"Oops! The Chicken Boy Is The Billionaire's Son"

Chapter 3: He Fights For His Rights

Nathan stood there, frozen. His chest felt like it had been hollowed out with a rusted spoon. He watched them… really watched them. Mark’s hand wasn't just on Amanda’s waist; it was sliding lower to her buttocks, possessive and smug, right there in front of the whole school. 

That was his damn girlfriend.

And Amanda... she didn't look forced. In fact, she looked like she’d finally found the person she actually wanted to be with.

On the giant screen, the equations Nathan had typed until his fingers bled were scrolling by. The audience was losing their minds.

"$80 million!" a man in a front-row tuxedo screamed, waving a tablet.

"$150 million!" another shouted, jumping to his feet.

The numbers were moving so fast it didn't even feel like real money. To Nathan, it felt like his heart was being auctioned off piece by piece.

"$800 million!"

The hall went into a frenzy. Mark leaned over and whispered something in Amanda’s ear. She giggled… a sound Nathan had heard every morning for six months- and then she kissed Mark. Again. Right there on the stage. A deep, lingering kiss that told everyone in the room Nathan Walters never existed. He never did, really.

"THAT’S MINE!"

The scream didn't even sound like Nathan. It was a raw, ugly sound that tore through the cheering. But it was him. 

The silence that followed was instant. It was a very hollow silence, one that would normally place a person on a hot seat. The big spotlights swiveled, blinding Nathan as they caught him standing in the middle of the aisle. He looked pathetic. His suit was a cheap charcoal thing that bunched up at the shoulders, and his face was red and streaked with sweat.a

"Amanda!" Nathan shouted, his voice cracking. "What the hell are you doing? That’s my code! That’s my project! That’s my machine! We built that in the basement, Amanda! Tell them!"

The Principal, a man named Epstein who usually didn't even acknowledge Nathan’s existence, stood up from the VIP table. He didn't look angry; he looked amused. He started laughing, a deep, belly laugh that set off the rest of the room.

"Well, well, who would you know?" Epstein said into his lapel mic. "It seems even a janitor can be ambitious. Tell me, young man, did you mistake the stage for the utility closet?"

The crowd roared. It was a nasty, mocking sound. Men, women and students collectively mocked Nathan Walters.

"I'm not a janitor!" Nathan screamed back, but his voice was drowned out. He looked at Amanda, pleading. "Amanda, please. Just tell the truth. tell them I spent six months on those equations. Tell them the code is mine. The machine I built it.. Come on!"

Amanda didn't even flinch. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at him like he was a bug she’d found in her salad. She leaned into the microphone.

"I told you he was obsessed, Mark," she said, her voice cold and flat. "He’s been stalking me in the labs for weeks. He’s some scholarship kid who thinks because he cleaned the desks, he owns the ideas on them." She looked directly at Nathan. "I don't know who you think you are, but you need to leave before you embarrass yourself more than you already have."

Nathan felt like he’d been kicked in the chest. "Stalking? Amanda, stalking.. Wha…”

He turned to the crowd, “I have the prototype!" Nathan yelled. He was desperate now. He turned and ran back to his seat, tripping over someone’s feet as the crowd booed him. He grabbed the wooden box and ran back to the stage. "I have it right here! If it's theirs, why do I have the prototype inside this box?"

"Go ahead," Mark shouted from the stage, grinning. "Show them, Nate. Show them your 'genius' prototype!"

Nathan ripped the box open and opened it, expecting the obsidian cube to slide out.

Instead to his shock, a frantic, scrawny chicken with barely any feathers tumbled out onto the floor. It let out a terrified squawk and started flapping around, shitting on the polished stage.

The auditorium exploded. People were literally doubling over, gasping for air as they pointed at Nathan. They pulled out their phones and began to record, laughing unanimously. 

"The Quantum Chicken!" Mark yelled, clutching his sides. "Is that your secret weapon, Nathan? Does it lay golden eggs?"

Nathan stared at the box. He felt sick. How?? They took it too. Mark must have swapped it while he was looking for Amanda. He looked at the Principal, at the investors, at the girl he thought he was going to marry. They were all laughing at him. He was a joke. A literal, featherless joke.

"Enough," the Principal said, wiping his eyes. "Security, get this clown out of here. He’s a disgrace to Braxton University."

Two massive guards grabbed Nathan’s arms. They weren't gentle. They jerked him around, forcing his head down. Nathan looked up one last time and saw Amanda leaning her head on Mark’s shoulder, watching him get dragged away like he was trash. And doing absolutely nothing!!

Suddenly, someone from the audience spoke up! 

"I will pay $5 billion for a 50% share."

The voice didn't come from a microphone. It was just... there. Deep, quiet, and so powerful that it felt like the air in the room suddenly got sucked out.

The laughter died instantly.

In the center of the VVIP section, a man stood up. The moment he rose, the Principal nearly tripped over his own chair. The tech scouts from G****e and Apple stepped back like they’d been slapped.

It was Dr. Sage Walters.

He didn't do interviews. He didn't go to galas. He was the man who owned the satellites the world used to communicate and the banks that held the world's debt. Seeing him at a college demo day was like seeing a god walk into a dive bar.

"Dr... Dr. Walters?" the Principal stammered, his face turning a ghostly white. "I... we didn't know you were in attendance, sir. We are honored…"

Walters didn't even look at the Principal. He didn't look at the stage. He adjusted the cuff of his shirt, his eyes sharp behind his glasses.

"Five billion," Walters repeated. The amount was so high it didn't even make sense. "But I don't buy things that are stolen. And I don't invest in liars."

He looked toward the security guards holding Nathan.

"Let the boy go," Walters ordered. It wasn't a request. "And bring that machine to my office next week. I will make a deposit of $1 billion tonight. I want to see the hand that actually wrote the logic."

The Principal looked at Mark, then at the machine, then at the richest man in the world. He was sweating through his suit. "Of.. of course, sir. Whatever you want."

Nathan felt the guards' grip loosen. He stood there, shivering, confused. He looked at the man in the VIP section. He had no idea why the most powerful man in the world was looking at him with a look that almost... almost looked like a challenge. Or hope!!