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

The Golden Hay ballroom was slowly becoming more and more alive. People greeted each other, laughing at memories as they sipped wine.

Darren could hear arguing and playful banter. But the energy suddenly shifted when a loud voice thundered through the air.

"How dare you come here!"

The loud, angry yell cut through the music and laughter, and followed with it was the unmistakable sound of continuous raised voices.

Darren, standing near the drinks table and chatting with Sophie McClain, caught the disturbance immediately.

Their heads, just like every other head in the ballroom, turned across the polished floor, the sea of glittering dresses and sharp suits parting slightly to reveal the scene.

Near the side hallway, where the private dining sections branched off, Terry Wilson and Tyler Mooney were locked in a heated argument.

"You shouldn't have shown your goddamn face here!" Tyler barked, loud enough to silence a quarter of the room. His face was twisted in rage, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Terry, looking smaller and more frail than Darren remembered from the dinner get together, raised his palms in weak defense. "Ty— come on, man— just hear me out—"

"No! You don't get to talk!" Tyler jabbed a finger in his chest, shoving him lightly. "You humiliated me in front of that psycho, Ryan Anders! You stole from my father's company! You son of a bitch, do you know how much shit I had to clean up because of you?!"

Murmurs broke out around the room.

A few former classmates who knew the backstory whispered it to others: how Terry, desperate and drowning in debts, had siphoned off money from a side fund while working at Moon Enterprises.

How Tyler had vouched for him during hiring, helping to create Wilson's Logistics, the contracting subsidiary that was what ended up helping Terry steal from it.

They also whispered about how Tyler had taken massive heat when the scandal surfaced. His father had almost demoted him from his position at the company.

Darren, the unknown catalyst of this situation, watched it all unfold with an unbothered expression.

"Do you know the amount of explaining I had to give to my father?!" Tyler roared. "Do you?! And you dare show your face here?! You haven't even brought my money!"

Terry's face flushed red with shame. He glanced around the room, as if searching for an escape, only to meet cold, judgmental stares.

"Tyler, please," Terry begged, his voice cracking. "It was a mistake. A stupid mistake. I was drowning— I had nowhere else to go— I'm sorry, okay? I swear I'm sorry."

The desperation in his voice only seemed to fuel Tyler's anger.

"You think 'sorry' fixes it?" Tyler sneered, leaning in so close Terry flinched. "You think you can waltz into the reunion and pretend like nothing happened?"

"I just wanted to make amends, man—" Terry's voice broke off.

"Security!" Tyler snapped over his shoulder.

One of the hotel's staff, a burly man in a black suit, began making his way through the crowd.

"You heard me," Tyler said, his voice dripping with mock pity. "Get the hell out, Terry. Before you embarrass yourself even more."

Terry's shoulders sagged. "Come on, man. I have as much right to be here as you."

Tyler's eyes flashed red. "What did you just say?"

Terry's lips trembled, and he knew then it would be wise to say nothing more. He saw the security guard approaching, so he quickly turned and slunk toward the exit, his figure shrinking with every step.

The doors swung shut behind him, and the ballroom seemed to collectively exhale.

Some guests turned away, pretending not to have seen. Others smirked or whispered behind glasses of champagne.

The atmosphere was thick with the kind of uncomfortable cruelty that clings to high society gatherings — people enjoyed the spectacle but didn't want to be seen enjoying it.

Darren watched it all impassively.

"Some things never changed," Sophie McClain said to him.

He looked at her. "That's exactly what I was thinking."

Sophie scanned his face and smiled. "So everything you said about him in the get together... you were right."

Darren pursed his lips. "Terry is a predictable person. In fact many people are. Just like numbers. Once you get the pattern, you're certain the numbers will follow it. Patterns are like characters, and Terry will always continue to act according to his character."

Sophie couldn't take away her smile. "Have you always been this smart, Darren?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea how to answer that question."

She gazed at him for a moment, then asked. "Do you want to dance?"

Darren froze, staring at her. Then he turned around to leave. "I think I'm good."

Tyler, still basking in the attention, brushed his jacket and sauntered back into the crowd, looking for new admirers.

Darren walked past him and he paused, turned around to see Darren's retreating figure but not his face.

With a grunt, he ignored it and continued to one of the groups of female admirers, waiting for him.

Darren got to the bar and asked for some whiskey. As he drank, another presence entered the party.

Charles Nelson.

Charles had schooled in Harvard not BUBL, but he had many friends and connections in the school and this graduating class, and so had been invited.

Where Tyler's entrance had been loud and brash, Charles' was dignified and confident.

He wore a perfectly tailored steel-gray suit, his blond hair swept neatly back, and he walked with an easy, grounded authority that turned heads without needing to demand it.

No flashy entourage followed him. No car screech. No declarations.

Just presence.

A few people rushed to greet him, recognizing his status from the Nelson family name and their Foundation — One that was high even among the elite circles.

Charles returned a few polite nods but didn't linger. His gaze swept across the room until it landed on Darren who was by the bar, drinking alone.

He smiled and made his way over, ignoring Tyler, who barely even noticed he had arrived.

"Drinking alone?" Charles said playfully, his voice soaked in husk as he sat beside him.

Darren looked to his left. "Mr. Charles."

"Darren Steele," The young Nelson replied, extending a hand.

Darren clasped it firmly. "I didn't expect you here."

"Got roped into it by a certain someone," Charles said dryly, flicking his gaze toward Tyler. "But when I realized you would be coming, I figured the night wouldn't be a complete waste."

Darren chuckled lightly. "Glad to hear I'm good for something."

Charles ordered whiskey, the same brand, and sat down beside him.

"You made an impression during the Corporate Conquest game. Do you still remember."

Darren chuckled. "I do. Sorry I had to leave immediately after."

Charles smiled. "That's what you're sorry for. Not for leaving with my money."

"Nope. Not sorry for that one bit."

They both laughed. Then sipped their drinks right after.

Charles leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so that it carried only to Darren. "I won't waste your time. I know you're not the same as many people here. You appear disconnected from their parade. You act older. And you also didn't need your parents' money to build something for yourself. And what you've built is impressive. The very."

Darren listened, cautious but open. "Starting off with flattery. Cliche but I'm not against it."

Charles laughed. "I'm not bullshitting you one bit, Mr. Steele. Don't you think now that we have the chance, we should just do the meeting here?"

"I see no reason why not."

"Exactly. My father's stepping back more and more from Nelson Bank," Charles continued, sipping from his drink. "I'm looking to tie it to real rising ventures. Not stagnant, overregulated corps. People like you."

Darren's expression didn't change, but a flicker of interest lit his eyes.

Charles went on, "We could arrange venture capital expansions— not just one-offs. Structured support. And I'd like Nelson Bank to handle Steele Investments' future treasury accounts."

Darren raised an eyebrow. "Big offer for a small fish like me."

Charles smiled easily. "You're only small to people who think yesterday's rules still apply. I don't."

The honesty in his tone impressed Darren slightly.

He wasn't selling dreams. He wasn't flaunting superiority. He was laying out real opportunities, businessman to businessman.

Darren took a slow sip from his glass, considering. "I'll think about it. I can't agree to a deal with alcohol in my system, can I?"

"No rush," Charles said, clinking his glass lightly against Darren's. "But at least now you know my real offer. Just know... you'll have options. And when others start trying to jump on your ship, you'll remember who showed up first."

Ding!

┏This person is being honest to you!┛

┏Charles Nelson is a solid potential ally with rating of A+!┛

Darren smiled faintly. "I'll keep that in mind."

But then, a familiar voice thundered in both their heads. "Hey, Steele! What the hell are you doing with my guest!"