The Stark project changed everything, but not always in ways David had anticipated.
The positive changes were obvious: financial stability, professional credibility, increased capacity to pursue the Foundation's mission. With twelve million in design fees, they could fund community projects for years, hire more staff, expand operations without constantly worrying about cash flow.
But the visibility brought complications.
"We're getting inquiries from everywhere," Maria reported, looking overwhelmed by the flood of interest. "Other municipalities want to talk about development projects. Private developers are asking about partnerships. Universities are interested in campus planning. Mr. Chen, we're a five-person architecture firm. We can't handle this volume."
"We need to scale up," Patricia observed. "But carefully. We can't compromise quality just to capture opportunities."
They spent a week strategizing about growth: how many new architects to hire, what types of projects to pursue, how to maintain their values while operating at larger scale. David insisted that every project, regardless of size or prestige, had to align with their core mission of human-centered design.
"That means saying no to a lot of money," James warned. "There are developers who'd pay premium rates for your work but want buildings that maximize profit over people."
"Then we say no," David replied. "The Stark contract gives us the luxury of being selective. Let's use it."
They hired carefully: three new architects, all talented, all with demonstrated commitment to socially conscious design. They also brought on additional administrative staff, expanding the formal architecture practice while keeping the Foundation's broader operations separate.
Meanwhile, work on the Stark campus began. David spent three days a week at the site in Westchester, working with Morrison & Associates to translate his designs into reality. It was exhilarating and terrifying, seeing his vision manifested at this scale, knowing that millions of people would eventually see and judge this work.
Tony Stark visited the site twice in the first month, each time arriving without warning in sports cars that cost more than most houses. The first visit was clearly an inspection, Tony walked the property, asking technical questions, challenging design choices, and generally being as difficult as David had heard he could be.
"This collaborative space," Tony said, pointing at a section under construction. "You've got it positioned between the materials science lab and the bioengineering facility. Why?"
"Encouraging cross-pollination," David explained. "Materials scientists and bioengineers don't traditionally work together much, but there's huge potential at that intersection. The space is designed to facilitate chance encounters and spontaneous collaboration."
"Hmm." Tony studied the layout. "And if they hate each other? If the materials people are rigid traditionalists and the bio people are chaotic experimentalists?"
"Then the space doesn't force interaction, but it enables it. See these sliding partitions? They can configure the area for anything from large group events to individual quiet work. Flexibility is built into every design element."
Tony nodded slowly. "Okay. I like it. Still overengineered though. These support columns, "
"Are designed to last fifty years minimum with zero maintenance and support potential future vertical expansion. I'm building for durability."
"Expensive."
"Cost-effective over the building's lifetime."
Tony smiled slightly. "You don't back down much, do you?"
"Not when I'm right."
"Good. I hate working with yes-men. They're boring and useless." Tony moved on to examine other elements, continuing his interrogation.
The second visit was different. Tony arrived late evening, when most workers had left. David was still on site, reviewing the day's progress with the Morrison & Associates project manager.
"Burning the midnight oil?" Tony approached with coffee cups from some expensive cafe. "Here. You look like you need this."
David accepted gratefully. "Thank you. What brings you here at this hour?"
"Insomnia. Figured I'd check on my investment." Tony studied the construction in progress. "It's coming together nicely. Better than I expected, honestly."
"High praise," David said dryly.
"I don't give praise lightly. When I say it's good, I mean it." Tony turned to look at David directly. "I've been asking around about you. David Chen, the mysterious architect from Queens. You appeared three years ago with basically no background, started doing community development work, and somehow built a model that actually works. That's unusual."
David's stomach tightened. "I prefer to let my work speak for itself."
"Yeah, you're very private. No social media presence, minimal press, even your website is deliberately understated. Most architects at your talent level are peacocks, they want everyone to see their brilliance. You hide yours. Why?"
"I'm not interested in fame. I'm interested in building things that matter."
"Bullshit. I mean, you are interested in building things that matter, that part's obvious. But the hiding? That's something else. You're deliberately staying below the radar." Tony's eyes were sharp, assessing. "Question is: why? What are you hiding?"
David chose his words carefully. "I'm not hiding anything illegal or harmful. I'm just a person who values privacy and wants to focus on work rather than publicity."
"Fair enough. But Chen, word of advice: the Stark contract makes you un-hideable. People are going to look at you more closely now. Make sure you're comfortable with what they might find."
It was eerily similar to Catherine Meridian's warning, and coming from Tony Stark, it carried different weight. This wasn't a threat, it was genuine advice from someone who understood visibility's costs.
"I appreciate the warning," David said. "I've got nothing to hide that matters. I just prefer keeping my personal and professional lives separate."
"Good luck with that. Fame doesn't respect boundaries." Tony finished his coffee. "But for what it's worth, I think you're the real deal. You're not in this for ego or money, you actually care about the work. That's rarer than you'd think in architecture. Or any field, really."
After Tony left, David stood in the construction site, surrounded by the physical manifestation of his vision, thinking about visibility and vulnerability. Both Tony and Catherine had warned him: success brought exposure. He was no longer invisible.
But maybe that was okay. Maybe the best defense wasn't hiding, it was being so legitimate, so valuable, so embedded in communities that attacking him would be attacking something larger than one person.
That had been the strategy all along, really. Build something worth protecting. Make it matter to enough people that it couldn't be easily destroyed.
The Foundation had survived Meridian's pressure campaign. It would survive increased scrutiny too. It had to.
Because the clock was still ticking: twelve months until the Chitauri invasion.
And David Chen had work to do.