Rival CEO (Billionaire Secrets Book 1)

1.

Justin

The Georgia Tech Hotel and Conference Center buzzes with a kinetic energy that rivals the very technology we’re showcasing. Our booth is one among the two hundred that fill the expansive hall in a grid of dreams. We’re all praying for good grades and maybe even the right eyes on our project, leading to a sale or the cash to make our plans a reality. Each project is a testament to sleepless nights and relentless ambition. For some students, the stakes are their futures, as their diplomas hinge on today’s outcome.

I feel pretty good about my grades, but I’m also looking much farther ahead than graduation. We all are. This project has potential. We just need someone to see that. I glance around at the anxious faces but then narrow my focus back to Austin Sands, Rhys Smalls, and Theo Reed—my roommates, good friends, classmates, and comrades in arms against outdated tech and environmental ruin. We stand shoulder to shoulder beside our creation, a battery that promises revolution, not just evolution, for electric vehicles.

“Looks solid,” I murmur, more to myself than my friends. It’s a mantra to keep the doubts at bay, a shield against the whispers of what if. Our battery sits encased in a clear display, its sleek design a testament to the time it took us to create it. Inside, it has no copper and no lithium, just a sustainable answer to a world thirsty for clean energy.

“Did you see Turner’s face when we slotted our battery into his engine?” Theo’s voice cuts through my reverie, his grin audible even without turning to look at him. While our project is separate from the engine our friend Turner Bishop has built, we’re displaying together. It just makes sense, as his contraption is a perfect demonstration for our battery, and he has to get power from somewhere. Plus, if someone happens to want to invest in both, we’ll all be in this together.

“Turner’s always cool as a cucumber,” I reply, still scanning the crowd. His engine is called The Chess Master, and when he isn’t an engineering student, he’s the lead singer for a local band that just got a major record deal.

Potential investors roam the floor like sharks, their sharp suits and sharper gazes seeking the two-way street of profit. My heart hammers a rhythm of hope and fear each time someone spends any time at our booth, looking at our model or watching the demonstration video.

“Remember, guys,” I say, rallying the troops with a clap on Austin’s back, “it’s about way more than grades today. It’s about making the right connections.”

“Speaking of which,” Rhys interjects, tilting his chin toward a group of suited individuals working their way down the line of booths with purpose, “looks like we’ve got company coming. It must be nearly our turn to present on the main stage.”

“Showtime,” I whisper, straightening my shirt. This is our moment—the culmination of countless hours of soldering connections, programming circuitry, and dreaming bigger than we’d ever dared. We need to make sure our story captivates as much as our technology does.

“Justin,” Theo mutters, drumming an anxious rhythm against the tabletop. “You think the charge will hold up when we start her?”

I glance at the video looping beside us—a sleek montage of our battery’s creation story, spliced with animations of eco-friendly promises and a future painted green. But behind each frame lies our shared worry about the battery’s past failures, how sometimes it still stubbornly refuses to hold a charge. I force a smile, my confidence a mask I’m afraid might crack if anything goes wrong today.

“It’ll hold,” I say, more prayer than promise. “We’ve triple-checked everything.”

“Triple-checked,” Austin echoes, though his eyes don’t quite meet mine.

We all have the same fear, yet there’s no time for doubt—not now, not with the clock ticking down to our moment in the spotlight. The problem is fixable—it has to be—but we haven’t unraveled the answer yet, and things have to keep moving forward anyway.

Sure enough, when the suits arrive at our booth, they direct us to go set up for the main event.

“Hey, check out Mr. Big Shot over there,” Rhys says with a nod toward Turner as we gather our things and head out.

Turner is eagerly discussing his engine design with a cluster of interested onlookers. The gleam in his eye speaks volumes; this is where he shines, balancing his mother’s expectations that he find a “proper job” with his rock band’s burgeoning success.

“Looks like they’re into The Chess Master’s layout,” I comment as I begin our setup, though I stop to watch as one visitor leans in closer to examine Turner’s diagrams. Turner’s passion is infectious, his gestures painting pictures in the air.

“Good for him,” Rhys says, genuine pride in his words. “Guy’s been torn up about choosing between the band and engineering.”

“He doesn’t have to choose if both take off,” I muse, hoping for even a single triumph for us. A successful demonstration today could be the first domino in a chain reaction leading to life as entrepreneurs, as innovators…as changemakers.

After a few minutes, Turner joins us backstage, and with careful hands, we install a freshly charged battery into his engine—a sleeping beast on the verge of awakening. The Chess Master waits, silent for now, ready to surge into motion. Will it roar to life? Or will it stutter? Today of all days, it needs to work, and honestly, it could go either way.

“Let’s show them what we’ve got,” I say.

Theo nods, determination in his features. “Let’s do this,” he agrees.

With a shared look, we ready ourselves to step onto the stage and into our future. “Good afternoon,” I greet the crowd as the curtain parts, my voice echoing through the speakers. “We’re here to introduce something that could redefine electric vehicles.” My fingers dance over the tablet, cueing the video we’ve all but memorized. Onscreen, graphs and charts give way to vivid footage of our creation in action, showcasing our battery’s potential.

“Turner Bishop,” I continue, with a nod toward my friend, “has designed an engine that can propel a vehicle from zero to sixty in point-three seconds.” I let the number hang in the air a moment, a testament to raw power harnessed by sheer ingenuity. “But his project is not just about speed,” I add. “It’s powered by a new, green sodium battery, an alternative to the conventional lithium-ion batteries that currently dominate the market and decimate the environment.”

I sweep my gaze across the crowd, ensuring each attendee is included in this pivotal moment. “Sodium is vastly more abundant. Just consider the ocean’s salt content. It’s easier to source and gentler on our planet.” The words flow, a rehearsed symphony of persuasion, as I extol the virtues of our innovation. “Instead of copper, our design utilizes aluminum, further enhancing environmental sustainability.”

The audience’s expressions shift from polite interest to piqued curiosity. My teammates exchange glances. We stand united on this precipice, ready to leap into the future we’ve dared to engineer.

“The components used in today’s electric-vehicle lithium-ion battery packs are not only extremely expensive but also potentially hazardous and combustible,” I explain. “These materials—lithium, nickel, cobalt, and copper—and the extraction of these scarce resources, the production methods involved, and their eventual disposal are all significant environmental obstacles. Our aim is to change that.”

I click the remote, and the massive LED lights behind me flare to life, highlighting Turner’s engine with our battery. The crowd leans in as the engine hums. I draw a steadying breath, ready for the climax when, suddenly, the car shudders. A collective gasp sweeps through the room.

My heart plummets. Dammit. But then, Turner’s cool voice slices through my panic. “An excellent opportunity to demonstrate real-time diagnostics,” he says, ever the showman. On the screen, a live feed from the cockpit appears, the battery’s vitals pulsing.

“See here,” Turner notes confidently, pointing at a graph that dances with data. “Look at The Chess Master EV engine’s adaptability. It recalibrates in milliseconds.” As if on cue, the car smooths out, purring once more. Relief washes over me like a warm tide. We’ve weathered this blip. Thanks to Turner, most of those watching won’t know whether that was an engine or a battery issue.

The remainder of the presentation goes as planned, and after we return to our booth, we spend the afternoon fielding questions and chatting with people as they inspect our work.

Hours later, the hall has emptied of its crowds yet still buzzes with lingering excitement. That’s when she finds me, her press badge glinting under the fluorescent lights. Engineering Tomorrow it reads.

Her eyes lock with mine, a hint of playfulness there. “Justin, right?” She tilts her head, her smile professional, though somehow suggestive. “My name is Diana Farley. Tell me more about this groundbreaking battery of yours.”

“Of course,” I say. “But it’s not just mine. Rhys, Austin, and Theo—they’re the gears in this machine.” I gesture to where they’re packing up our booth, laughing good-naturedly together. “We’ve had long hours and plenty of challenges, but we’re driven by the same goal—to create a more sustainable future.”

Her pen dances across her notepad, and she asks insightful questions, drilling down to the environmental impact of this sort of shift in the industry. In this moment, it’s not about our grade or even potential investors. It’s about paving a path forward, together. It would be great to get some publicity from Engineering Tomorrow whether our idea is funded or not. That kind of press could open job opportunities for us, in case no one is interested in our battery. But that’s tomorrow’s challenge.

Eventually, I’ve exhausted her list of questions, and she shakes my hand and turns to go. My eyes follow as she walks away, until I can no longer see her. “Guys,” I start, turning to my friends with a grin that won’t fade. “We actually did it.”

“Killed it, more like,” Austin chimes in, his usually stoic demeanor replaced by a wide smile.

“Professor Allen is waiting outside,” Rhys reports, looking at his phone.

We finish packing up and spill out into the cooler evening air, and there he is, our mentor, the man who pushed us when we were ready to give up. Professor Allen approaches with a stride that signals good news.

“Stars of the show, without a doubt,” he declares, clapping each of us on the back. His approval sends another wave of pride through me. “Tomorrow’s filled up with back-to-back meetings, starting first thing,” he continues, his eyes gleaming. “Investors are curious, and they’re not just kicking tires. They’re looking under the hood.”

“Turner…” He turns his gaze to our engine maestro. “You’ve got two separate appointments for The Chess Master. They want to see what else you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Turner replies, stifling a yawn.

“Tonight, you should celebrate—but not too hard. Tomorrow, we change the game.” Professor Allen gives my shoulder a final pat before disappearing into the night.

Austin nudges me. “The Wicked Wolf?”

“I could use a beer or three,” Theo agrees, as if there’s any other way to commemorate tonight’s victory.

After sending our boxes back to our lab, we find ourselves at a local dive known for its college crowd and cheap beer. The place is filled with students letting off steam after their own battles in classrooms and labs. We grab a round of beer, the plastic cups slick in our hands, a stark contrast to the high-tech equipment we’ve been handling all day.

“Cheers,” Rhys grins, raising his cup.

“Today was an excellent conclusion to our college careers,” I say, the weight of the day lifting.

“Tomorrow,” Rhys adds, his eyes catching on someone at the end of the bar, “is for our future.”

“Entrepreneurs,” Theo agrees, the word hanging in the air like a promise.

“Damn straight,” Austin confirms, tipping his cup to each of us.

Rhys exchanges a look with the brunette he’s spotted, and I suspect he won’t be staying long. Sure enough, with a smirk and a mock salute, he slips away from our table, his path set on a new conquest.

I lean back, absorbing the raucous laughter, scattered conversation, the sense of possibility that thrums through the room. It’s a heady mix, and there’s also the fact that today, we made something incredible happen.

But even that is not nearly enough. “Big day tomorrow,” I remind the others, though I know it’s at the forefront of their minds as well.

“Big future,” Theo corrects, and we drink to that, the taste of cheap beer feeling exactly like a victory toast.