Cheating Fate

Chapter 4: The University Dream

After the disaster with Elena, I decided to surgically remove my heart and replace it with a calculator.

Love was a variable I couldn't control, but business? Business was logic. Business was numbers. Input equals output. Effort equals reward. Or so I foolishly thought.

I was now a Junior at the university. I had stopped trying to be popular. I had stopped writing poetry. I channeled all my frustration, my rage, and my intellect into one thing: The Capstone Project.

This wasn't just homework. This was the ticket to the big leagues. The assignment was to create a fully functional business model for a tech startup. The winner of the competition would get a recommendation letter from the Dean and a pitch meeting with Silicon Valley investors.

I didn't just want to win; I wanted to dominate.

I spent six months living in the computer lab. I survived on energy drinks and vending machine crackers. I stopped shaving. I looked like a caveman who had discovered Excel.

My idea was revolutionary. I called it "Crowd-Source Logistics." It was an AI-driven algorithm that optimized delivery routes for small businesses by utilizing local commuter traffic. It was brilliant. It was efficient. It was worth millions.

My mentor for this project was Professor Vance.

Professor Vance was the god of the Business Department. He wore Italian suits, drove a Porsche, and had a smile that looked like it cost more than my parents' house. He was the kind of guy who used words like "synergy" and "paradigm shift" unironically.

Everyone worshipped him. He was the success story we all wanted to be.

"Felix," he told me one afternoon during office hours, leaning back in his leather chair. "This... this is exceptional."

He was looking at my blueprints. My code. My soul on paper.

"You really think so, Professor?" I asked, feeling a rare spark of pride.

"I know so," he said, taking off his glasses for dramatic effect. "You remind me of myself at your age. Hungry. Sharp. You have the raw talent, Felix. But you need guidance. You need polish."

He leaned forward.

"Trust me. I can make this huge. But I need to review the raw data. Send me everything. The source code, the algorithms, the market research. I want to help you refine it for the final pitch."

I didn't hesitate. Not for a second.

Why would I? He was Professor Vance. He was tenured. He was rich. He was the gatekeeper to my future. I handed him a USB drive containing everything. My entire life's work.

"Thank you, Professor," I said, almost tearing up. "You won't regret this."

He smiled. A shark-like, perfect smile. "I know I won't."

The day of the "Grand Pitch Competition" arrived two months later.

The auditorium was packed. Investors were there. The Dean was there. I was backstage, wearing my only suit (which was slightly too big), rehearsing my speech. I was going to change the world.

The lights went down. The Dean walked onto the stage.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the Dean announced. "Before we begin the student presentations, we have a very special surprise. Our very own Professor Vance has just closed a deal with a major tech conglomerate for a groundbreaking new platform. He wanted to share the exclusive reveal with us today!"

The crowd cheered. I clapped along, thinking, Wow, Vance is amazing. I’m so lucky he’s my mentor.

Vance walked onto the stage. He looked like a king. The giant screen behind him flickered to life.

"Thank you," Vance said smoothly. "Today, I present to you the future of logistics. I call it... 'Vance-Logix'."

The logo appeared on the screen.

My stomach dropped.

Then, the slides appeared.

They were my slides.

Not similar slides. My. Slides. He hadn't even changed the font. He had just replaced "Crowd-Source Logistics" with "Vance-Logix."

I stood there, frozen backstage, watching my life unravel in 4K resolution.

He explained my algorithm. He used my market research. He told my jokes.

The audience was mesmerized. The investors were nodding. The Dean was beaming with pride.

"And the best part?" Vance said, concluding the presentation. "We have already secured a five-million-dollar seed round. This is going live next month."

Thunderous applause.

I couldn't breathe. My vision blurred. This had to be a mistake. Maybe he was presenting on my behalf? Maybe he was going to call me up?

I ran out from backstage. I intercepted him as he walked off the stage, surrounded by people shaking his hand.

"Professor!" I gasped. "Professor Vance!"

He stopped. He looked at me. His eyes were cold, void of any recognition.

"Ah, Felix," he said, checking his Rolex. "Great turnout, isn't it?"

"You..." I stuttered, my hands shaking. "That was my project. You used my slides! You used my code! You... you stole it!"

The people around us went silent. The Dean frowned.

Vance didn't flinch. He didn't panic. He actually chuckled.

"Stole?" he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Felix, don't be ridiculous. Ideas are cheap. execution is everything. You gave me some raw notes, sure. But I built the business. I secured the funding. I made it real."

"I gave you the source code!" I screamed. "It's on your computer!"

Vance’s face hardened. He leaned in close, so only I could hear.

"And who are they going to believe, Felix? The tenured professor with a track record of success, or the desperate scholarship student who can't even afford a tailored suit?"

He patted my shoulder.

"Take this as a lesson in the real world. Intellectual property is only yours if you have the lawyers to defend it. Now, excuse me. I have champagne to drink."

He walked away.

I turned to the Dean. "Sir! You have to believe me! I have the timestamps on my laptop! I can prove it!"

The Dean looked at me with a mixture of pity and annoyance.

"Felix," the Dean said sternly. "Accusing a faculty member of theft is a serious offense. Professor Vance brings a lot of prestige—and funding—to this university. Unless you have a patent with your name on it, I suggest you drop this. Or I will be forced to review your academic standing."

There it was.

The truth. Naked and ugly.

It wasn't about who was right. It wasn't about who did the work. It was about power. Vance had money. Vance had status. Therefore, Vance was right.

I was nobody. Therefore, I was wrong.

I walked out of the auditorium. I didn't present my project. What was the point? The "winner" had already been declared before the game even started.

I sat on the curb outside the university, watching the expensive cars drive away. It started to rain. Of course it did.

The Universe was laughing at me. It was screaming Lesson Number Four in my ear:

Lesson 4: Mentors don't exist. There are only predators and prey. And if you show a predator your neck, don't be surprised when he bites.

I took out my phone. I deleted the "Crowd-Source Logistics" folder. Years of work, gone in a second.

I looked at the university building—that ivory tower of lies. I used to look at it with reverence. Now, I only felt disgust.

I realized then that I had been playing the game with a handicap. I was trying to build things. I was trying to create value.

Idiots create value. Geniuses steal it.

Professor Vance hadn't just stolen my project; he had stolen the last shred of my belief in "fairness."

But he gave me something in return. Something far more valuable than a grade. He gave me a blueprint.

If a respected professor could lie, cheat, and steal his way to a standing ovation, why couldn't I?

I stood up. The rain soaked my cheap suit. I didn't care.

"Okay, Vance," I muttered, a dark grin forming on my face—the first real smile I had in years. "You want to play by those rules? Fine. Let’s play."

I wasn't going to be a student anymore. I was done learning. It was time to start applying.

But first, I needed a job. A real job. Not washing dishes. I needed to get inside the machine. I needed to see how the sausage was made.

And as fate would have it, the biggest, most corrupt machine in the city was hiring.

The Corporate World was waiting for me. And it was going to make High School and University look like a playground.

End of Chapter 4