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

The day before:

Darren had brought Ileana into the Complex late at evening. That way, there weren't many in the office when they entered.

She had been awed by the place, but Darren's cutthroat behavior and straightforwardness left her no time to admire the beautiful dome.

They entered his office. When he closed the door, gently, all she could think of was what he wanted. Was this good or was it bad?

Pale light filtered into the office, the last warmth of a long California sunset brushing softly across the dark oak of his desk. The blinds were drawn halfway, casting a diagonal pattern over the carpet and catching dust motes that hung suspended in the silence.

Darren sat down and motioned for her to follow. After she did, they said nothing for a moment and silence ruled.

The room its breath as well, like the walls were aware of the weight about to be placed on this conversation.

Sitting across from him, Ileana tried to be as poised as she could, her hands folded neatly over her lap. She hadn't touched the cup of tea she had grabbed from the coffee maker, and though her expression remained passive, Darren had learned to read beneath stillness.

There was tension behind her calm. Not fear. Something older. Something she'd worn like armor long before ever setting foot in the Steele Complex.

Darren closed the folder in front of him and leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, eyes focused solely on her.

"You've been quiet since the vault job," he said, voice even.

Ileana blinked once, softly as she thought of a response. "I was... waiting for you to tell me what to do."

"Hmm, interesting," he replied.

Ileana licked her lips nervously, hesitating once before she spoke with a courageous breath. "You're not sure about me."

He didn't answer that directly. Instead, he tapped a finger once against the folder, then looked up again.

"Do you want this?" he asked.

Her brows dipped just slightly.

"This role," he clarified. "Not just the desk or the paycheck. What I'm offering is more than a job title. It's more than running code for logistics. If you say yes to this, you become one of us, Ileana. Do you understand that?"

Her eyes softened, darting between him and the file. "I..."

"You carry what we carry. Our plans. Our leverage. Our risks. You make personal sacrifices for the betterment of the company and you earn the great benefits that come with it. So before I let you sign anything — really sign anything — I need to hear it from you."

Ileana didn't look away. Her voice was soft but clear.

"I... want it."

Darren studied her, searching for hesitation. There was none in her words, but there was something else in her silence. Something deeper.

Ding!

┏This person is being honest!┛

"Why?" he asked, sitting back.

This time, she did look away; just slightly, to the side, toward the muted skyline beyond the window.

"Because of you," she replied, her accent emphasizing the word 'you.'

Darren's brow narrowed.

"Noone ever gave me a way out," she said. "When Skinner died, I thought I was finally free but the Triad treated me even worse. If not for you..." She tightened her lips before continuing. "I would have been left with Rathead."

Darren gazed at her. "The big guy?"

She nodded.

There was a quiet in that admission that held more history than she'd spoken aloud. She didn't elaborate, and Darren didn't press. Not yet.

He leaned back in his chair and opened the folder again.

"Is that why you lied to me?"

Ileana's shoulders tensed and she snapped her head up.

Darren had a second file pulled out, thinner, with a small paperclip and a yellow post-it Kara had scribbled across the top: It's the one thing that doesn't line up.

He set the paper down in front of him but didn't slide it toward her. Not yet.

"You said there's no crime tying you to the Triad," he said. "That everything was hidden."

Ileana nodded slowly.

"But there is," he continued. "Leviticus is the codename you used."

She froze. Eyes already turning grave and sad.

"Kara found an operation," Darren went on, his voice quiet, even. "A hit. Digital at first. Then physical. Back in '08. It was a bank in Istanbul. Small, independent.Their ledger was burned and their manager resigned. The lead tech contractor — one of the only people who testified against the Triad in a smaller side case — was found dead three months later."

He flipped the page.

"Evidence was never filed properly, but one of the original attack scripts was traced to a coder with the alias Leviticus."

Silence settled like cold smoke between them.

"You didn't list this in your background," Darren said. "Not in your verbal debrief, not on your clearance questionnaire, not even when we spoke about clean slates. You didn't think we would find out about your other alias?"

Ileana's face turned pale with fear and panic. A sad, desperate kind of fear. She parted her lips to speak and her voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper.

"I thought… I thought if I told you, you'd walk away."

She kept her eyes down now, the tips of her fingers trembling slightly where they touched the seam of her turtleneck sleeve.

"I didn't know what they were going to do with that script. I wrote it under Skinner's orders, but I didn't think they'd—" She stopped, exhaled slowly. "They handled it. Quieted the fallout. It never made the news cycle. I was told it was over."

"And you believed them?" Darren asked.

She flinched, just slightly, and her hands folded tighter in her lap.

"No," she admitted. "Yes? I don't know. I had to believe them. I didn't have a choice."

"But you had a choice when I asked you to tell me the truth."

"I know."

"Yet you didn't."

"I'm sorry!" she almost cried. "I just didn't want you to throw me away. If I told you, you wouldn't have taken me with you. I'm so sorry."

Darren said nothing and just watched her.

He let the silence hang for a long time. The only sound was the hum of the air vent above them, and the faint creak of the building settling into evening.

When he finally spoke, his tone had shifted — softer, but heavier.

"Ileana, I'm giving you more access than most people get in a lifetime. Not just to our systems, but to me. I can't afford ghosts sneaking through our firewalls."

She nodded slowly, her voice trembling at the edge. "I understand."

"I need to know," he said, "that this is the last surprise."

She looked up, eyes meeting his again. And for the first time since she stepped into his world, her composure tightened as she fought off the worries of her past:

"Yes. I promise. No more lies. No more surprises."

Darren nodded once.

Then, without another word, he pulled a cream-colored folder from his drawer, opened it, and slid a single document toward her.

Her contract.

She read it carefully, line by line, her breath slow and shallow. Then she reached for the pen resting beside it. Just before she signed, she looked up at him again.

"I know what people see when they look at me," she said quietly. "But when I look at you... I see the man who got me out. I want you... to count on me."

Ding!

┏This person is being honest!┛

"We'll see about that then," Darren said, the stillness in his eyes deepening as he watched her sign.

When she was done, she passed the pen back across the desk, and when he reached for it, their fingers brushed.

Darren didn't move his hand for a second. Nor did she. Their eyes locked, but he merely said:

"Welcome to the team," and acted like nothing happened.

"Thank you," Ileana whispered her response.

She pulled her hand back, flustered, tucking her hair behind one ear and adjusting her turtleneck with a nervous motion that betrayed the vulnerability she was still learning to hide less.

Darren stood to leave, gathering the folder.

But just as he stepped toward the door, she moved instinctively in the same direction — blocking him by accident.

Their proximity was sudden.

Close enough that her breath hitched slightly. Close enough that he could see the flicker of panic in her eyes at having stepped in his path. Her back was nearly to the door.

He tilted his head just a little, and in a voice too soft for anyone else to hear, said—

"You're in the way, Ileana."

Her cheeks flushed faintly. She turned aside quickly, almost awkwardly, tugging at the collar of her turtleneck as she murmured, "Sorry," and stepped aside.

He passed by her without comment, his expression unreadable, and disappeared down the corridor.

Behind him, Ileana stood alone in his office, one hand still resting on the edge of his desk, the other curled around her sleeve.

Redness was all over her face.