CHAPTER 165: “SMALL BEDROOM → BIG PLANS"

Mom was watching us with that secret softness she hated us catching. Even after felony charges, viral videos, and me turning our high school into Fight Club Lite—she still saw us as hers. Still thought pasta could exorcise demons.

Madison leaned close. "ARIA’s being suspiciously quiet. Did you mute her?" I had shared my other earbud with her.

"She’s either calculating forex or silently judging this dinner. Both are on brand."

"Your AI... judges people... I saw how she did it at La Cherry."

"Constantly. She thinks Tommy’s BMI is a crime against data storage."

Madison froze mid-bite. "Wait, she WHAT?"

"Relax," I said. "She also thinks Elon Musk is a glorified Reddit mod, so you’re in good company since she hasn’t said anything about you, maybe she’s maybe trying to get on your good side."

"Wow," Madison smirked. "Definitely takes after her creator."

"Harsh but fair."

Dinner carried on, jokes stacking over the unspoken. Like drywall over cracks. Everyone laughing because the alternative was remembering the room was basically radioactive.

Tonight, I’d deal with Luna. With Tommy’s future. Tomorrow comes with Sterling’s courtroom circus. Tonight? I had this. Pasta, family, and a girlfriend who turned my clearance-rack life into luxury branding.

Then Mom’s voice cut through the air again. "Peter."

The table froze. Even Tommy’s chewing. That’s how you know shit’s serious—Tommy paused mid-carb.

"I want you to know I’m proud of you."

The silence was biblical.

"Not for the violence," she said, locking eyes. "Never for that. But for protecting your sister. For standing when it mattered. That took courage."

"...Thanks, Mom."

"But if you ever do something that suicidal without thinking again, I’ll ground you till you’re thirty."

"Copy that."

"Good." She clapped like a judge ending court. "Now. Who wants dessert? I stress-baked three pies."

Tommy’s hand shot up like a fire alarm, his shoulder nearly dislocated. "ME. Always me!"

And just like that—we were back. Not normal, but our brand of normal: scarred, sarcastic, pie-fueled survival.

After dessert—Tommy eating like the pie owed him money—I nodded upstairs.

"Come on. We gotta talk."

"About?" he asked through a mouthful.

"About the thing that’s gonna flip your life upside down, yeah."

Madison kissed my cheek. "Go make him a millionaire." Of course there is nothing i do that she does not know about... okay most. I’ll help your mom with dishes. Play Batman and Robin with your bestie."

Tommy followed me upstairs, wheezing like he’d just finished the Boston Marathon instead of climbing thirteen stairs with three lasagnas inside him.

"Bro, your girlfriend just casually mentioned making me rich like it’s Taco Tuesday. Do you hear the words coming out of her mouth, or are you just immune now?"

"Welcome to my new normal," I said, shutting my bedroom door.

He collapsed into my desk chair. The chair audibly cried for help. "Okay, no bullshit—what the fuck happened to you? One week ago you were basically high school wallpaper. Now you’re dating Gotham’s trust fund princess and speedrunning criminal records like it’s a side quest."

I sat on my bed, considering how much truth he could handle without either fainting or calling a priest.

Tommy wasn’t just a friend; he was the friend. The kid who once tried to fight a playground bully with a broken Pokémon card. Ride-or-die since kindergarten. He deserved at least a peek behind the curtain.

"Remember when you said I’d need cheat codes to level up?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"Found some. Can’t explain how, but I’m stronger, smarter, sharper. Like the universe finally stopped nerfing me."

Tommy squinted. "This isn’t some Fight Club shit, right? Like I’m Tyler Durden and you’ve got a brain tumor telling you to punch faculty?"

"No, dipshit. Still me. Just... upgraded."

"And these upgrades come with a ’make Tommy stupid rich’ DLC?"

"Among other things." I leaned forward. "But before I explain—do you trust me?"

Tommy blinked like I’d just asked if he wanted fries with that. "Bro. I literally sprinted into a police station for you today. I’d trust you with my Netflix and browser passwords."

"That’s actually touching. Especially since your anime watch history..."

"Don’t push it."

I grinned. "Here’s the deal. I can build something—software worth millions. But I can’t put my name on it. Too much heat. I need you to be the face. The boy genius. The Mark Zuckerberg before he turned lizard."

Tommy’s chair creaked as he sat back. "Wait, hold up. You’re telling me you’ve got Tony Stark’s brain now, and you’re just handing me the credit?"

"Exactly. You play genius, I run the code, we split the money. Clean. Easy. Untouchable."

His jaw worked like he was trying to chew the concept. "Peter, that sounds insane."

"My life is insane now. This is me stabilizing. This is me taking care of my people. You showed up when it counted and you have always been there with me. Now let me return the favor."

He went quiet. Pacing my room like a caged zoo exhibit. Then he stopped dead. "Okay... but what kind of software are we talking here? Don’t say Minesweeper 2.0."

"Universal API Translation Layer."

He stared. "The fuck does that mean in English?"

"It means every business on the planet has systems that don’t talk to each other. I make them talk. Seamlessly. Solve a trillion-dollar headache with a single solution."

Tommy froze mid-pace. "Holy shit. That’s... that’s actually insane."

"Yeah. Conservative estimate? Twenty million. Probably more. Microsoft, Oracle, Salesforce—they’ll eat each other alive bidding for it."

His jaw dropped so hard it might’ve hit my carpet. "Twenty... million? Like, actual money? Not Monopoly cash?"

"Split down the middle. You’re the teen prodigy who fixed the unfixable. I’m just your nerd buddy in the background. Everyone wins."

He sat back down, hard. Chair groaned again. "This is real? You’re not fucking with me?"

"As real as me putting Holloway in the hospital."

Tommy’s head whipped toward me like I’d confessed to murder. Then he started pacing again, faster. "Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! You’re serious!"

"Dead serious."

He ran both hands through his hair like he was auditioning for a shampoo commercial. "Bro. We’re about to scam our way into Forbes. I don’t even know how to spell Forbes!"

I smirked. "Don’t worry. I’ll spell it for you. Right after we cash the check."

He stopped pacing, staring at me like I’d just announced we were starting a cult. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you’re my brother," I said simply. "And brothers take care of each other."

Tommy’s eyes got suspiciously shiny. "Bro..."

"Don’t get emotional on me. Save it for when you’re crying into your millions."

"Shut up." He wiped his face quick, like feelings were contagious. "So what—you’re telling me I just sit there and pretend I coded the next digital nuke?"

"You won’t be pretending," I said. "We’ll create it together. I’ll tutor you line by line until you get it. By the time we’re done, you’ll understand exactly what you’re selling. You just need to be willing to learn fast."

"For ten million dollars? I’ll learn fucking Sanskrit if you want."

"Just JavaScript, Python, and some system architecture. Easy stuff."

"’Easy,’ he says," Tommy muttered. "My best friend’s out here turning into Tony Stark and I’m fat Happy Hogan."

"Happy was loyal as hell, rich, and dated Aunt May in the MCU."

Tommy squinted, then broke into a grin. "Okay, you got me there. So... when do we start this insane plan?"

"Tomorrow morning. My place. Bring energy drinks and your laptop."

"You mean my anime laptop? The one you’ve roasted for three years straight?"

"We’ll get you a better one. Can’t have the next Zuckerberg coding on a glorified toaster from 2015."

Tommy sat back down, looking dazed. "This morning I woke up worried about failing a calc test. Now I’m apparently a future millionaire."

"Welcome to the Peter Carter experience. Shit escalates quickly."

"No kidding." He leaned forward, voice serious for once. "You know I’ve got your back, right? Whatever this is, wherever it came from... doesn’t matter. You’re my boy."

"I know," I said, and I meant it. "That’s why you’re the only person I’d trust with this."

We sat in silence for a moment. Comfortable, but heavy. Two broke kids from the wrong side of town about to flip the script on the entire system. My bedroom still smelled faintly of gym socks and despair, but it was about to become the war room of a revolution.

Except we weren’t planning a D&D campaign or a dumb YouTube channel. We were planning world domination.

"One question though," Tommy finally said.

"What?"

"Can I use some of the money to finally meet that VTuber I’m obsessed with?"

I rolled my eyes. "Tommy, with ten million dollars, you could probably marry her."

His jaw hit the floor. "BRO!"

"But maybe work on yourself first. Money doesn’t fix everything."

"Says the guy who went from zero to hero overnight."

"Fair point."

We both laughed, and for just a second, it felt normal again. Two idiots, plotting world domination from a shitty bedroom with peeling paint and a cracked window.

Tomorrow, nothing would be normal. Not for Tommy. Not for me.

"Master," ARIA whispered from my earbuds, "shall I begin preparing the development environment for tomorrow’s session?"

I gave the subtlest nod. Tommy didn’t even notice.

Yeah. Tomorrow was going to be interesting.

We both laughed, and for a moment, everything felt normal again. Just two best friends planning world domination from a shitty bedroom.

You know the story. Every tech genius "started in a garage" or some dorm room no one’s cleaned in months. This? This was ours.