clicked to the projection slide.
"The revised model moves up the brand entry timeline for the consumer traffic zone by two months. The overall positive cash flow point shifts from month fourteen to month twelve."
She highlighted a key figure in the data column.
"The breakeven point aligns with Parker Group's internal investment recovery standards. At the same time, returns during the incubation period haven't been compressed. In fact, because of the optimized brand entry timeline, total ROI increased from twenty-seven percent to twenty-nine percent."
Mr. King pushed up his glasses and jotted down a number in his notebook.
After Evelyn finished with the numbers, the presentation moved to the final slide.
Another photograph.
This time it was an aerial view of Evergreen Avenue at dawn, shot from the rooftop of a seven-story building across from the alley entrance.
In the photo, the entire street's red-brick arcades spread out in the morning light, rooftops sprouting clusters of nameless green plants, rain-washed tiles reflecting varying shades of luster. At the end of the alley stood an old sycamore tree, its canopy shadowing half the street.
Evelyn looked at that photo and paused for two seconds.
"This street's character has been growing for sixty years. It doesn't need to be torn down and rebuilt. What it needs is a way to keep growing. That's what we're doing here."
The audience went quiet for three seconds.
Then applause started. Not the polite, scattered kind. It began in the front row and spread backward, row by row.
Evelyn stood at the podium, remote tucked in her palm, and gave a slight bow.
When the Q&A session started, the first person to raise her hand was the deputy director from the South District Development Committee.
"Ms. Kendall, your cultural experience zone mentions bringing in local cultural IP studios. Do you have specific brands lined up?"
Evelyn didn't hesitate.
"We've reached out to seven brands so far, with three entering preliminary negotiations. The first is a descendant of that sixty-year-old tea house on Evergreen Avenue. He's willing to open a tea culture experience center in the new space. The second is a local textile artisan. His workshop is currently in a small storefront on Evergreen Avenue, but the space isn't large enough for teaching and experiential programs. The third is a local original design brand that creates products inspired by old district architecture."
The deputy director nodded and made a few notes.
The second question came from an investor representative and was pointed.
"Ms. Kendall, the Eastside project you worked on at Ashford Group has a very similar approach to today's proposal. Is there any intellectual property connection between these two projects? Did your Parker Group proposal use any core data from Ashford Group?"
Evelyn's expression didn't change.
"All core files for the Eastside project were formally transferred when I left, with a handover checklist signed and confirmed by Ashford Group's VP of Marketing. All data in today's Pine Hill project proposal comes from public databases and market research I personally conducted after joining Parker Group. The similarity in underlying logic exists because the tourism real estate industry model is universal. There's no IP connection."
She paused for a beat.
"If you have questions about data sources, pages twelve through fifteen in the appendix list the origin and collection time for every data point. Feel free to verify."
The questioner didn't follow up.
The Q&A lasted twenty minutes. Six questions. Evelyn took them one by one, answering at a measured pace, backing up each judgment with specific data or examples.
When the pitch ended, three people from the front row stood and walked toward the podium. Mr. King got there first. He didn't shake hands, just tapped the table.
"Ms. Kendall, send me that revised projection model."
Evelyn nodded.
The second person to approach was the deputy director's assistant, handing over a business card.
"The director would like to meet with you next week to discuss policy support."
The third was an investment director from an industry fund, standing in front of Evelyn with his just-finished notes in hand.
"Ms. Kendall, our fund's investment committee meets next Tuesday. I'm submitting your project today. Can you send the full proposal?"
Evelyn agreed to each request.
Luna stood up from her second-row seat and walked out of the hall. Her notebook was closed, pen cap never removed.
But as she left, she glanced back at Evelyn.
The expression wasn't quite approval. Wasn't surprise either. It was closer to a recalibrated silence.
The crowd gradually dispersed. Evelyn stood by the podium organizing materials, pulling out the USB drive and tucking it into her folder. Her finger pressed the remote clicker twice—the button's resistance reminded her that her palm was sweating.
She'd held the room. The data held. Every question was handled.
But her back was soaked. Her shirt stuck to her spine, cold sweat from her waist to her shoulder blades.
She tucked the folder under her arm and prepared to leave the podium.
A bottle of water appeared in front of her.
No condensation on the bottle. Room temperature.
Cedric stood at the base of the podium steps. He wore a charcoal gray suit today, his tie a shade lighter. Throughout the entire pitch, he'd sat in the back row's far right corner. Evelyn hadn't noticed him while she was onstage.
Evelyn took the water bottle.
Cedric's hand withdrew, sliding into his suit pocket.
"You revised the proposal since last week. That ending section with the urban memory narrative angle—you added that when you worked until eleven last night?"
Evelyn's hand paused on the bottle cap.
She looked up.
"How do you know I worked until eleven?"
"The building's lighting management system keeps records. The last workstation to shut off on the thirty-sixth floor was yours."
Cedric's tone was no different from usual. Stating facts. No emotion.
But Evelyn noticed that when he said this, his gaze didn't land on her face. He was looking toward the entrance to the hall, his eyes fixed on some indeterminate point in the distance.
Like he was deliberately avoiding something.