Chapter 2 - The Silent Screen
The sudden burst of audio startled everyone in the room. Dad turned around, scowling at the television screen as if the inanimate object had personally insulted him, while Emily hastily tried to lower the volume with shaking fingers. But before she could hit the mute button, a striking headline flashed across the lower third of the screen in bold, glowing red letters: BREAKING GLOBAL BUSINESS: THE MYSTERIOUS TECH TITAN STEPPING OUT OF THE SHADOWS.
"Turn that off," Mom muttered, rubbing her temples. "We are having a serious family discussion here."
Emily clicked the remote frantically, but the channel was locked in the middle of a live broadcast feed. The news anchor—a familiar, serious-faced woman sitting behind a high-gloss anchor desk in New York—was speaking with an intensity that commanded total silence across the room.
"While Silicon Valley and Wall Street have spent the past five years speculating over the identity of the secretive mastermind behind Apex Global Solutions, the mystery has finally been solved," the anchor announced, her voice echoing off the expensive wallpaper of my parents' living room. "Today, Forbes magazine has officially released its annual power list, naming the young visionary who single-handedly restructured international tech logistics, accumulated a net worth exceeding four billion dollars, and quietly advised the world's largest sovereign wealth funds."
David scoffed, crossing his arms again as he turned his attention halfway toward the screen. "Must be some hedge fund billionaire in Manhattan. Probably got handed a trust fund at birth."
"Forbes has confirmed that the founder and CEO of Apex Global Solutions—an entity valued at over 4.8 billion dollars—does not come from old money," the anchor continued, a large graphic sliding onto the screen behind her. "She started her enterprise out of a tiny apartment with zero venture capital a decade ago. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the most powerful entrepreneur under thirty-five in the western hemisphere: Maya Richardson."
The living room froze.
The grandfather clock ticked once. Then twice. The sound was deafening.
David’s head snapped from the television screen straight toward me, his eyes bulging as if he were looking at a ghost. Dad’s mouth opened slightly, his color draining away until he looked remarkably pale. Mom dropped her hand from her forehead, her gaze fixed rigidly on the flat-screen monitor, where a massive, professional portrait of me—shot for the cover of Forbes magazine in a tailored charcoal suit—was beaming down at them in high definition.
Maya Richardson: The Woman Who Controls the Global Tech Market.
Emily dropped the remote control. It hit the hardwood floor with a sharp plastic clatter that made everyone jump.
"That... that's a graphics glitch," David stammered, pointing a trembling finger at the television. "That's some kind of AI-generated deepfake news segment. It has to be."
"Quiet, David," Dad whispered, his voice cracking horribly.
On the screen, the anchor was now broadcasting footage from an international economic summit in Geneva, showing me walking across a stage flanked by global finance ministers and tech giants, accepting an innovation award while thousands of industry leaders stood and applauded. The chyron beneath the footage read: Apex Global Solutions CEO Maya Richardson arrives in Geneva for the Global Economic Forum.
Mom turned her head slowly, looking from the television screen back to me. Her lower lip trembled. "Maya... what is this? What is happening on that screen?"
I didn't answer immediately. I simply adjusted the strap of my purse over my shoulder, standing completely relaxed in the middle of their expensive, judgmental living room. The dynamic in the house had shifted so violently that the air pressure felt different.
"It’s just a project," I said quietly, throwing David’s exact words back in his face. "One of those little projects I keep working on behind a laptop screen."
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Dad took an involuntary step backward, his legs hitting the edge of his leather armchair. "Four... four billion dollars? Your mother and I... we thought you were unemployed! You live in a rented townhouse in Chicago!"
"I own the building, Dad," I corrected mildly. "And the three adjacent commercial blocks. But I didn't think you’d be interested in real estate portfolios. After all, it doesn't come with a pension plan."
