Billionaires The Founding of Facebook

parties, maybe even helped get Mark laid with a Victoria’s Secret model—but in 
Eduardo’s view, he wasn’t involved in thefacebook. Eduardo was the CFO, he’d 
put up the money that had made thefacebook possible, he was still the one 

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funding their adventure in California—and even though he was in New York, he 
was still supposed to be calling the shots. 
After receiving the letter, Mark had left him a bunch of messages on his voice 
mail—more entreaties for Eduardo to move out there to California, more stories 
about how great it was out there, more reassurances that everything was going 
great with the company and there was no reason for them to bicker about stupid 
things that didn’t matter anyway—in his bizarre worldview. Finally, Eduardo had 
called him back, just a little while ago—and things had gone from bad to worse. 
Mark had told him that he’d met the two investors Sean Parker had told Eduardo 
about, and they were really interested in making an angel investment—basically 
giving thefacebook some money so it could continue growing at the same rapid 
rate. Thefacebook needed the money, since it was beginning to fall into serious 
debt; the more people who were signing up, the more servers that were needed 
to handle the traffic—and soon they were going to have to hire more people to 
handle everything that was going on. 
But to Eduardo, that was all beside the point. In his opinion, Mark had 
deliberately ignored the sentiment of his letter—and was taking business 
meetings without Eduardo being present. He wasn’t simply stepping on 
Eduardo’s toes; he and Sean Parker seemed like they were trying to cut off 
Eduardo’s feet. 
Maybe Mark didn’t think Eduardo was serious, that the letter had been just a 
method of letting off steam. And maybe it was, in a way. But Mark’s attitude was 
really pissing Eduardo off; in Eduardo’s opinion, they were out there, living it up 
in California on Eduardo’s dime. The house in California? The computer 
equipment? The servers? It was all coming out of the bank account that Eduardo 
had opened, as far as Eduardo was concerned. That Eduardo had financed from 
his own, personal funds. Eduardo was paying for everything, in his mind, and 
Mark was ignoring him. Treating him like an angry girlfriend that he just didn’t 
give a shit about anymore. 
Maybe Eduardo was overreacting—but now, three days later, fuming 
somewhere in New York—he was growing more and more certain that he had to 
do something to show Mark exactly how he felt. 

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He had to send a message—one that Mark couldn’t simply ignore. 
We can picture what must have happened next: Eduardo spinning through the 
revolving glass door of a midtown Bank of America office, his face a mask of 
pure determination, his oxford shirt soaked with sweat from either a subway ride 
or twenty minutes trapped in a traffic-bound cab. 
He moves right past the teller stations that run along one side of the wide, 
rectangular front area of the bank and heads directly to one of the branch 
associate cubicles. By the time the balding, middle-aged banker gestures him 
into a seat and asks what he could do for him, Eduardo has already pulled his 
bankbook out of his pocket. He slams the little booklet onto the desk in front of 
the man and gives him his most serious, adult stare. 
“I want to freeze my bank account. And cancel all existing checks and lines of 
credit attached to this account.” 
As the man begins the process, assuredly Eduardo feels a burst of adrenaline 
move through him. He must know he is crossing a line—but this was going to 
send Mark a real message, let him know how serious Eduardo is. Really, in 
Eduardo’s mind, it is Mark’s own fault that Eduardo even has the power to do 
such a thing—when Eduardo had first opened the Bank of America account for 
thefacebook, he’d sent Mark the necessary forms to become a cosignatory on 
the account, along with the blank checks that were funding his California 
lifestyle. Mark, being Mark, had never filled out the paperwork. Nor had he ever 
put any of his own money into the company. He’d been perfectly content to live 
off of Eduardo’s funds. As if Eduardo were his own, personal banker. His