Sugar sugar baby

[40] Prop

By the end of the month, everything was moving at breakneck speed. The platform was live, and to my surprise—and maybe even a bit of my own disbelief—it was gaining traction fast. The team had done an incredible job setting everything up, and the marketing campaign Rachel spearheaded had brought in a wave of early users. Word spread quickly, and before long, we were attracting attention from investors—real, high-profile investors who were interested in funding the platform's next phase of growth.

It should have felt like a dream come true. This was what I had been working for—investors taking notice, money on the table, a growing user base. But the whole time, I felt strangely... disconnected, like I was watching everything happen from the sidelines. The company was mine in name, but it didn't feel like it. The decisions weren't mine anymore. The team, as talented as they were, had taken over, and every time I tried to assert myself, I got that same polite brush-off.

I tried to remind myself that it was all for the best—that the end result mattered more than my ego—but it was hard to shake the feeling that something was off. And nowhere was that more obvious than in our first big investor meeting.

We were gathered in the conference room of one of LA's biggest venture capital firms. The air was thick with the smell of leather and expensive cologne, and the room itself looked like something out of a luxury hotel. There were crystal glasses on the table, untouched bottles of sparkling water, and the soft hum of air conditioning that you barely noticed unless you were trying to distract yourself from something.

The investors—three of them, all dressed in sleek, tailored suits that screamed money—sat across from us, their faces unreadable. I had been introduced as the founder, the guy with the vision, the one who started it all. But from the moment the meeting started, it became clear that they didn't see me that way.

I stood at the front of the room, preparing to give my pitch. But before I could even start, one of the investors, Greg, a tall, silver-haired man with the kind of smug smile that made you want to punch him, raised his hand slightly.

"Before we dive into the presentation," Greg said, leaning back in his chair, "we've already been briefed by your team. We're aware of the traction you've gained and the numbers. We're really here to discuss the finer details."

I paused, caught off guard. The pitch I had prepared was already being sidelined. "Uh, sure," I said, glancing at the team seated beside me. "But I'd still like to give you a quick overview—just to make sure we're all on the same page."

Greg smiled, but it was the kind of smile you gave someone when you were humoring them. "Of course, of course. Go ahead."

I launched into my pitch, doing my best to explain the platform's key features and what made it unique. But as I spoke, I couldn't shake the feeling that the investors weren't really listening. They were nodding politely, but their eyes kept flicking over to Samantha and Marco, as if waiting for them to chime in.

By the time I wrapped up, Greg and the other investors were already turning their attention away from me, shifting in their seats as if the real conversation was about to begin.

"Thank you, Tristan," Greg said, offering me a brief handshake. His grip was firm, but his eyes were already on Samantha as he continued. "Now, let's talk specifics. Samantha, what are your projections for the next quarter? And how do you plan to scale?"

Samantha leaned forward, her expression calm and professional. "We're anticipating a 30% increase in user acquisition over the next three months, primarily due to our partnerships with key industry players. We've already secured several collaborations, and we're negotiating more as we speak."

The investors nodded, clearly more interested in what she had to say than anything I'd just pitched. As Samantha continued to outline the scaling strategy, I sat there, feeling like a ghost in the room. It was my company—my idea—but the investors weren't even looking at me anymore.