Chapter 4

The fall semester loomed, and with it, the National Student Tech Expo.

In my first life, my app prototype had won accolades, before Chloe found a way to discredit me and steal the recognition.

This time, I had a new app, even more innovative. I'd poured all my resurrected energy into it.

In a moment I later questioned – was it weakness, or a deliberate test? – I'd shown early wireframes to Noah.

He'd seemed genuinely impressed, offering insightful feedback.

A tiny, foolish part of me had hoped.

The expo was held in a massive convention center in San Francisco.

I arrived early, setting up my booth.

Then I saw it.

A huge banner across the main stage: "Introducing Tech Prodigy: Chloe Jenkins!"

My blood ran cold.

Chloe, preening under the spotlight, was being interviewed by a tech journalist.

Liam stood beside her, beaming with pride, his arm possessively around her waist.

Noah hovered in the background, his face pale, his eyes darting nervously towards me.

On the large screen behind Chloe, her app was being demonstrated.

It was a clone. A direct, undeniable clone of my prototype.

Down to the unique UI elements I'd spent weeks designing.

My wireframes, brought to life by someone else.

And Chloe was wearing it.

The compass necklace.

A distinct, custom-made silver compass I'd given Noah for his eighteenth birthday, a symbol of finding his own path.

He'd claimed to have lost it years ago, feigning distress.

Now, it lay nestled against Chloe's throat, a glittering trophy of her theft and his betrayal.

I walked towards them, my steps measured, my anger a cold, controlled burn.

"That's my app," I said, my voice quiet but clear.

Chloe turned, her smile faltering for a microsecond before snapping back into place, brighter and more brittle than before.

"Ava! So glad you could make it! Isn't it amazing? I've been working on this for months!"

Liam stepped forward, his expression hardening. "What are you talking about, Ava? Chloe designed this herself. Don't be jealous just because she's getting the recognition she deserves."

Jealous. The accusation was so predictable, so Chloe.

My gaze shifted to Noah. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Noah," I said, my voice flat. "You saw my wireframes. You know this is my work."

He flinched, looking down at his shoes. He remained silent.

The silence was his confession.

"I will never trust you with an idea of mine again, Noah," I told him, the words falling like stones in the sudden quiet around us.

Then I turned to Liam. "And your loyalty, Liam, is clearly worthless."

I walked away, leaving them to their stolen glory.

The humiliation was a bitter pill, but it was also fuel.

They were escalating their attacks.

So would I.

The incident at the cabin, Chloe's "twisted ankle," had been a dress rehearsal.

The app theft was the main event.

I remembered the ER visit vividly. Waking up on a gurney, a dull ache in my head from where I'd hit it after Chloe's real shove – the one she'd disguised as her own fall.

In my first life, I'd been dazed, confused. I'd actually fallen. Chloe had orchestrated it perfectly, a "slip" that sent me tumbling, while she feigned trying to save me, then feigned her own peril. Liam and Noah, witnessing from below, had naturally rushed to "save" Chloe first, who was closer and more dramatically "in danger." I'd been left clinging to a root, eventually pulling myself up, scraped and bruised.

This time, I hadn't fallen far, just lost my footing and scraped my knee when I sidestepped her initial "stumble." Chloe, realizing her plan had partially failed, had then genuinely shrieked and exaggerated a fall herself to draw Liam and Noah's attention.

When I'd woken up in the ER (Chloe insisted on going for her "twisted ankle," which was barely even swollen), Liam and Noah had been there, their faces a mixture of concern and annoyance.

"Ava, you really need to be more careful on hikes," Liam had said, his tone more scolding than sympathetic. "Chloe could have been seriously hurt because you weren't watching where you were going."

Noah had nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you gave us all a scare."

No apology for leaving me. No concern for my actual scrape. Just blame.

Chloe, from her bed, had given me a small, triumphant smirk when they weren't looking, before wincing dramatically and asking Noah for some water.

Her text message later that day had been the icing on the cake: "Guess they care more about little old me! Don't hold it against them. 😉"

The memory was still vivid, still infuriating.

They were so predictable.

Their priorities were so clear.

Now, with the app, Noah's direct complicity was undeniable. He hadn't just stood by; he had actively helped her steal my work. The compass necklace was the ultimate insult, a symbol of his stolen loyalty.

My path to MIT, my escape, couldn't come soon enough.

I had to endure a few more months of their presence, their suffocating "friendship."

But each new betrayal, each fresh piece of evidence, only strengthened my resolve.

Stanford had released its early decisions. Liam, Noah, and Chloe were in, of course. Their families' influence and donations ensured that.

They'd celebrated wildly, Chloe at the center, basking in their adoration.

My MIT acceptance had arrived quietly, a thick envelope that felt like a lifeline.

I'd told Mr. Davison, who was ecstatic. I hadn't told anyone else.

Liam and Noah had been confused when I didn't share their Stanford elation.

"What's up, Ava?" Liam had asked, frowning. "Aren't you excited? We're all going to be together!"

"My decision is deferred," I'd lied smoothly. "I'll find out in the spring."

It bought me time. It kept them from questioning my plans too closely.

They were too self-absorbed, too focused on Chloe, to dig deeper.

Their assumption that I would naturally follow them to Stanford was absolute.

The thought was both infuriating and, now, strategically useful.