Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!

Clung! Clung! Clung!

In the harsh afternoon sun, hammers clanged against steel beams. Sparks flew as welding torches sealed the final metal supports in place.

The air inside the Helios Dome buzzed with the sounds of drills, power saws, and the gruff voices of men at work.

But the popular building no longer was called the Helios Dome, now it was called The Steele Complex

The old glass dome was almost unrecognizable. The new Steele Complex was now an elite business hub where the activities of Darren and his company would soon take over the State of Calivernia.

Workers moved about, clad in dirt-streaked overalls, lifting materials and hauling debris.

Some sat on scaffolding, taking short breathers, cigarettes hanging from their lips. A few stood by the edge of the half-built glass viewing area, watching the controlled chaos below.

"Damn, they're not playin' around with this place," one worker muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "New name, new look. This Steele guy's serious."

"Better be. You know what was going through my head when I found out it was a kid who bought this place," another chuckled, slamming a crate shut.

"Still can't believe he pulled that off. I mean I imagined the Zurichs with their headquarters over there. Thought they were trying to expand. If not them, maybe the Nelsons wanted a new bank branch. Who the hell is Darren Steele?"

"Kids these days men. They have more money than older people. And money talks, man, it does. Money and smart people."

"Yeah, well, as it turns out I've probably not been listening as much, eh?"

Laughter rumbled among them, followed by a sharp whistle from the foreman. "Quit runnin' your mouths and get back to work! We got a deadline to hit, and the boss don't do late."

The men groaned but obeyed, getting back to their tasks as the future of the Steele Complex took shape.

On the other end of the city, in the headquarters of Smithers Group, Gareth sat at his massive oak desk, fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white.

His new lawyer, a sharp-eyed woman in a navy-blue suit, sat across from him, hands neatly folded.

"The contract stands," she stated plainly, her voice devoid of sympathy.

Gareth's glare could have burned through steel. "That's impossible."

"It's fact," she corrected. "Your former legal counsel—" she glanced at the image of Attorney Jonathan Vance, "—wasn't just your contract drafter. He had broad corporate authority, he was functioning as the Chief Legal Officer or a consultant for your company with unilateral amendment powers."

Gareth's jaw twitched.

"By accepting Steele's investment idea as a bribe, Vance amended the default employment contract— without informing the company. The Smithers Group operates on standardized contract templates, modified slightly per role. When Vance changed it, the entire company followed the revised terms. Either through automation, clerical oversight, or sheer incompetence, the change was pushed through."

Silence hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.

"So what you're saying," Gareth finally spoke, voice low and deadly, "is that my own damn lawyer handed Darren the golden key to my kingdom… and brought chaos into my walls?"

The lawyer nodded. "With everything going on against you right now, I don't think suing Vance is even a good idea. What we should do now... is prepare for court."

Gareth's hand slammed against his desk, sending pens and paper flying. "I will not let some nobody with a bit of cash walk away with my empire!"

He turned sharply, pointing to his daughter.

"You did this."

Lily, standing by the bookshelf, flinched at the accusation. She said nothing. Her arms crossed between her thighs tightly as if bracing for a storm.

Gareth's glare burned into her, but Lily didn't fight back. She just looked down, silent, guilt-ridden.

------------

In Rachel's hotel room, the glow of her laptop screen bathed her face in pale light.

Numbers, spreadsheets, and transaction receipts filled her monitor. She was knee-deep in financial planning; drafting purchase orders, setting up wire transfers, and outlining the major housing market investment she was about to unleash.

Every click of her keyboard echoed in the quiet hotel room. She paused, rubbed her temples, then leaned back.

Almost there. It had to be perfect. She couldn't let Darren down.

She reached for her coffee, took a sip, and continued clicking at the keyboard.

------------

"Move those sluggish bodies of yours! You're men, dammit!"

Kara's voice rang out. In the center of towering metal containers stacked high above the docks, she was standing on top of a truck, barking orders at the workers handling the shipments.

"No time to waste here, boys come on!" she snapped, crossing her arms. "Every single Apple stock certificate in those boxes needs to be stored safely and quickly. We're moving fast on this, understood?"

The dock workers moved with urgency, hauling boxes off cargo ships and onto the waiting trucks.

Kara checked her watch, then the manifest.

"If my boss gets mad at me, I'm going to go to all of your houses and make sure your beds and pillows are warm and sweaty by the time you get back from work!"

-------------------

In MWMO headquarters, Ryan sat in the dim glow of his desk lamp, rage festering inside him like an open wound.

He hadn't stopped thinking about him since then. Darren Steele. That brat.

All that happened. All of it. It could not be a coincidence. It couldn't be.

He flipped open his notebook, eyes locked on the name he had written then.

Darren Steele.

His hand trembled as he gripped his pen and underlined it. Again. And again. And again. And aga—

Snap!

The pen snapped in his grip. Ink bled onto his fingers.

His face darkened, and with a mad shriek, he flung the pen to the wall. "Insects! They're all fucking insects! And I'm the king!"

"Me!"

He dug his fingers into the air, and slammed his head repeatedly on the desk. Then he stopped.

His hands reached for his phone and he picked it up. "Amelia."

"Yes, sir?" his secretary replied.

"Find out which real estate company sold Darren Steele his house."

A beat of silence. Then she finally responded,

"Yes, sir."

-----------------------

Brooklyn was in her home office, staring at the file in front of her.

The Teschmacher Weapon Scandal.

Her fingers hovered over her typewriter, she was building the report, but she still didn't know whether to include this. She hadn't gotten back a response from Darren.

Brooklyn picked up her phone and texted him.

'Hey, have you seen it?'

-------------------------

In Darren's dark room, the only light was from the laptop screen in front of him.

He was sitting in silence, his face pale. When his phone buzzed beside him, he moved his gaze slightly and saw Brooklyn's text, but he ignored it.

His eyes returned to the screen, locked into it, dread in his facial features.

'THE TESCHMACHER WEAPON EMPIRE HAS FALLEN.'

'DID THEY REALLY DO IT?'

'ALFRED TESCHMACHER IN HIDING!'

'TIES TO GANGS, CULTS, TERRORISTS!'

'BILLIONS IN PROFIT FROM DEALS WITH TERRORIST ORGANIZATIONS.'

Darren's pulse pounded in his ears.

He knew. This news would shatter Rachel. Her father had already destroyed her life enough. Because of that, he couldn't let this out in the open, and he couldn't let her find out about it either.

He had to protect her from it...