Chapter 30
THIRTY
It was a long weekend, and Grant’s texts were short and always shot off between whatever tasks Russ was punishing him with.
I spent the entire weekend at Matchify with Katie, Jackie, Nick, and Brooke, trying to create a backup plan in the event Vantive decided they didn’t want to pursue funding.
It was productive, at least. By the time Sunday night rolled around, the Jim & Pam room was littered with takeout boxes, and the glass walls covered with so much dry-erase marker they looked like murder boards.
It kept me busy enough to prevent my brain from exploring territory I really didn’t want it to venture into.
It had been easier to feel confident about things when Grant had been here with me physically.
With him away, I found myself wondering how persuasive Russ could be or whether the distance might shift his perspective.
I clutched the Long night ahead—sleep tight type of texts he sent me with a death grip.
Monday morning arrived with Grant’s empty chair and a heavy silence from the absent Truth Machine.
With sheer grit and power of will, I focused my brain on my task list for the day, which had grown immensely as a result of the murder board and group discussions. We had a board meeting coming up this week, which meant a metric ton of prep work.
I’d checked off more than three-quarters of the list and was feeling accomplished when three o’clock rolled around and Brooke knocked and opened my door.
I finished typing my sign-off on an email, then looked up.
My face fell. “What?”
She didn’t say anything. She just stood there, looking like a messenger preparing herself to be shot down.
I stood. “Just tell me. Whatever it is.”
“The Sentinel article is out.”
I stared at her, not breathing, not reacting. Not outwardly, at least.
The Sentinel article is out. I didn’t know what those words meant. I didn’t know there was going to be an article. Not without Grant.
Stay calm, Vivian.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll check it out.”
She hesitated. “Do you want me to stay while you read it?”
The idea that I might need someone by my side implied things I really didn’t want implied. “Thanks, but that’s okay.”
Looking doubtful, she nodded. “Also, I know you’re kind of in the thick of it, but that TechConnect Mixer that Lauren from Stratus Capital emailed you about is in two days.”
I shook my head. A business mixer was the last thing on my mind right now. And depending on what this article was like, it was very possible that Stratus Capital—or any other VC firm, for that matter—wouldn’t want to touch Matchify with a ten-foot pole.
“Got it,” Brooke said. “I’ll reach out and let them know we won’t be there.”
“Wait.”
Brooke stopped and looked a question at me.
I finally took a breath. I might not be able to do a social event like the mixer, but I needed to do something. My first priority had to be keeping Matchify’s options open.
“Maybe you can ask if Lauren would be open to a meeting to discuss funding?”
Brooke nodded. “Good idea. I’ll ask.”
Once she’d left, I took a few calming breaths before sitting down again and Googling The Sentinel. I clicked on their website link.
The headline was right at the top of the page.
Matchify’s CEO Breaks Her Own Algorithm
Beneath it, the byline read, The Sentinel Editorial Team
Not Grant. Of course not. He wasn’t on their editorial team. But it was vague, and it felt intentionally so, like a grenade chucked my way from the shadows.
The article began with an explanation of what Matchify was and what it professed to do, then segued into my role as founder and CEO.
Some of it was a rehash of what Tanner’s article had said, but it got worse.
Someone had done their homework. The piece dug into old investor tensions, speculated about Matchify’s algorithmic accuracy via quotes from failed relationships formed on the app, then dove into the connection between Grant and me—including on the 12% figure.
And then there was the kicker.
A former boyfriend of Vivian West’s was contacted for comment on the situation.
“Vivian was always all about the numbers and data. Being with her was a little bit like dating the human version of Excel. Kind of rigid, you know? It’s hard to have a relationship with someone like that, but maybe some guys are into that thing. I wish her and that guy the best.”
The words flickered in front of my face. Rigid. Human version of Excel.
I forced myself to keep reading, but I barely registered the last two paragraphs of the article.
I’d just deleted Chase’s text, but it felt like I’d cut off the head of Hydra, and more had regrown in its place.
I scrolled back up to the quote from Chase and reread it. My stomach swam, and I remembered what Grant had said about throwing up after his first negative review. I might have a similar reaction.
This wasn’t a personal text on my phone. This was an article in one of the foremost publications in the country. People thousands of miles away would read Chase’s words and know the very things about me I least wanted known. My worst fears about myself on display for anyone and everyone to consume.
Why would anyone trust such an unlovable woman to create something they could use to find love for themselves?
And then I remembered what Grant had said next. Don’t let a man who didn’t have the capacity to appreciate one of the best things about you pull you down even a second longer.
I breathed out, long and slow, as controlled as I could be when my body was shaking. I pulled out my phone with jittery hands and tapped my text thread with Grant, then scrolled up until I found the text I wanted.
You’re so intense. It’s my favorite thing about you. Never dim your light for anyone.
I tried to inhale the words like they were pure oxygen. My heart steadied, and I typed into the text bar.
Vivian
Did you see the article?
My computer dinged, and I glanced up to see a new email from Vantive.
I clenched my eyes shut. Given the timing of the email, I had little doubt what it was about.
Part of me wanted to ignore it, maybe even send it to my trash folder unread.
I clicked on it instead. Ignoring problems didn’t make them go away.
The email was barely three lines long, and even fewer words mattered: re-evaluated the reputational risk and have decided to formally step back from funding discussions at this time.
Vantive had officially pulled out. Our plans to expand Matchify had just been obliterated, and it was my fault.