The San Francisco sun was blinding as I stepped off the plane, my hand instinctively going to my stomach.
I had moved the one hundred twenty million dollars into that Swiss account within hours of leaving the Sterling house, making it invisible to anyone who might try to track me.
By the time Arthur realized I was gone for good, there would be nothing to follow.
I stood at the airport, looking at a map of Silicon Valley posted on the wall.
This was the place where empires were built from dorm rooms and garages.
Where nineteen-year-olds became billionaires.
Where your background meant nothing if you could code, pitch, and execute.
I rubbed my stomach gently, feeling the slight flutter that I now knew was four tiny lives beginning to grow.
“We are home, babies,” I whispered.
The first three months were the hardest.
I rented a small apartment in Palo Alto, nothing like the mansion I had left behind, but it was mine.
Every morning I woke up sick, my body adjusting to carrying four babies at once.
The doctor had warned me it would be difficult, that I would need to be careful, that quadruplet pregnancies came with serious risks.
But I did not have time to be careful.