Chapter 3

The university career fair buzzed with nervous energy and ambition.

Chloe and I were there, résumés in hand, hoping to impress.

And then I saw him. Mark.

He was holding court with a recruiter from a prestigious tech firm, his voice loud, animated.

Tiffany stood beside him, looking bored but expensive, a human accessory.

Mark, it seemed, had managed to attach himself to her, likely through sheer persistence or her own cold calculation.

"...and this revolutionary new platform," Mark was saying, gesturing wildly, "will change the way we interact with social media. It's a game-changer."

I recognized the vague concepts. They were the seeds of the startup we had built in the first timeline, ideas I had largely developed and refined.

He hadn't even started coding it yet in this timeline, I knew that for a fact.

He spotted me. A predatory glint in his eyes.

"Ah, Sarah!" he boomed, beckoning me over. "Perfect timing. Sarah, this is Mr. Henderson. Sarah worked closely with me on the initial conceptualization of this project. Tell him, Sarah."

He wanted me to validate his charade, to lend my credibility to his stolen ideas.

The old Sarah would have been flustered, would have probably mumbled something supportive.

The new Sarah smiled politely.

"Mr. Henderson," I said, extending my hand. "A pleasure. Mark has always been full of... enthusiasm."

I turned to Mark. "Those concepts you mentioned? Fascinating. I'm afraid I don't recall the specifics of my involvement in those early brainstorming sessions. My focus has been on my own projects."

Mark' s smile faltered. Tiffany shot me a venomous glare.

Mr. Henderson looked from Mark to me, an eyebrow raised.

I then launched into a concise, articulate presentation of my own, a refined version of a project I'd actually developed, backed by solid research and a clear understanding of market needs.

Mr. Henderson listened intently, nodding.

When I finished, he smiled. "Impressive, Ms. Miller. Very impressive. My card. Call my office Monday; I'd like to schedule a formal interview."

He gave Mark a cursory nod. "Your... concepts, Mr. Peterson, are certainly ambitious. Perhaps a bit more... grounding would be beneficial."

Mark' s face was a mask of fury as Mr. Henderson moved on.

He was laughed off by other recruiters he approached with his vague, incoherent pitches. Word spread quickly. He was informally blacklisted before the fair even ended.

Later, Tiffany cornered me near the refreshments table.

"Stay away from Mark," she hissed, her voice low and threatening. "He's mine. His success is my success. Don't mess with it."

"Is he?" I asked calmly. "Or is he just a means to an end for you, Tiffany?"

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't deny it.

The next day, Mark confronted me privately, his charm gone, replaced by raw anger.

"You know, don't you?" he said, his voice tight. "You're like me. You remember."

So, he was reborn. That confirmed it.

"Remember what, Mark?" I feigned ignorance.

"Don't play dumb!" he snapped. "Our startup! The code, the business plan. You have to help me recreate it."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't," his voice dropped, becoming menacing, "I'll ruin your father. That favor my dad did for him? I can make it look like something else entirely. Something that would destroy his reputation, maybe even land him in trouble."

The old threat. The fabricated heroism of Mr. Peterson.

My blood ran cold, but I kept my expression neutral.

"If you're so brilliant, Mark," I said, playing on his massive ego, "the genius who was going to get everything in your will, you should remember it all yourself. Surely you don't need little old me."

He seethed, speechless for a moment.

"You'll regret this, Sarah."

"I doubt it."

What he didn't know was that Chloe, ever pragmatic and tech-savvy, had anticipated trouble.

She' d been nearby, and her phone had been recording.

She captured Mark' s threats, his admission of remembering, and, later that day, a bonus: a screaming match between Mark and Tiffany in the campus coffee shop.

Mark, frustrated and desperate, blamed me for his setbacks.

Tiffany, her patience clearly wearing thin, mocked his incompetence, his inability to deliver on his grand promises.

"You said you were a genius!" she'd shrieked. "You said you had it all figured out! All I see is a failure!"

Chloe, with a mischievous grin, edited the highlights into a concise, damning audio clip.

She uploaded it to a popular anonymous campus gossip page.

"Future Tech Mogul or Future Flop? You decide."

It went viral on campus overnight.

Mark and Tiffany became laughingstocks. Their public personas, so carefully cultivated, shattered.

The humiliation was exquisite.