The bank balance showed thirty-one days of payroll.
Evan Ross turned his laptop toward cofounder Mei Tan. Their software helped independent pharmacies order generic drugs, but two chains had delayed contracts and a distributor had raised integration fees.
“We tell the team Friday,” Mei said.
“If we tell them, they leave before we close the deals.”
“If we don’t, they sign leases and book weddings.”
Evan spent the week calling investors who had once told him to stay in touch. They stayed in touch for fourteen-minute conversations, then passed. On Thursday, a chain offered a pilot if the startup would customize inventory reports for free. The work required most of the engineering team for two months.
Evan wanted to accept and use the signed pilot to raise a bridge round. Mei called it borrowed evidence. The customer could leave without paying enough to cover the work.
At Friday’s meeting, they disclosed the cash balance and offered employees a choice: stay through the month with guaranteed pay, or leave immediately with two weeks’ severance. Five left. Seven stayed, partly because the job market was weak.
The smaller team declined the custom pilot and simplified the product for single-store pharmacies. Sales remained too slow.
On day twenty-eight, Evan and Mei closed the company. Final payroll cleared. Vendor bills did not. The distributor sued and settled for equipment, code rights, and a payment plan personally guaranteed by Evan.
Six months later, Mei joined a hospital system. Evan delivered groceries at night while negotiating the debt. Former employees met for drinks without inviting either founder.
One pharmacy continued using an offline copy of the software. Its owner emailed Evan whenever it prevented an overorder.
He saved the messages in a folder named Proof, though he no longer knew what they proved.
