BrightPath's office is in an old coffee warehouse in DUMBO, Brooklyn, with brick walls and a view of the Manhattan Bridge.

I went in through the back, the way I always do. I didn't change. Same Target cardigan. Same comfortable shoes. Chalk dust on my sleeve.

Ben met me by the kitchen.

“He's here,” Ben said. “In the conference room. He's brought a co-founder and a lot of confidence.”

“He's also brought my voice,” I said. I showed Ben the demo on my phone.

Ben listened for ten seconds. His face went hard.

“That's our library,” he said. “That's you.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to cancel?”

I thought about it.

“No,” I said. “Let's hear him out. Properly. Like we would anyone else.”

Ben looked at me for a moment.

“Grace,” he said. “Is this the guy? From the dinner?”

I'd told him about it on Saturday. I'd needed to tell someone.

“This is the guy,” I said.

Ben shook his head slowly. Then he grinned.

“I'm going to enjoy this,” he said.

“Ben.”

“Professionally,” he said. “I'm going to enjoy it professionally.”