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

"Hmm," Darren sunk his hands in his pockets, shoulders broad as his eyes danced around her rigid face. "Are you really declaring war against us just now? The entire government versus a silly investment company. Seems pretty unfair, don't you think?"

She folded her arms, studying him, hating that hidden smirk that she knew he had behind that bleak mask on his face. "I never said that there is war. I only made it clear that the possibility of further altercations and issues between us depends on the findings that could be made now or in the future."

"Now or in the future?" Darren's brow raised inquisitively. "Isn't it already decided that there's nothing illegal going on here? Are you not yet done?"

Vance kicked in. "Yeah. I think it's fair to ask that this impromptu inspection be brought to an end since you've been unable to find anything damning. Also, the employees would like to return to their separate posts so duties of the day can go on."

Lilian looked at him, and then at Darren. "I must talk privately with you before I leave."

Darren's eyes widened curiously.

"Talk privately?" Daisy interfered. "Mr. Steele, I advise that you be with either Vance or me in meetings li—"

"It's okay, Daisy," Darren said, not looking away from Lilian. "I can handle this."

He walked past the rest of the team and left the room with Lilian. They didn't say anything throughout, until they left the elevator and entered Darren's office.

Lilian huffed as she looked around, unable to hide her quick admiration of the room. It was a study in cold power. It had one large floor-to-ceiling window framing the brooding city, minimalist furniture in gunmetal grey, a single abstract painting bleeding dark colors.

She looked at the large oak table in the center for a while. The silence was thick, charged.

Lilian didn't sit. She stood before the vast desk, still staring at it like she could imagine the type of acts a young, agile man like him had done on a blade of dark oak as the table.

For a few moments, they both didn't say anything. Darren poured himself a glass of wine, and took a quick, stimulating gulp.

Lilian watched him with suppressed fury in the sterile space. Her storm-grey eyes in that moment held a dangerous, bruised intensity. The carefully constructed mask of the federal agent was fractured; beneath it pulsed raw, personal outrage.

Darren was starting to piss her off.

He moved to the window, his back to her for a moment, surveying his domain. The casual arrogance of it stoked her fire.

"You enjoy this, don't you?" Lilian said. Her voice was low, scraped raw, cutting through the quiet and hiding her growing anger. "The game. The control. Watching people dance on your strings."

Darren turned slowly. He leaned back against the window ledge, hands in his pockets, the picture of controlled ease. But his eyes, meeting hers, held no warmth. Only a chilling assessment. "I utterly have no idea what you're talking about, Agent Greaves."

"Pfft," she hissed. "Give me a break."

"I would like nothing but to do that, Agent Greaves. You've worked yourself really hard and deserve a rest."

They remained locked at each other's heavy gaze.

Darren took another sip. "But to answer your question, Agent Greaves. This is more about survival than any other thing. You came in here swinging an axe. But you failed to note that our house has always been in order."

"In order?" A cold, mirthless laugh escaped her. "You built a hall of mirrors. Polished surfaces reflecting exactly what you want seen. Meticulously documented lies." She took a step closer, the space between them crackling. "Don't insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise."

"All assertions. You have no proof," Darren said. "You see, even now... this transparency you're asking for, it has its own limits. Especially when the investigator seems more interested in a scalp than the truth."

Her chin lifted. There he was again, bringing her father into the conversations. First, she was still bitter about him even knowing about it, but him using it against her felt like a phantom limb, throbbing.

"You know nothing about me, Darren Steele," she hardened, glaring at him.

"And you, me." Darren responded, meeting her where she was. "Are you still going to keep giving me fragments of a false truth or are you going to give up and accept that you and your bodies at Financial Integrity were wrong?"

She almost smirked, but hissed, rather. "You don't fool me one bit, Darren Steele. All those fragments of truths build up like pieces of a puzzle and form the hidden secret, don't they? You and I both know that something rotten lives inside this company of yours."

Darren's jaw tightened, though his eyes remained cold.

Lilian took that as an opportunity to push further. "Something you've wrapped in layers of code and shell companies and plausible deniability." She jabbed a finger towards the server wing. "R. Talmor wasn't just a vendor. John Brittle wasn't just a landlord. That Navarro facility isn't just storing containers. It's a node. A ghost in your machine. And I felt myself getting closer to it today, you corrupt buffoon."

Darren's expression remained impassive, even though he felt the strong temptation to laugh at her face. "You're in the business of facts over feelings, Agent. Get your priorities straight."

Lilian gagged.

"Feeling isn't evidence, so why should I panic about what tickles your fragile heart and your incessant obsession to avenge an unfortunate death." Darren went lower. "Your investigation found nothing. Legally, you're done here."

He stepped closer slightly. "Done."

His tone was dismissive, final.

Lilian closed the remaining distance, stopping just short of his lips. She leaned forward, palms tightened to fists, meeting his gaze unblinkingly across the polished expanse. The air hummed with their proximity, a toxic mix of intellectual recognition and seething animosity.

"Don't you think for a second that I'm truly done with you." Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "Oh, I'm just getting started, Darren."

The use of his first name was deliberate, intimate, and utterly hostile. "You better get used to this face because you're going to be seeing it a lot. You just made this personal when you dragged my father into this. You showed me exactly who you are: a man who thinks the rules are for lesser mortals. A man who hides his dirty work behind firewalls and lawyers."

A muscle ticked in Darren's jaw. Then, he just sighed, truly fed up. He headed to his table. "Be careful what you wish for, Greaves. Some doors, once opened, can't be closed."

Lilian straightened up, pulling her composure around her like armor, though the fury still burned in her eyes. "Save the threats for someone who scares easily. I'm not here to wish. I'm here to do my job."

She took a step back, her gaze sweeping over him, a predator memorizing its prey. "And my job is to follow the stench of illegality. It reeked in your server room today. You masked it well. Brilliantly, even." A cold, acknowledging tilt of her head. "But you can't mask it forever. But just know this, Darren Steele..."

She turned towards the door, a figure of contained power radiating finality. Pausing with her hand on the handle, she looked back at him one last time.

"This isn't over," she stated, the words ice-cold and absolute. "I will be back. And next time, I will tear your meticulously documented order apart brick by digital brick, and find out every single thing you're hiding. Count on it."

"Very well then," Darren responded lightheartedly. "How I wish there was a betting man close by. This would have been a tasty bet."

Saying nothing but giving him a final glare, Lilian pulled the door open and walked out.