Marcus walked up, tablet in hand. His face was gray.

“The county is sending an auditor tomorrow,” she said. “They’re going to ask why we didn’t do the geotech survey. Why we skimped on drainage. Why we bought substandard rebar.”

So they bought cheaper rebar. Thinner gauge. Elena had to approve the change order. She’d signed it with a heavy hand. By month five, they were three weeks behind. The concrete pour was scheduled for a Tuesday, but the cheaper rebar had arrived bent. Straightening it cost two days. Then a surprise rain—unusually heavy for October—flooded the south approach because no one had budgeted for the temporary drainage study.

Elena had argued. “Marcus, Broken Creek has shale underneath. If we hit unexpected hardness, our drilling costs triple.”

Elena Vasquez had been a project manager for fifteen years. She knew the rhythms of construction like she knew her own heartbeat: the early morning hum of generators, the squeal of leveling lasers, the smell of wet concrete and ambition.

“It’s fine,” Marcus said. “We’ll pull from materials.”

That drainage study would have cost $8,000.