There’s a moment when you realize you’ve built your own ecosystem—a world where you make the rules, control the money, and move with power. I had that. At my peak, I was running a multi-city operation, bringing in 8 figures, and living on my own terms. I had employees, NDAs, employment contracts, a legitimate structure in an illegitimate world.

And then, in an instant, it was gone.

The Business of Being a Madam

I wasn’t a street hustler. I ran my agency like a corporation—tax filings, 1099s, legal agreements, even an overseas call center. I believed that running things professionally would give me longevity. I thought paying taxes meant I was protected. I was clueless.

Because here’s the truth: the DA’s office is a business like any other. They don’t care about “justice”—they care about money and headlines to keep their offices funded. The moment Eliot Spitzer went down, I knew I’d be next.

I tried to get ahead of it. I wanted out. I had seen the dark side—the girls who changed when money came too fast, the ones who lost themselves to substances, the business that started to feel more like a weight than an empire. I tried to sell the business, but that deal went bad. Then the SWAT team got me first.

Rock Bottom

Solitary confinement. Four months in a cage inside Rikers. That kind of isolation breaks people. It almost broke me. But it was nothing compared to what waited for me on the outside.

  • All my money? Gone. Seized overnight.
  • My boyfriend? Charged up over $100K on my credit cards and cheated on me. (To his credit, he at least moved my things out of my apartment when I lost it. Small wins, I guess?)
  • The media? Ruthless. I couldn’t just disappear and start over in silence. My face was everywhere.

Sitting on the beach, broke, hated, unemployable, and traumatized from months of isolation, I had one question running through my head: How did I get here?

And then another: How do I get out?

Rebuilding From Scratch

At first, I wallowed. I read every cruel thing said about me. That I was ugly. That I was a monster. That I deserved everything that happened to me. Clients even sent death threats. And then, for the next five years, I drowned myself in sleep meds just to survive.

Until I got arrested again. And I knew this cycle had to end.

So I did the only thing I could do—I got online and started freelancing. I took $6/hour gigs on Upwork and Guru, building my name back one project at a time. I didn’t complain. I worked. And eventually, I built something real again.

What You Should Learn From My Story

Success requires sacrifice. And most often, that sacrifice is hard work. Anyone selling you something that sounds too easy is lying to you—probably to get you to buy something.

You can work smarter, but there are no shortcuts.

But if I can go from 8 figures to nothing… to rebuilding again, so can you.