Chapter 4

The "Pioneer" Accelerator pitch day arrived.

The auditorium at P.T.U.'s innovation center was packed.

Anxious student founders, faculty, a few local tech journalists.

And us, the judges, on a raised platform at the front.

I sat in the center, flanked by a seasoned P.T.U. engineering professor and a successful alum who'd IPO'd her company last year.

My role today was crucial. Our firm was putting up significant seed money.

I scanned the program. Mark Jenkins was scheduled third.

My stomach twisted a little. Chris and I had decided I wouldn't recuse. His application was weak; he wouldn't make the cut regardless. Confronting him privately before this felt wrong, like I was trying to silence him because of his posts.

The first two pitches were solid. Good ideas, nervous presenters.

Then, Mark Jenkins walked onto the stage.

He looked confident, almost arrogant, in a slightly-too-sharp suit.

He started his presentation, a generic pitch for a social media analytics tool.

His eyes scanned the judges' table as he spoke.

They passed over Professor Davies, then Anya Sharma.

Then they landed on me.

He stopped. Mid-sentence.

His smile froze.

His eyes widened, just a fraction. Recognition. Disbelief.

Then, something else. Panic.

He faltered, losing his place in his slides.

"Uh... so, our projections... our projections show..."

He stared at me, his face slowly turning red.

The room was silent. Everyone could feel the shift.

He knew. He knew who I was.

And he knew I was about to judge his "bootstrapped hustle."