As the daughter of a Nigerian poet and Jewish data scientist, I watched my family’s savings vanish as the Egyptian pound collapsed. In 2020, while others panicked over inflation, I bought Bitcoin—not because it was trendy, but because it was true. Every month, we invested. Not in stocks. Not in real estate. But in code. Now, our 62 restaurants accept Bitcoin via ATM machines—quietly, steadily, like a rhythm only the broken-hearted understand.