Chapter 47 – The Architect
The Malibu air was crisp and damp with leftover sea breeze as Jake sat on the deck, a warm hoodie pulled over his head and a mug of cocoa in hand. The storm had passed, and the horizon was clear for the first time in days.
His notebook was open in his lap, pages already filled with flowcharts, to-do lists, and a shortlist of potential COO candidates. It was the first time he'd admitted to himself that he couldn't do it alone.
FaceWorld wasn't a startup anymore.
It was a living, breathing beast of a company, and Jake—despite all his genius—was still just one person.
The YouTube deal was now finalized. Server integration was underway. FacePhone beta feedback was stabilizing after a second round of software patches. SoundStack, the music platform, was in prototype. And now? Mass production was looming.
Judith had been right.
He needed help.
Nolan had already sent over five vetted resumes. Jake ignored the first two. The third one—Melissa Grant—was a possibility. Stanford MBA, former COO of a biotech startup, exited with a successful acquisition. But her tone during their first call had rubbed him the wrong way.
Too careful.
Too polished.
He didn't need another babysitter or a glorified middle manager.
He needed someone who saw the vision and could help him build it.
Jake crossed her name off the list and sighed.
Three left.
Then his FacePhone buzzed—another email from Nolan, subject:
> "Wildcard."
Jake raised an eyebrow.
The attached résumé belonged to someone named Callum Price.
Jake scrolled through his credentials. Late thirties. Former co-founder of a mobile hardware firm acquired by Blackberry. Dropped out of Stanford's computer engineering program to launch his startup. Known for blunt leadership style and rapid scaling tactics.
But what caught Jake's attention wasn't the résumé.
It was Nolan's note:
> "This guy won't care that you're twelve. But he also won't care that you're a genius. If you're looking for someone who challenges you—this is it."
Jake leaned back in the chair and smiled.
The interview was set for Saturday morning. Not a video call—Callum was on a hiking trip somewhere near Telluride, Colorado, and cell service was patchy at best. Jake sat in his home office with the FacePhone on speaker, notebook open.
Callum's voice crackled through the speaker.
"Jake Harper."
Jake raised an eyebrow.
"And you're the guy who thinks reception is optional."
Callum chuckled.
"If you can run a company from your bedroom, I can do business from a mountain ridge. We both play unorthodox."
They talked for twenty minutes—no fluff. Just execution, strategy, and pressure points. Jake threw out a hypothetical about scaling servers in Eastern Europe. Callum responded with a three-point playbook and a warning about bandwidth bottlenecks in Romania.
When the call ended, Jake stared at the screen for a long moment.
He picked up his pen.
Under "COO," he wrote one name:
Callum Price.
Jake called Nolan immediately after and told him to start the paperwork.
"You're sure about this one?" Nolan asked.
Jake didn't hesitate.
"He's the first person I've talked to who doesn't treat me like a child or a science experiment. That's rare."
By Monday afternoon, the contract was signed. Callum would onboard in early October, relocate to Los Angeles, and begin working closely with Jake and Nolan on scaling operations, hiring leadership staff, and preparing for the FacePhone's manufacturing ramp-up.
That same week, Jake sat at the head of the conference table inside FaceWorld's new headquarters—still half-furnished but already buzzing with energy.
He pulled up his roadmap for Q4.
"Alright, team. We've locked in YouTube, prototype bugs are 90% resolved, and supply lines are secure. It's time we finalize our go-to-market strategy for FacePhone."
There were nods across the room.
"I also want a cross-platform creator dashboard. Something that links FaceWorld, YouTube, and our coming music service. Think ahead—build tools for monetization before the market demands them."
One of the engineers raised a hand.
"So… a creator economy?"
Jake nodded.
"Exactly. But built smarter. Creators are businesses. We treat them like it."
Heads turned. People scribbled notes. The meeting picked up speed.
Jake was no longer just giving orders.
He was leading.
And people were following.
Jake got a text from Haley that afternoon:
> hey. family dinner tonight. mom said you can come if you act like a normal kid.
He replied:
> define "normal"
Judith dropped Jake off at the Dunphys' house with a warning look.
"Don't start talking about algorithmic ad targeting over dinner."
Jake smirked.
"I was going to wait until dessert."
Claire opened the door with a tight smile, clearly trying to be polite.
"Jake," she said. "Nice to see you again. Please don't hack our thermostat."
"No promises," Jake said as he walked in.
Dinner was loud, messy, and full of overlapping conversations.
Phil tried to impress Jake with real estate trivia.
Alex grilled him about academic pathways and SAT scores.
Luke asked if FaceWorld could get him free pizza.
Jake took it all in stride—dodging Claire's suspicious looks, sneaking smiles with Haley, and trading dry one-liners with DeDe, who had decided she liked him because:
"He talks like a forty-year-old divorced man."
Then came the moment that stuck.
After dessert, Jay walked over, a glass of scotch in hand.
"Mind if I say something?"
Jake looked up from the couch.
"Sure."
Jay studied him for a beat.
"You've done something real. Most people your age are trying to figure out deodorant. You built a platform that changed how people communicate. That's not luck. That's not even just smarts. That's focus. And I respect that."
Jake blinked.
"Thanks… that means a lot."
Jay raised his glass.
"Just don't screw it up."
"Working on it," Jake said with a grin.
Haley plopped down next to him and whispered,
"My grandpa totally likes you now."
Jake whispered back,
"I'll send him a FaceWorld hoodie."
They both cracked up.
For once, Jake didn't feel like the genius or the outlier.