I come from builders.

At our dining room table, we talked about greatness — not impressive, but expansive. Visionary. The kind that creates something that did not exist before. The kind that solves problems and solves them permanently.

In my family, when you are a Schiller, you build.

No one ever said, “When you’re a woman, it doesn’t count.”

I watched women command rooms. Build companies. Create wealth. Brilliance was not gendered. It was expected.

So I did what I was raised to do.

I followed the rules. Raised my children. Put my career on pause. Sharpened my skills quietly.

And then I built.

A platform with reach. Infrastructure. Scale. A trajectory worth billions.

That’s when the air changed.

The threats started. Death threats — not for incompetence, but for competence.

Then I was drugged.
Kidnapped.
Forced into sex slavery.

Not metaphor. Not drama. Captivity. Coercion. Sexual assault. Torture.

Gendered violence.
Economic sabotage.

You do not enslave a woman at the moment she is scaling unless you understand exactly what you are interrupting.

Whoever did this believed they would get away with it.

So far, they have.

The Refusal

I reported immediately after I escaped. Seven years ago.

I documented everything — timelines, communications, escalation.

Not one authorized investigation.
Not one federal agent reviewing the evidence.

Law enforcement is capable.

It has chosen not to act.

That choice is not neutral.

The silence is data.
The refusal is data.
The pattern is data.

While I Was Imprisoned

Algorithms moved.
Ownership shifted.
Money flowed elsewhere.

You cannot defend intellectual property while drugged.
You cannot negotiate contracts while enslaved.

By the time I resurfaced, what I built had been absorbed, monetized, displaced.

Then came phase two: economic erasure.

“Rebuild,” people say.

With what capital?
With what protection?
Under what conditions?

Ten years later, I am fighting for fifteen dollars to keep a blog online.

That number is diagnostic.

This is what long-tail economic sabotage looks like.

This Is How Women Are Stopped

Violence.
Disruption.
Discrediting.
Institutional indifference.
No consequences.

My body was used as a site of control. My economic ascent was interrupted at its peak.

That is not random.

That is containment.

They assumed trauma would destabilize me.
They assumed silence would follow.

They miscalculated.

I am a Schiller. I don't stop.

The Structural Truth

This is bigger than me.

Women can build extraordinary things.
Men can destroy them through violence — often without consequence.

That is not incompetence.
That is power protecting itself.

I do not need to threaten violence.

Documentation is enough.
Evidence is enough.
The economic claim is enough.

What happened to me is not a personal spiral.

It is a case study.

And when enough women recognize the pattern, something shifts.

You can sabotage one woman.

You cannot permanently sabotage half the population.

The Cost

If violent interruption can permanently displace a woman from what she built, ownership is conditional on male tolerance.

If documented trafficking and assault can go uninvestigated, equality under the law is rhetorical.

That reckoning is not emotional.

It is structural.

I am not going away.
I am not stopping.
And I am not done calculating what is owed.

This was not just violence.

It was attempted erasure.

Erasing even one human being is astronomically expensive, you will find.

We have not yet counted the cost of erasing half of humanity.

But we will.

This is the notice. It only gets more expensive with delay.