“Before we discuss projections,” he said, “I’d like to understand three discrepancies in the underlying data.”
Greg’s smile disappeared.
Recognition moved across his face slowly, then all at once. According to David, the color drained from him so quickly that one partner reached toward the water pitcher.
“David?” Greg whispered.
David’s expression did not change. “Mr. Reynolds, please answer the question on slide fourteen.”
He did not mention me. He did not mention the wedding, Malibu, Thanksgiving, or the way Greg had treated him. He did not need to.
The numbers spoke with more force than anger ever could.
David asked why the company counted free-trial accounts as active paying users. He asked why customer-acquisition costs had doubled while retention fell. He identified licensing expenses hidden under “strategic operations.” Another partner questioned whether the supposedly proprietary platform relied almost entirely on tools available from outside vendors.
Greg tried to redirect.
“You have to understand the vision—”
“We understand the vision,” David said. “We are evaluating the business.”
Greg blamed market timing. He blamed his finance team. He said the firm needed only one significant capital injection to stabilize. With each answer, the gap between his family-room bravado and his professional competence widened.
Finally, David turned to the chief financial officer.
“If Horizon does not invest, how many weeks of runway remain?”
The CFO looked at Greg, then down at the table.
“Six,” she said.
Greg had told my parents the company was months away from becoming profitable.
David thanked them for the presentation. He explained, calmly and precisely, that Horizon would not invest in a company with unreliable reporting, unsustainable spending, weak retention, and no defensible technology advantage.
“This decision is based solely on the company presented today,” he said. “Our capital belongs to our investors. Personal familiarity cannot improve a broken model, and it would be unethical to pretend otherwise.”
That sentence destroyed the story Greg had already begun constructing—that David had rejected him out of spite.
The firm documented every concern. The full partnership committee signed the decision. Greg was escorted out not because David wanted to humiliate him, but because the meeting was over.
Within two hours, my phone began to ring.
I was sitting on our back porch with chamomile tea, reviewing notes for work, when my mother’s name appeared. I let the first call end. Then came my father. Chloe. An aunt. Greg. My mother again.
Messages stacked across the screen.
CALL ME NOW.