Keep Your Tragic Romance, I'll Take the Billions

Minutes before the Stanford Hackathon began, my childhood friend decided to bail to help his girlfriend shoot a TikTok video.

I was just about to stop him when his inner voice suddenly exploded in my head: 'I actually got reborn?'

'Last time, I listened to Maeve and stayed for the competition, securing my spot at Stanford. But Sloane went to Malibu alone to shoot her video and fell off a cliff!"

'Even though I pushed Maeve off a roof to avenge her, I still lost the love of my life.'

'This time, I'm not losing Sloane. If Maeve dares to stop me again, I'll make her pay with her life all over again!'

My blood ran cold, and the words of persuasion died in my throat.

If he wanted his tragic romance so badly, he could have it.

......

Ten minutes before the hackathon doors locked.

I ran through my final checklist: student ID, team registration code, GitHub main branch, and the demo script.

First place meant a full ride and a guaranteed acceptance letter to Stanford. This was the very ticket Kaelen had sworn he would do anything to get.

Right now, though, he was staring dead at his phone.

The screen lit up. He snatched it, pressing it to his ear. "Sloane, don't cry. I'm on my way."

"The hackathon? That's nothing compared to your video. I'll be there in fifteen."

He hung up, shoved his laptop into his backpack, and turned to leave.

"Kaelen." I reached out on instinct to grab his strap.

Right before my fingertips brushed the nylon, a voice, dripping with disgust, exploded in my head.

'Holy shit... I actually got reborn? I'm back to this exact day?'

'Last time, I listened to Maeve's bullshit and stayed for the competition. Sure, I got the offer. But Sloane went to Malibu alone to shoot her video and fell off a cliff!'

'I pushed Maeve off a roof to avenge her, but I still lost the love of my life.'

'This time, I'm not losing Sloane. If this bitch tries to stop me again, I'll make her pay with her life all over again!'

My hand froze mid-air. It was Kaelen's inner voice.

My blood ran cold.

The childhood friend I had known for ten years, standing right in front of me, had murdered me in a past life.

The words of persuasion died in my throat.

Kaelen glared at me, his eyes full of hostility. "Let me guess, you're going to give me some grand lecture to try and make me stay?"

I just stated the facts. "She can shoot a video anytime. But we have less than ten minutes before the clock starts. If you leave now, your entire year of prep goes down the drain."

Kaelen sneered, not bothering to reply.

His thoughts seeped into my brain again.

'Stupid woman. It's pathetic she didn't get reborn. Only I hold the script to the future.'

'What's a piece of paper from Stanford worth anyway? Cash is king. I'll go save Sloane, turn the video into a viral hit, and cash in. Then I'll go all-in on Doge, sweep up Yuga Labs NFTs, and seed that AI startup. I'll be Silicon Valley's youngest billionaire in no time!'

What made me physically sick wasn't just knowing he had killed me.

It was realizing that the guy I grew up with was, at his core, a profoundly selfish, soulless scumbag.

I saw right through him now.

If he wanted his tragic romance so badly, he could have it.

Kaelen scoffed. "It's just a hackathon. It's pointless."

He walked out the door without looking back.

Around the staging area, several elite coders stared at him like he was insane. This was Stanford's most ruthless hackathon. Win or lose, just finishing the sprint was enough to gold-plate a resume.

"Go ahead. Good luck," I murmured as the door swung shut. I exhaled, feeling oddly relieved.

My biggest liability had just eliminated himself. He took his love and left me with the victory, plus the cheat codes to the future. I just hoped he wouldn't regret it.

Six hours later.

I ran the entire codebase solo. The moment my pitch ended and the top score flashed across the main screen, the partner from Sequoia Capital led the standing ovation.

My mentor walked up to the stage. He glanced at the full-ride commitment letter, then frowned. "Maeve, where is Kaelen?"

"He left ten minutes before kickoff," I replied flatly. "Went to Malibu to help his girlfriend shoot a TikTok."

That night, back home, I drafted a high-yield options spreadsheet based entirely on the intel I'd pulled from Kaelen's internal monologue.

At the dinner table, I slid the Stanford direct admission offer over to my parents.

"Mom, Dad," I said, slicing into my steak. "I'd like to cash in on that reward you promised."

My dad beamed with pride. "Of course. Ten wishes, even. Are we talking a new car, or a vacation?"

"I want to leverage our idle funds," I said, meeting his eyes. "I want to combine my living allowance with the prize money and put it into a short-term investment."

They agreed without hesitation. I was an only child, and with a Stanford championship backing my judgment, they trusted my financial moves implicitly. Their only condition was not to touch anything illegal.

My first tranches of seed capital were ready to deploy.

I had just stepped out of the shower when a massive crash rattled the walls from Kaelen's house next door, followed instantly by the sharp shattering of glass.

I walked to the window and peeled back a slat of the blinds.

Their living room was lit up. Kaelen's mother was slumped on the floor, trembling, while his dad stood over her, his face dark with rage.

"How could you walk out ten minutes before a competition!" his father roared. "What do you think your future is? A joke?"

Kaelen stood amidst the wreckage, looking defiant. "Degrees are useless pieces of paper! I'm about to make you enough money to buy ten Stanfords!"

"Was it Sloane? Did that TikTok gold-digger put you up to this?" his mother shrieked. "Why does she get to drag you down with her!"