Revenge of the Self-Made Millionaire

THEY CALLED ME A LOSER. NOW I OWN THEIR LIVES. My mother's face

twisted in terror. My father choked on his coffee, spluttering across the breakfast table.

Good. That’s the reaction I drove 800 miles for. They thought I was

dead, or still a failure. They were wrong on both counts. "Head in the clouds,"

they sneered. My family constantly ridiculed my dreams. "Stick to something safe,

Mark." "Safe" felt like a prison. So, at 22,

with twenty bucks, I left. No goodbyes. Just a silent vow: I’d never be "that

Mark" again. I landed in Phoenix. I started small, washing dishes and coding late into