I built a multi-billion-dollar empire over 20 years in silence, while everyone thought I was idle…

The Illusion Unravels

The annual Anderson family reunion invitation lay on my desk, shimmering with gold embossed lettering, as the morning sunlight poured through the expansive windows of my penthouse. For 17 years, I had woven a tapestry of illusions on the verge of unraveling, and the catalyst wasn’t even of my choosing.

I picked up my phone to read the email that had set everything in motion. “Forbes Around 50: The new face of digital art, Anna Anderson’s NFT empire reaches $10 billion valuation”. The article was slated for release tomorrow, just three days before the reunion. My meticulously crafted facade was about to crumble, and I was powerless to stop it.

“Miss Anderson,” my assistant’s voice buzzed through the intercom, “your brother Steven is online once again”.

Of course. Steven had been relentless, bombarding me with calls ever since the press release was distributed. I took a deep breath and answered the phone.

“Hello Steven”.

“What the hell, Janet?”. Steven’s voice was devoid of pleasantries. “I just got a call from Business Insider asking for a comment about my billionaire sister”. “Care to explain?”.

I leaned back, gazing at the New York skyline. “You might have to wait for the article, like everyone else”.

“Cut the crap,” he retorted sharply.

I chuckled despite the tension. “Worried, Steven?”.

“Is that what you call their incessant lecturing about real jobs and snide remarks about wasting potential?”.

“They were trying to help”.

“No, they were trying to control, just like they tried with you”. “But you—you never broke away from their script”.

The line went silent. Steven, always the obedient son, had done everything by the book. He was the golden child who never deviated.

“Just tell me one thing,” he finally said, his voice strained. “How long, how long have you been hiding this?”.

I stood and walked to the window, watching a private helicopter touch down on a nearby rooftop. “Remember when I moved into that tiny studio in New York when you thought my digital art was just a phase?”.

He hesitated, then said, “17 years ago”.

“Exactly”. “By the time Dad was dismissively telling everyone at Christmas dinner about my phase, I had already made my first million”.

Steven was silent, likely recalculating everything he thought he knew about me.

“You still borrowed money for rent and drove that beat-up Honda until last year”.

“I never borrowed money, Steven”. “I asked them to invest in my venture and they refused loudly”. “The Honda was a choice, just like the penthouse, the private jet, everything I kept hidden”.

“Private jet?” his voice cracked.

“The Forbes article will list $10 billion, but that’s on the low side”. “The actual figure is closer to $14 billion”.

The stunned silence from Steven was palpable. I could almost picture him speechless, trying to wrap his head around the magnitude of what I had achieved under their noses.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Steven, I have other calls to make”.

I hung up, a bittersweet smile on my lips, ready to face the revelations and the reunion head-on. The illusion was over, but my reality was just beginning.

“I continued, I have a board meeting to attend”. “Oh, and Steven, I’ll see you at the family reunion”. “I’m thinking of making quite the entrance”.

I hung up before he could reply and pressed the intercom. “Rebecca, is everything set for the reunion?”.

“Yes, Miss Anderson, the jet is fueled and ready”. “The car service has arranged for all family members to be picked up in Rolls-Royces”. “The venue has been updated to your private island as requested, and the NDAs for all staff are prepared”.

“Perfect,” I responded, picking up the reunion invitation once more. For 17 years, I’d played the part they assigned to me. The quirky artist who couldn’t quite grasp the real world. The daughter who needed endless lectures on financial prudence and the sister pitted and patronized at every family gathering. But not this time.

My phone buzzed with a text from my youngest sister Amy. “Omg Janet please tell me this Forbes thing is a joke what’s going on”.

I left it unanswered. Amy never missed a chance to flaunt her six-figure salary at every family gathering. Amy who delighted in pointing out how she had made it while her big sister was still finding herself.