Last night, I went to a different kind of event.

Usually, I’m surrounded by the people who write code, deploy firewalls, and clean up the digital blood after a ransomware attack. The folks who actually know how a single missed patch can wipe out a $50 million company before lunch.

But yesterday? Yesterday, I went into the wild.

I spent the evening with CEOs.

And let me tell you: it’s been a long time since I felt that kind of existential terror without someone actively waving a gun at me.

Everyone there was talking about scaling, growing, hiring salespeople. Not one word—not a whisper—about ransomware. About cyber liability. About insurance policies written in disappearing ink. About the financial gut-punch waiting for them the second some 18-year-old in Belarus decides to get cute with their systems.

They didn’t even know they were sitting ducks.

And that’s when it hit me: We’re failing.

We, the Cybersecurity Professionals, Are Losing the War.

We’re so busy chasing certifications, tuning SIEMs, and arguing about which MFA app is “more secure” that we’ve forgotten the one thing that actually matters:

Communicating with the people who are signing the checks.

They don’t know what’s coming. They don’t know that ransomware is no longer some “IT problem” that gets fixed with a restore key. They don’t realize that a single breach will bankrupt their company faster than you can say “cyber insurance claim denied.”

They think their biggest risk is hiring the wrong VP of Sales.

Meanwhile, the real threat is already inside the building—and it’s not wearing a name badge.

So, Here’s My Promise: I’m Done Watching CEOs Walk Blindfolded Into Traffic.

Starting today, I will do better.

Before I leave this event, at least 20 CEOs will be thinking differently. They’ll stop worrying about whether their LinkedIn profile looks impressive enough and start worrying about whether their backups are segregated, encrypted, and tested against ransomware payloads.

Because here’s the reality:

  • One ransomware attack = six figures in downtime, legal fees, PR disasters, and regulatory fines.
  • One insurance denial = the CFO explaining to the board why the company can’t make payroll.
  • One poorly documented security program = you in a courtroom explaining why “we had good intentions” doesn’t count as a legal defense.

This isn’t just about cybersecurity anymore. It’s about survival.

If You Sell Growth but Ignore Cyber Liability, You’re Selling a Time Bomb.

Look, I get it. Growth is sexy. Revenue charts going up and to the right make for great slides at quarterly board meetings.

But growth without protection? That’s building a skyscraper on quicksand and hoping the weather stays nice.

It won’t.

The hackers are coming.

The lawsuits are coming.

The regulators are coming.

And if you don’t have evidence—real, defensible documentation that proves you did your job—you’ll be the one footing the bill.

Not your client. Not the insurer. You.

You Have a Choice: Be the Shield or Be the Scapegoat.

You can keep pretending this isn’t your problem. You can keep telling yourself that “someone else” is educating the CEOs and business owners.

Or you can realize the brutal truth: no one is.

Not the insurance brokers. Not the general counsel. Not the MSP who still thinks antivirus and a firewall is “good enough.”

You.

We.

We’re the last line of defense between these businesses and financial extinction.

And starting today, we have to act like it.

If you’re ready to stop being part of the problem and start leading the conversation, let’s talk.

Because if we don’t, the next time a CEO loses everything because of a ransomware attack, they won’t remember what we tried to teach them.

They’ll remember that we were too busy to show up.

And I don’t know about you, but I’m done being too late.