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I kneho I had becoiant, a powerful son of a bitch

But as ical history? Where did I come from?

It shouldn’t haveLiterally, I could p

ossess any physical object short of thehole inside, filled with questions

So I did what any billionaire did I hired a private investigator to answer theh he was the best PI in the Bay Area, I doubted he’d co My birth records were sealed

Stupid bureaucracy But money could fix it all

In e ht - Birth Parents” I tossed the envelope ontoI’d alondered about was right there in that envelope

So close

And yet my heart hammered hard

In the orphanage, I’d wondered who rown, but a tech ul and a billionaire Shouldn’t this identity crisis have been over by now? Did it even matter anymore?

Deep down inside, I knehat I was afraid of: learning why iven me up Whatever their reasons, they’d rejected o, they’d looked down at ive me up I didn’t even knoho my parents were, but that fact hurt me It still hurt me all these years

Spinning around in my chair, I looked out theand stared at the sky It was still early The sun had just begun to show herself Turning back around to face the envelope, I tucked it into a desk drawer I wasn’t ready to face the truth Would I ever be?

Shuffling papers around onfor my phone Yesterday, I’d received an eed ram’s user privacy policies or else I’d pay

Mr Wainwright,

Pictogram’s privacy policies violate the trust and loyalty of its users