My start? Not great.

The day I was born, the nurse asked my mother, “Would you like to see your daughter?”

Her response? “No thanks, I have the rest of my life to look at her.”

She told this story often. Weird, right?

I was the third child of two high school dropouts, arriving just as they learned my older sister was developmentally disabled. Two more kids followed, making a family of seven crammed into a 1,000-square-foot rental. My “bedroom”? A mattress in the hallway, which I shared with my sister.

That’s where my story began. But it’s not where it ended.

From a Hallway Floor to the Boardroom

I didn’t finish high school. I didn’t finish college. But I earned an MBA, built a multimillion-dollar tech company, held public office, and made a difference in the criminal justice system.

I grew up in inner-city Baltimore, the daughter of parents with arrest records. My father was addicted to prescription drugs. My mother worked with a corrupt politician tied to the mafia. The FBI knocked on our door when I was a kid.

I changed schools six times. One Christmas, I was beaten so badly I bled through my clothes. At 18, I left home with my belongings in a trash bag and lived in my car until I could afford an apartment.

Two weeks later, I was raped at gunpoint in my own bed.

No one believed me. Not the police. Not even my own mother.

For the next 12 years, I struggled—19 different homes, 11 different jobs—trying to build a career without a degree. Every major company turned me down. I was tired of waiting for someone to give me a chance.

The Moment Everything Changed

I took a risk and invested in myself.

Loyola University in Maryland admitted me into their MBA program—without a high school or college degree. Yay, my employer agreed to pay!

Then, just as I started, the company was acquired. I had two choices:

Drop out, or pay for the MBA myself (which cost as much as my first year’s salary)

I maxed out my credit cards. I borrowed money from friends. The two things you’re never supposed to do.

Then, I did it again.

Before I even graduated, I applied to Stanford’s Executive Program. They had to waive employer sponsorship to accept me—because I was the only one running a tech startup while closing a Series A round of venture capital.

I bet on myself—again.

And it paid off.

I cashed in my savings, took equity instead of a salary, and turned around an insolvent startup that later sold for $230 million.

Then, I was sworn into public office, managing a $1.3 billion budget, fixing a government plagued by scandal, and restoring public trust.

But none of that mattered if I couldn’t do one thing.

Justice, 19 Years Later

For nearly two decades, no one listened. Then, I found a detective who did.

Three days. That’s all it took to solve my case.

The man who attacked me turned out to be the worst serial rapist in Maryland history—confessing to 25 cases, including a murder.

My fight for justice became a mission: To change the system that failed me—and so many others.

Because where you start doesn’t have to be where you finish.