Ben Mezrich - The Accidental Billionaires: The Founding of Facebook: A Tale of Sex, Money, Genius and Betrayal

The Accidental Billionaires is a dramatic, narrative account based on dozens of interviews, hundreds of sources, and thousands of pages of documents, including records from several court proceedings.

There are a number of differentand often contentiousopinions about some of the events that took place. Trying to paint a scene from the memories of dozens of sourcessome direct witnesses, some indirectcan often lead to discrepancies. I re-created the scenes in the book based on the information I uncovered from documents and interviews, and my best judgment as to what version most closely fits the documentary record. Other scenes are written in a way that describes individual perceptions without endorsing them.

I have tried to keep the chronology as close to exact as possible. In some instances, details of settings and descriptions have been changed or imagined, and identifying details of certain people altered to protect their privacy. Other than the handful of public figures who populate this story, names and personal descriptions have been altered.

I do employ the technique of re-created dialogue. I have based this dialogue on the recollections of participants of the substance of conversations. Some of the conversations recounted in this book took place over long periods of time, in multiple locations, and thus some conversations and scenes were re-created and compressed. Rather than spread these conversations out, I sometimes set these scenes in likely settings.

I address sources more fully in the acknowledgments, but it is appropriate here to thank in particular Will McMullen for introducing me to Eduardo Saverin, without whom this story could not have been written. Mark Zuckerberg, as is his perfect right, declined to speak with me for this book despite numerous requests.

It was probably the third cocktail that did the trick. It was hard for Eduardo to tell for sure, because the three drinks had come in such rapid successionthe empty plastic cups were now stacked accordion style on the windowsill behind himthat he hadnt been able to gauge for certain when the change had occurred. But there was no denying it now, the evidence was all over him. The pleasantly warm flush to his normally sallow cheeks; the relaxed, almost rubbery way he leaned against the windowa stark contrast to his usual calcified, if slightly hunched posture; and most important of all, the easy smile on his face, something hed practiced unsuccessfully in the mirror for two hours before hed left his dorm room that evening. No doubt at all, the alcohol had taken effect, and Eduardo wasnt scared anymore. At the very least, he was no longer overwhelmed with the intense urge to get the fuck out of there.

To be sure, the room in front of him was intimidating: the immense crystal chandelier hanging from the arched, cathedral ceiling; the thick red velvet carpeting that seemed to bleed right out of the regal mahogany walls; the meandering, bifurcated staircase that snaked up toward the storied, ultrasecret, catacombed upper floors. Even the windowpanes behind Eduardos head seemed treacherous, lit from behind by the flickering anger of a bonfire consuming most of the narrow courtyard outside, twists of flame licking at the ancient, pockmarked glass.

This was a terrifying place, especially for a kid like Eduardo. He hadnt grown up poorhed spent most of his childhood being shuttled between upper-middle-class communities in Brazil and Miami before matriculating at Harvardbut he was a complete stranger to the sort of old-world opulence this room represented. Even through the booze, Eduardo could feel the insecurities rumbling deep down in the pit of his stomach. He felt like a freshman all over again, stepping into Harvard Yard for the first time, wondering what the hell he was doing there, wondering how he could possibly belong in a place like that. How he could possibly belong in a place like this.

He shifted against the sill, scanning the crowd of young men that filled most of the cavernous room. A mob, really, bunched together around the pair of makeshift bars that had been set up specifically for the event. The bars themselves were fairly shoddywooden tables that were little more than slabs, starkly out of character in such an austere settingbut nobody noticed, because the bars were staffed by the only girls in the room; matching, bust-heavy blondes in low-cut black tops, brought in from one of the local all-female colleges to cater to the mob of young men.

The mob, in many ways, was even more frightening than the building itself. Eduardo couldnt tell for sure, but he guessed there had to be about two hundred of themall male, all dressed in similar dark blazers and equally dark slacks. Sophomores, mostly; a mix of races, but there was something very similar about all the facesthe smiles that seemed so much easier than Eduardos, the confidence in those two hundred pairs of eyesthese kids werent used to having to prove themselves. They belonged. For most of them, this partythis placewas just a formality.

Eduardo took a deep breath, wincing slightly at the bitter tinge to the air. The ash from the bonfire outside was making its way through the windowpanes, but he didnt move away from his perch against the sill, not yet. He wasnt ready yet.

Instead, he let his attention settle on the group of blazers closest to himfour kids of medium build. He didnt recognize any of them from his classes; two of the kids were blond and preppy-looking, like theyd just stepped off a train from Connecticut. The third was Asian, and seemed a little older, but it was hard to tell for sure. The fourth, howeverAfrican American and very polished-looking, from his grin to his perfectly coiffed hairwas definitely a senior.

Eduardo felt his back stiffen, and he glanced toward the black kids tie. The color of the material was all the verification Eduardo needed. The kid was a senior, and it was time for Eduardo to make his move.