I didn’t grow up around wealth.

My mother worked tirelessly to provide for our family, and I saw firsthand the weight that falls on the breadwinner. That experience shaped my mission: to help professionals especially women who carry that responsibility turn high income into lasting wealth without sacrificing family, health, or peace of mind.

Today, as a CFP® professional and founder of Vivid Advisory, I work with lawyers and senior executives earning $400K+ who feel like their net worth isn’t moving fast enough. What I’ve found is that it’s rarely about discipline it’s about silent tax drag, investments that aren’t structured for real life, and “someday” planning that keeps getting pushed while prime years pass.

That’s where I step in. I help clients cut tax drag, restructure their portfolios around goals and liquidity needs, and build a coordinated plan that runs without more effort from them. The result isn’t just better returns on paper it’s clarity, confidence, and more wealth without more work.

Clients often tell me things like:

“We saved thousands this year without changing our lifestyle. Now I know exactly where I’m headed.” — Law Firm Partner

“For years I felt like I was working nonstop but my money wasn’t. Now my equity plan is on autopilot and I finally feel confident about the future.” — Senior Executive, Woman Breadwinner

What makes this work is the combination of a decade of experience focused on attorneys and executives, the rigor of being a CERTIFIED FINANCIAL PLANNER® professional, and a process designed to simplify your financial life: a 90-day plan, measurable next steps, and ongoing coordination with your CPA and attorney.

If you’re earning $400K+ and want more to show for it, let’s talk. You can schedule a confidential 15-minute consult via the link in my profile or DM me directly.

We used to cry at the train station every Sunday night.
When we were dating, my girlfriend, now my wife, lived in Maryland.
I lived in New York.

Every weekend, she took the train up.
We’d pick the same spots to eat.
Walk aimlessly.
Sit longer than we needed to.
Do whatever made two days feel like more.

Sunday nights were the hardest.

I’d take her to the station early.
Not because we had to.
Because we wanted more time.

We’d sit there quietly.
Holding each other.
Watching the board change.
Trying to stretch the last hour.

When the train started moving, she’d call me.
I could still see her through the window.

No big goodbye.
Just that heavy feeling in your chest when something good is pulling away.

She’d go back to Maryland.
I’d go home alone.

We stayed on the phone until one of us fell asleep.

Last year, we got married.

Sunday nights look different now.
We sit on the couch.
Talk through the week.
Sometimes watch a movie.
Sometimes go out for dinner.

Sometimes I catch myself rushing it.

And then I remember how badly we wanted this time together.

Anthony H. Williams, CFP®

Helping Women Lawyers & C-Suite Execs Pay Less in Taxes, Keep More of What They Earn, and Protect What They’ve Built

My mom had never been to a spa until yesterday.
It was her birthday.

She looked more relaxed than I've ever seen her.

At one point, she mentioned her shoulder had been hurting.
She said her body just feels different now.

She's still working.

Not because she has to.
Because she doesn't want to stop yet.

A few years ago, that wasn't true.

She was tired of feeling like she had no choice.

We had one uncomfortable conversation.
We looked at the numbers she'd been avoiding.
We built a plan that gave her options.

Yesterday, she didn't rush us through anything.
She stayed longer than planned.
She ordered another drink without checking the time.

We didn't plan so she could stop working.

We planned so days like that wouldn't come with guilt.

My friends had to stay at the front door. 
Not because my parents were strict. 
Because they didn't want anyone to see how we lived.

One bedroom. 
Four people.

My parents slept on a sofa bed in the living room. 
My brother and I shared the bedroom.

I asked my dad once why we couldn't get a two-bedroom. 
"I paid for your Catholic school," he said.

We got education.

I wanted my own space so badly. 
A door I could close.

My dad said something I didn't understand at the time: 
"If you want to be free, you need to own your own thing."

Freedom wasn't a bigger apartment.

It was building something that meant we'd never have to hide our lives again.

undefined undefined

CFP Board

CERTIFIED FINANCIAL PLANNER™ Professional

FINRA

Series 7 

Series 6

Series 63

Howard University School of Business

Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona

New York University

Delta Sigma Pi

Vivid Advisory

Northwestern Mutual

Howard University

PepsiCo

Guiding Executives & Lawyers to Pay Less Taxes, Grow Wealth Stress-Free, and Protect Their Family’s Legacy | DM ‘FREEDOM’ to Learn How

Another $500K year... but your net worth barely moved.

Here's why:

You're paying thousands more in taxes than necessary
Your investments aren't built for your income level
Your 'plan' is "someday" keeps getting postponed while wealth-building years slip away

I help executives and lawyers fix this. 

Fast.

How it works:

We identify all the tax strategies you're currently missing
Build investments that match your actual wealth level
Create a wealth system that builds automatically while you focus on your career

Recent client: "Finally stopped feeling behind. Now my money grows even when I'm not working."

Why this works when other advice fails:

10+ years only working with high earners ($300K+)
No confusing jargon, just clear steps

Message 'FREEDOM' now to:

See where your current plan is costing you money
Discover your missed tax opportunities
Start fixing it this month

Reach out for a 30-minute consultation.

If you're ready to optimize your financial situation, click the "View" button.

Let's connect

If you recently changed your job, check this comprehensive guide to managing your 401k.

Managing Your 401(k) When You Change Jobs: A Comprehensive Guide

Part of a push by the company to open offices in underserved areas, Anthony Williams aims to make it “a pillar” of the community, he says.

25-year-old advisor launches new Harlem partner with Fortune 90 company, Northwestern Mutual

Anthony Williams is a successful financial advisor who has made the shift and reaped the rewards. Join Anthony as he shares his experience and insights on how to establish relationships with professional associations, build a strong brand, and generate quality leads for your business.

From Quantity to Quality with Financial Advisor Anthony Williams  - Season 6 Eps 2

Anthony Williams, a financial advisor based out of Harlem, NY, chops it up about all topics of financial literacy and how the establishment of good habits early in life can lead to bigger things later on. Remember: "The little things lead to the larger things."

Real With Omar Ep. 49: Anthony Williams (Vivid Advisory)

Anthony shares valuable insight in the advisory space while discussing the process of onboarding new clients in-person and online, and how nerve-racking it can be for a new client to come on board.

Episode 21 - Anthony Williams | Vivid Advisory

Anthony Williams began his career with Northwestern Mutual in 2014 as a college intern, becoming #1… (Feb 2023)

Marcus Samuelsson Hosts A "Community Conversation" At Red Rooster In Harlem

Northwestern Mutual Brings A ‘Community Conversation' On Generational Wealth To Harlem (Feb 22, 2023)

Northwestern Mutual Brings a 'Community Conversation' on Generational Wealth to Harlem

Financial Advisor Anthony Williams, leading the Harlem office, brings invaluable insights as a neighborhood native, committed to empowering underrepresented groups through financial education and support for local businesses.

Northwestern Mutual Expands Its New York City Presence In Harlem And Cedarhurst

A client told me she spent $18,000 on her daughter's sweet sixteen.
Half the people didn't show.
And that wasn't the part that hurt the most.

Her husband said it was too much.
She did it anyway.

"I didn't have this growing up," she said.
"She deserves it."

Tables set for 80.
30 showed up.

Her daughter smiled through it.
Thanked everyone who came.

A couple of weeks later, her daughter mentioned it.

"I would've been happy with just my friends there."

$18,000.

She wasn't throwing the party her daughter asked for.
She was throwing the one she never got.

We give our kids what we didn't have and call it love.

But sometimes, we're just spending money to heal ourselves.

And the person who needed something different never got a say.

I bought my brother life insurance without telling him.
Last year, that decision became the only reason he has any.
When I bought it, he was healthy.

In his 20s.
Living his life.

Last year, he got a better job.

I thought, now it makes sense to increase the coverage.

That’s when we found out.

He can’t get approved anymore.

That first policy is the only one he’ll ever have.

I didn’t buy it because something was wrong.
I bought it because nothing was.

Most people wait until it feels necessary.
Until there’s a reason.

My brother’s reason showed up after it was already too late.

I thought I had time.
I didn’t.

That’s the part no one tells you.

I called my friend an "effing idiot" on speaker in a corporate office.
I was 18.
It was my first week.

I was told to make practice calls about financial planning and insurance.

I called a friend.

He cut me off.

"Stop trying to sell me something."

I lost it.

Someone heard me.

Brought me into his office.

"Do you know where you are?"

They reported me to leadership.

My mentor stepped in.

Pulled me aside.

"I see myself in you," he said.
"Let's see how this goes."

I wasn't too young for the job.

I was too raw for the room.

Raw isn't the same as wrong.

Someone just had to believe I was teachable.

She lent her dad $40,000 for a house.
He hasn’t paid back a dollar.
Now he’s upset she won’t give him more.

When she reminded him it was a loan, he said he’d pay her back.

Eventually.

The money didn’t change anything for him.

But it changed everything for her.

Because once she sent it, it stopped being a loan.

And when she brought it up, she became the problem.

Not for saying no.

For asking him to keep his word.

You give once.
They need more.

You call it a loan, so it feels safer.

It turns into a gift anyway.

And when you stop, you’re blamed for changing.

Calling it a loan doesn’t protect you.

It just makes you the villain when you ask for it back.

I drove 90 minutes to help my uncle with his finances.
He kicked me out in five minutes and called me a scammer.
He's Caribbean.

Money in the bank.
Property.
Susu.

To him, there was nothing to plan.

Anything else meant someone was trying to take his money.

I brought a senior advisor.
I thought it would help.

"What are we doing?"
"We're here to talk about financial planning, Uncle."

He looked at me.
Then at the advisor.

"Anthony, get out of here. You're trying to scam me."

That was the last time I tried to make my family my clients.

Not because I gave up on helping them.

Because proving yourself to people who already decided you're wrong costs more than the help was worth.

4 hours round trip. 
5 minutes in his house.

And I still walked out looking like the scammer.

Proud to officially welcome Brandi Hydleburg  Hydleburg as Lead Advisor at Vivid Advisory.

This wasn’t a rushed decision.
It was a values-aligned one.

Brandi represents the kind of advisor and human we want at the center of this firm:

thoughtful, disciplined, client-first, and deeply committed to doing the work the right way.

As Vivid Advisory continues to grow, our focus remains clear:
	•	Long-term planning over short-term noise
	•	People and families over transactions
	•	Building real systems that create clarity, confidence, and legacy

Brandi joining the team strengthens how we serve our clients and expands what’s possible as we scale with intention.

This is about building something that lasts.
For our clients.
For our community.
For the impact we’re committed to making.

Welcome to the team, Brandi.
Let’s get to work.

$30K to the church.
She never told her husband how much.
When he found out, he didn't yell.

He just looked at her and asked:
"How long has this been going on?"

Years.

She'd always tithed.
That wasn't new.

What was new was the number.

To him, $30K was their future.
To her, it was faith.

Keeping it quiet didn't keep the peace.
It made him wonder what else he didn't know.

So we built them a plan.

She kept giving. 
He stopped worrying about the future.

The money wasn't the problem.
The secret was.

She lived with her ex-husband for months after the divorce.
Because she couldn’t afford to buy him out yet.

Every morning, she heard him downstairs.
The coffee.
Him talking and laughing on the phone.

She couldn’t stand it.

She eventually bought him out.

But the memory stayed.

Now she makes $380K.

Supports her mom.
$2,100 a month.
Only child.

She wants to leave her job in 10 years.
Buy real estate.
Build something outside her W-2.

But every time an opportunity came up, she hesitated.
Double-checked.
Waited.

“I should’ve taken more risk earlier,” she told me.
“Before I was responsible for anyone else.”

So we covered two things first.

Her mom’s care.
And a reserve that meant she’d never be trapped again.

Only then did she move.

She’s buying real estate now.

The fear didn’t disappear.

She just isn’t cornered by it anymore.

A $200 monthly decision would’ve saved my family years of financial hell.
My dad thought long-term care insurance was a scam.
Three years later, dementia.

$3,000 a month for his care.
Out of pocket.

His retirement savings were gone in eight months.

We filed for Medicaid.
Waited six months while the bills kept coming.

My mom covered the gap with money she’d saved for herself.

But the money wasn’t the worst part.

It was watching my dad turn into a problem his kids had to solve.

Long-term care insurance isn't for you.

It's for the people you love.

Most people think they’ll handle this later.

Later is usually when your kids are holding the bills.

You don’t have to do that to them.

If you’re earning well and this is still on your to-do list, message me.

Let’s take care of it before it becomes their problem.

I ate the same 18 eggs for two weeks.
Not because I was broke.
Because I spent $7,000 I thought I'd have.

I was living off campus in DC.

Running my business.

I had clients lined up.

So I paid for a coaching program.

Then the clients canceled.
The money was already gone.

I bought 18 eggs and told myself I'd figure it out.

I waited.

Waiting to look more successful.
Waiting for someone to notice me.
Waiting until it didn't feel embarrassing to reach out.

Then I ran out of eggs.

So I stopped waiting.

I started pitching insurance to students and professors.

Practiced the pitch in the shower every morning.

Sat in the campus café every afternoon.

After every conversation, I asked:
"Can you give me two or three people I should call?"

2 weeks later, I had money.

Bought groceries.
Threw the eggs away.

I wasn't eating eggs because opportunities didn't exist.

I was eating eggs because asking meant showing people I was barely holding it together.

"You still owe the $9,000."
"The contract doesn't pause if you stop attending."
That's what they told me when I finally called.

A couple of years ago, I signed up for a coaching program.
$18,000 total.
Half up front.
Half due in 90 days.

I paid the first $9,000.
Went to two calls.
Maybe three.

It wasn't for me.
I knew it early.
I didn't say anything.

So I stopped showing up.

90 days passed.
The second $9,000 auto-charged.

I called immediately.

"I haven't been to a session in months."

They pulled up my contract.

"Payment was due in 90 days. It's been 90 days."

"But I stopped coming."

"Doesn't matter. The contract doesn't pause."

I wasn't mad at them.
I was mad at myself.

Because I knew exactly what I was doing.
I was avoiding the conversation I didn't want to have.

So I paid the $9,000 and stayed silent.

We keep subscriptions we don't use.
Commitments we don't want.

Not because we don't notice.
We notice.
We don't want the hard conversation with ourselves

We'd rather hand over the cash than admit we made the wrong choice.

"If I go, I'm being irresponsible.
If I don't go, I'll resent every photo they post."

Her college friends planned a week in Europe.
They'd been talking about it for years.

This time, it actually happened.

Flights booked.
Group chat lighting up.
Screenshots. 
Voice notes.

She had the money.
$21,000 set aside.
Labeled guilt-free spending.

Still, she said she'd think about it.

Not because of the cost.

Work doesn't pause when she does.
A team that needs her available.
Projects she knows she'll be cleaning up the moment she's back.

She pictured the trip.
Felt excited.

Then she pictured the return.

And realized she'd built a life that punishes her for stepping away.

Her mother is getting divorced.
After 40 years.

Never worked outside the home.
Raised five kids.
Moved here from the Congo in 2004.

Her entire life only worked if the marriage did.

No income.
No work history recognized by the US.
Nowhere to go but her daughter’s house.

Her daughter is also getting divorced.
She has two kids.
She’s the oldest sibling.

Her mother doesn’t just need a room.
She needs a permanent plan.

Her kids are watching.
And she’s the one everyone expects to figure it out.

She makes $416K a year.
And it still isn’t enough.

“I always knew I’d take care of her someday,” she told me.

Her voice cracked.

“I just thought I’d have more time.”

You can do everything right and still inherit everyone else’s emergency.

She won’t open her bank app.
“I wake up at night.
I check my accounts to make sure nothing disappeared.”

She makes $408,000 a year.

She grew up in a house where money actually did disappear.

Eviction notices.
Lights shut off.
Counting coins for gas.

On payday, she logs in.

Pays every bill.

Logs out immediately.

No browsing.
No checking balances.

Then she feels sick for the rest of the day.

Last month, she asked me:

“I’m doing everything right.
Why does it still feel like I’m about to fall behind?”

Her body learned that money doesn’t stay.

And no income can convince it otherwise.

His wife has cancer.
They haven't finished the one conversation that matters most.
Who raises their kids if she dies.

They came in for life insurance.
She couldn't get approved.
They insured the kids instead.

No will.
No guardian named.

I asked, "If something happens to both of you, who raises them?"

They looked at each other.

She looked away.

"I don't know if we'd pick the same person."

He said, "Every time we try to talk about it, she gets upset."

She looked at me.

"Because talking about it feels like I'm already gone."

So they don't finish the conversation.

Avoiding it feels like love.

Until you realize it's the opposite.

Silence doesn't protect her.

It leaves a judge to decide who raises their kids.

She can’t turn it off.
At the table.
Between bites.
While someone’s talking to her.

Work doesn’t end.
It just waits.

Most of the household income comes from her.
Most of the pressure does too.

She likes her job.
She’s proud of what she’s built.

But she never feels ahead.

If she slows down, things pile up.
Emails. Decisions. Loose ends.
So she keeps moving.

“I don’t need to retire early,” she said.
“I don’t even want to stop working.”

“I just want to know that if I did,
it wouldn’t turn into a mess I have to clean up later.”

She’s afraid of what happens when she’s not the one holding it together.

Anthony Williams, CFP®

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This New Year, I’m not calling anyone out.

Not the people who went all of December
without opening their accounts.

Not the ones who started a conversation at home
and stopped the moment it turned into another argument.

Not the people who keep telling themselves they’ll slow down,
then add another meeting before the week even starts.

Not the ones who keep saying, “I’ll deal with it later,”
because nothing feels urgent enough yet.

Every time it comes up, it turns into more than expected.

More tension.
More questions.
More things left unsaid.

If you’re writing the same goals again this year, it’s not because you forgot them.

It’s because acting on them would mean staying with something you usually walk away from

This year doesn’t need a new version of you.

It just needs you to stay a little longer with it.

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