Managing Partner, Vance Capital Partners
This is a rejection.
A form letter rejection.
After a meeting that wentperfectly. After Vance said he was "very impressed".
Victoria.
The thought crashes into me with the force of a train. Grant told me about seeing her with Vance at his luncheon. He tried not to sound too worried about it, but I could tell he was trying to hide his concern, so I wouldn’t freak out.
Victoria, who deliberately sought me out at that café to undermine my confidence. Who had us followed and photographed. Who sent that picture to my father. Who has been systematically dismantling every aspect of Grant's happiness bit by bit.
Victoria, who was apparently sleeping with Lawrence Vance. Or at least friendly enough to whisper in his ear. To influence his decisions.
To kill my investment deal.
She did this.
My pitch was solid—I know it was solid. Vance's response was genuine. The market research, the product differentiation,the sustainable sourcing model—all of it was exactly what investors in this space are looking for.
But none of that matters when a glamorous billionaire ex-wife decides you're a threat.
I read the email again, and this time I can see the lie in every word. The careful corporate language designed to obscure the truth. "After careful consideration" means after Victoria got to him. "Strategic priorities" means keeping your powerful girlfriend happy. "We wish you the best" means you were collateral damage in someone else's revenge plot.
I sit there, staring at nothing.
Feeling nothing.
Because what is there left to feel?
Two days ago, my father looked me in the eye and told me I was on my own. That I was making the biggest mistake of my life. That he wouldn't be a grandfather to my children.
But at least I still had Essence. Still had the dream I'd built with my own hands, the proof that I could create something meaningful without anyone's help.
Except I can't. Because Victoria Cross decided I don't get to have it.
The laugh that escapes is sharp and bitter. Of course she did. Of course she couldn't just be satisfied with destroying Grant's relationship with his best friend. She had to come for me too. Had to make sure I understood exactly how powerless I am in her world.
I could have the best business plan in the world—and I did. I could work harder than anyone, be more passionate, more dedicated—and I am. None of it matters when someone with more money and power decides to take you down.
The unfairness of it makes me want to scream.
Vance was my best shot. The investor most likely to understand the artisanal fragrance market, most alignedwith my values around sustainability and ethical sourcing. I researched him for months before ever requesting that meeting.
There are other investors, technically. Other venture capital firms. But Vance would have been the perfect fit.
My phone buzzes on the desk. Grant, probably checking in.
I can't look at it. Can't talk to him right now. Because if I tell him about this email, he'll know immediately what happened. He'll blame himself for Victoria's actions. He'll want to fix it—call in favors, make introductions, probably just write me a check himself.
And that's exactly what I can't let happen.
The irony is almost funny. I'm sitting here, my dream dying, and the solution is literally one phone call away. Grant could fund Essence himself without even noticing the money left his bank account.
But accepting that would mean proving my father right. Would mean becoming exactly what he accused me of being—a girl who threw her life away for a rich man.
The thought makes my stomach turn.
