In the heart of Silicon Valley, where the line between genius and hubris is often blurred, a new scandal is unfolding—one that cuts to the core of power, ethics, and the human cost of chasing immortality. A tech entrepreneur, who sold his payments company for $800 million and now markets anti-aging supplements through his company Blueprint, finds himself at the center of a storm. A recent investigation has exposed a troubling pattern of confidentiality agreements (NDAs) used to silence employees, partners, and even former lovers, as detailed in this report. As the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) digs in, this saga screams for accountability in an industry that thrives on secrecy.
This figure, notorious for extreme health experiments—think blood plasma transfusions from his teenage son, as covered by Bloomberg, or obsessively tracking his every bodily function—claims to have turned back his biological clock. Blueprint peddles supplements and testing kits tied to his regimen, branding him a trailblazer in the anti-aging game. But the investigation reveals a grim underside: a workplace where NDAs gag dissent and bury inconvenient truths.
The accusations hit hard. Former employees, including an ex-fiancée who once worked for Blueprint, say these NDAs—some dating back nearly a decade—violate labor laws by muzzling discussions of workplace conditions. The NLRB is now probing complaints from at least three people, including one woman who, in a searing Instagram post on March 23, accused her ex-boss of abandoning her during her stage III breast cancer fight. “Speaking out is now critically important—not just for me, but for the dozens of employees who have been manipulated, coerced, and gagged,” she wrote. Her account, backed by the investigation, exposes a culture of fear, with employees pressured into silence over everything from misconduct to product risks.
The specifics are jarring. Workers had to sign “opt-in” agreements, greenlighting their boss strutting around in scant clothing and chatting openly about sexual topics—like erections—at work, according to the investigation. Some felt cornered, unable to object without jeopardizing their livelihoods. One ex-assistant quit after raising red flags, only to be ignored. These NDAs didn’t stop at staff; they snared sexual partners and contractors, hinting at control that’s anything but standard.
Then there’s the product. Blueprint’s “Longevity Mix” supplements, hyped as the key to his anti-aging quest, carry a steep downside. An internal study, cited in the investigation, found 60% of users hit with side effects—nausea, bloating, even crashing testosterone levels—yet sales roll on to millions of followers. The opacity is glaring, especially when employees who might’ve sounded the alarm are gagged. It’s a brutal lesson: the race to cheat death can trample consumer trust.
He’s not taking it lying down. On X, he branded the investigation a “hit piece,” insisting NDAs are “fair and good practice” and claiming the probe found no legal dirt after grilling 30 people over a year. His fans argue his quirks are misunderstood, that NDAs are par for the course in a trade-secret-obsessed field. But that dodge ignores the power tilt. When workers sign away their right to speak—about culture, missteps, or safety—they’re not just guarding secrets; they’re losing agency.
The NLRB’s probe could rewrite Silicon Valley’s NDA playbook, especially if it deems them labor-law violations. For a company bleeding $1 million monthly below break-even, per the investigation, the stakes are do-or-die. But this transcends one outfit; it’s a peek into tech’s secrecy fetish, where NDAs cloak the mighty from critique. Disruption’s the mantra here, but when it silences workers’ rights, who’s footing the bill?
Take the ex-fiancée. Facing a $584,000 fine for breaking her NDA, she’s still talking, turning her ordeal into a rallying cry for transparency. Her bravery, noted in the investigation, has spurred others to step up. It’s the human toll behind the shiny immortality pitch. With billions flooding the anti-aging sector, we must eyeball the ethics. Innovation’s great; exploitation—of workers or buyers—isn’t.
This mess lays bare Silicon Valley’s dreamland shadows. The immortality chase may dazzle, but its price—muted voices, shaky safety, unchecked clout—begs a hard look. As the NLRB digs deeper, the ripple could be massive. A ruling against these NDAs might spark a reckoning, not just for Blueprint but for a sector long shielded by legal armor. For him, it’s a high-stakes bet: his empire, already wobbly, could crumble under legal and public heat. For his accusers, it’s a stab at justice, a chance to own their tales.
The truth, once smothered by NDAs, is breaking free. And it’s not asking permission.
