My Dad Told Me to “Go Live in the Streets.” He Didn’t Know I Earn $25M a Year—or What I’d Do Next.

of coming home that had nothing to do with the building and everything to do with the work. My desk was a floating slab of black marble I’d imported from Italy—ridiculous, expensive, chosen specifically because my parents wouldn’t understand why anyone would spend that much on a desk. Three monitors curved around it in an arc, dark now but ready to continue reading …