For 3 years, I had lived in a tiny apartment, eating ramen noodles and pouring every dollar back into Neurosync. I’d started with my own savings and a small business loan, supplemented by an angel investment from a tech mentor I’d met during my time at Columbus Tech Incubator.

I worked 18-hour days, all while hearing my father’s voice.

The conference room at Westlake Ventures felt too warm. I adjusted my blazer and glanced at Mia, who gave me a subtle nod.

“As you can see from our projections,” I continued, “Neurosync’s algorithm has consistently outperformed market standards by 27%. What this means is an unprecedented level of customer behavior prediction.”

Gregory Weslake leaned forward.

“And your competitors? How does Horizon Data’s new platform compare?”

“Horizon’s approach relies on historical data sets. Our algorithm incorporates real-time emotional response indicators. Simply put, they can tell you what customers did yesterday. We can tell you what they’ll do tomorrow.”

Two hours later, Mia and I stood in the lobby, still in shock. Westlake had not only agreed to invest, they wanted to lead a funding round that would value Neurosync at $90 million.

My phone rang. It was my mother reminding me about my father’s retirement party.

“Maybe you can bring those cookies you used to make. Everyone always liked those.”

The contrast was almost comical. In one moment, I was negotiating a multi-million dollar deal. In the next, I was being asked to bring cookies to celebrate someone else’s success.

The week that followed was intense. Days blurred into nights as lawyers drafted agreements and press releases were carefully worded. Thursday morning, Mia burst into my office with a tablet.

“Forbes, Business Insider, the Wall Street Journal. They’re all running the story.”

My face stared back at me from the Forbes website. The headline read, “Disruptor alert: Olivia Reed named youngest female CEO in tech after landmark investment deal.”

My stomach dropped. The announcement wasn’t supposed to go public until after I’d had a chance to tell my family in person. I quickly scanned the article. Our PR firm had included my background in the press kit, apparently rushing the release to coincide with a major tech conference happening this week.

As if summoned by my thought, my phone began to vibrate with messages. Colleagues, old classmates, distant relatives, all suddenly aware of my success, but nothing from my parents or Nathan.

The silence was deafening.

After Mia left, I called my parents. My father answered, his voice clipped.

“I suppose you think we’d be impressed,” he interrupted, “making a show in the business pages.”

“Dad, I built this company from nothing. No connections, no family support, not even a word of encouragement.”

“Now you’ve got your name in some articles. We’ll see how long it lasts before reality sets in.”

“The reality is that I’m now the CEO of a 90 million dollar company that’s changing the industry.”

“This tech bubble you’re riding will burst. Nathan’s built something solid, something real.”

I closed my eyes, suddenly tired of the same old narrative.

Sunday arrived warm and clear. A perfect day for an outdoor retirement celebration. I sat in my car outside my parents’ home, watching guests arrive, people who had witnessed my relegation to the background over the years.