🌆 In late April 2020, as ambulance sirens echoed through the empty streets of Queens, I wasn't just escaping a pandemic—I was running from the death of a dream. My wife, two kids, and I arrived at a rented Airbnb in Massanutten Resort, Virginia, leaving behind a New York City that had become unrecognizable. The once-busy streets were eerily empty, marked only by the constant reminder of crisis: ambulances rushing by, people hurrying past in masks, and the heavy silence of uncertainty in the air. 😷

💭 But as we escaped the chaos of the pandemic, a deeper worry kept growing inside me. After 14 years in finance and an ambitious move from Moscow to New York just eight months earlier, my lifelong dream was falling apart before my eyes. The hedge fund I had planned to launch—my ticket to becoming the next Bill Ackman or Ray Dalio—was crumbling. Bank accounts couldn't be opened, promised seed capital disappeared, and with each passing day, my savings kept shrinking rapidly. From $150K, I watched our safety net drop to $70K, the pressure of supporting my family growing heavier with each passing day. 📉

🏠 Sitting in that quiet Virginia rental, thousands of miles from my homeland and seemingly just as far from my dreams, I faced a truth I had been avoiding: there was no money to be made in my current path, and I needed to change direction—fast. With the practical thinking that comes from desperation, I enrolled in a data analyst course, looking for stability in an unstable world. 🎓

⚡ Then came the call that would change everything.

📱 A friend from New York reached out about his father's startup seeking capital. When he asked me to review their investment materials, I expected standard documentation. Instead, I found what could only be described as the worst financial model I'd ever seen in my career—numbers that didn't add up, logic that made no sense, and forecasts that seemed made up. The revenue projections looked like wishful thinking, and the expense assumptions ignored basic business realities. 📊

💡 In that moment, something clicked. Years of financial expertise came together into a clear purpose. These weren't just wrong numbers on a spreadsheet; they represented dreams at risk—entrepreneurs whose visions could fail not from lack of potential, but from lack of financial guidance. When I offered to rebuild their model for $2,500 and they eagerly agreed, I realized I had stumbled upon not just a project, but a calling. 🎯

🚀 My journey in finance hadn't prepared me to be the next hedge fund titan—it had prepared me for something more meaningful. While my initial company name was Finmodel (admittedly not my best idea), the change to Sorso showed my deeper understanding of what entrepreneurs truly needed: not just financial models, but a partner who could translate complex financial concepts into practical business strategies.

🤝 Since then, every entrepreneur I've worked with has confirmed what I learned in that key moment. Their stories—of resilience, innovation, and determination—mirror my own journey from Moscow to New York, from crisis to opportunity. My role has grown far beyond building financial models; I've become a protector of dreams, helping founders navigate the complex financial challenges that often stop great ideas.

🔍 Looking back, the path seems almost obvious now. My years in finance weren't leading me to manage billion-dollar portfolios—they were preparing me to help other dreamers build lasting businesses. Every complex financial model I analyzed, every market trend I studied, even my own failed hedge fund attempt—all of it was preparing me to be the guide I wish I'd had when starting out. 📈

✨ Today, as I work with entrepreneurs across different industries, I'm reminded daily of why this change was more than just a survival strategy—it was a calling I didn't know I had. Each time I help a founder understand their numbers, improve their operations, or secure important funding, I'm not just building a business; I'm helping protect and support the entrepreneurial spirit that drives innovation and growth. 💪