"She looks strict."
James laughed.
"She was."
"Mine too."
Marcus looked around the office.
"Did you know you'd end up here?"
"No."
"Did you think you'd be rich?"
"Also no."
Destiny smiled.
"Did you think you'd go viral for getting kicked out of your own table?"
James leaned back.
"Definitely no."
They laughed.
Then Marcus became serious.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yes."
"When those people said that stuff, how did you stay calm?"
James considered whether to give the polished answer.
He decided not to.
"I wasn't calm inside."
"You looked calm."
"Those are different things."
"So what did you do?"
"I tried to decide what outcome I wanted before I decided what emotion deserved control."
Destiny frowned.
"That's hard."
"Very."
"What did you want?"
James looked at both teenagers.
"At first? My table."
They laughed again.
"Then I realized the table wasn't the real problem."
Marcus nodded slowly.
"Did you want revenge?"
James did not answer immediately.
"For about ten seconds, yes."
That surprised them.
"I imagined saying exactly the thing that would make the whole room turn on them."
"You kind of did," Destiny said.
"No. The facts did."
James folded his hands.
"There's a difference between making consequences visible and enjoying someone's collapse. If you enjoy the collapse too much, it starts changing what you choose next."
Destiny looked toward the skyline.
"Did you forgive them?"
"I stopped needing them to suffer. That's not exactly the same thing, but it's close enough for me."
After the students left, Sarah came into his office holding a tablet.
"You have a strange application."
"For what?"
"The Second Chances Fellowship."
James had approved the program three months earlier after several portfolio companies asked how to evaluate applicants rebuilding after serious professional mistakes. The fellowship funded training and supervised placement for people who could demonstrate accountability, restitution where appropriate, and measurable behavioral change.
"Who?"
Sarah turned the tablet around.
Bradford Whitmore.