Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 60: Price of Silence

The door opened and closed in a hurry. Gareth Smithers stepped out of the lavish office and rested his back on the door.

He exhaled, long and deep, his shoulders loosening slightly. He had always been fearful of meetings with Richard Morrison, the man's aura was really terrifying.

But at least Morrison had given his word. This mess would go away.

He sneered.

'Those bastards think they could tarnish my career.'

The thought fueled his irritation. A bunch of disgruntled nobodies trying to pull him down? He had built Smithers Group into a financial juggernaut, an investment advisory firm that managed billions in capital, oversaw high-profile investment trends, and safeguarded financial transactions for the elite.

His reputation was everything, and he wasn't about to let it be destroyed by insufferable, meddling kids with their naïve sense of justice.

This was going to go away. Nothing would happen to him. He reminded himself.

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But then, his thoughts drifted into what had happened back inside the office.

Ryan Anders had leaned back against the window, his gaze as cold as the glass he looked through.

His presence was deceptively relaxed, hands tucked behind his back, lips curled in a smirk that never quite reached his eyes.

"Is there anyone who could testify against you?" Ryan asked. "Anyone that, if the media gets to, could give good reasons with evidence for some of the claims against you?"

His tone was calm, casual even, but Gareth knew better. This wasn't a question. It was a warning.

Ryan's fingers drummed lightly against the back of his hand. "Moon Wealth Management Offices can only manage your wealth and profile if you're thorough. Tell me now so we can deal with them quickly. Settle them with a fitting price."

Gareth had swallowed thickly. "I'll think of names."

Ryan had only smiled.

Now, standing in the hallway, Gareth already had one name in mind.

Darren Steele.

That fucker.

The one who had started all of this. The one who had given everyone the audacity to challenge him.

If Darren hadn't dared to resign, if he hadn't been so insistent, the others wouldn't have had the courage to come forward.

Gareth's jaw tightened. He needed Steele silenced.

He turned to his left, where a woman stood in poised stillness, waiting for him.

"Rachel."

She stepped forward gracefully, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

She was Rachel Teschmacher.

Gareth's stunning personal secretary.

Rachel was the kind of woman that commanded attention with just her presence. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

Not the soft, delicate kind, but the kind that turned heads and made men forget their words. The kind that terrified people, that made them know it was safe to only admire not speak.

Her rich dark brown hair cascaded over one eye, giving her this enthralling style of mystery and seduction.

Her face was flawless, full lips painted in a muted red, and her only visible eye shone silver-blue. An eye that rarely betrayed emotion.

She was dressed in a fitted crimson blouse tucked into a pencil skirt that hugged every perfect curve, her toned legs accentuated by black stilettos.

Rachel was very reserved and quiet. Many had these opinions of her in the office, calling her the Silent Witch.

Not because she barely spoke, but also because whenever a conversation was going on, once she passed through, everyone would fall silent and stare or hide their faces.

She looked at Gareth with quiet patience. "Yes, sir?"

"Darren Steele," he said. "You remember that boy, don't you?"

Rachel's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker, a slight tension in the way she adjusted her stance. She folded her arms, lips parting as if to say something, then closing again.

"Yes," she said finally. "I remember."

Gareth spoke without care. "He lives in Malegreen Street. Lily will tell you the house. I want you to go there and reach a settlement with him."

Rachel tilted her head slightly. "A settlement?"

"Yes, a damn settlement! Keep his mouth shut," Gareth said bluntly. "Make him state a price, because I'm sure money is all a person like him needs. It's what he wanted in the first place, right?"

Rachel didn't know if that was a rhetorical question. However, she still nodded her head.

"But," Gareth continued, his voice dropping, "make sure he agrees and signs a contract to keep his mouth shut."

Rachel held his gaze for a long moment. Then she gave a single, professional nod.

"Understood. I will be on my way, sir."

She turned on her heels and strode down the hall, almost catwalking in a fluid, controlled, walking style as her heels clicked rhythmically.

»»»«««

Meanwhile, in Malegreen Street, Darren Steele frowned as he stepped up to his front door.

He hadn't been here for a few days, but he was certain that he had locked the door.

He pushed the door wider, stepping in cautiously, his body language tense. He scanned everywhere, but there was no one inside the house.

No footprints, no signs of a struggle. But in his bedroom, his laptop was open.

Darren cursed. What the hell happened here? He hurried to check the computer and as he expected, it was still locked.

Whoever had come in had attempted, but was unable to open it.

But then his eyes fell on something else.

A receipt copy on the edge of the desk, almost out of his line of sight.

It was a minor one for his property purchase in Greenbaby. He'd taken it to keep safe as well in this house, while the main copy remained in the mansion.

Darren's eyes narrowed.

Was this how Brooklyn Baker had found him?

His jaw clenched. He turned to his desk, fingers flying over his keyboard.

"System," he muttered, "withdraw all available information on Brooklyn Baker."

┏Brooklyn Baker...┛

┏...┛

This was a new Feature Darren had unlocked a few days ago called Personal Insight Protocol. It worked just the same as the one for companies, but gave in depth information on people rather.

Seconds later, her profile appeared on his screen.

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

┏Personal Insight Protocol is complete┛

┏Information on subject is as follows┛

┏Full Name: Brooklyn Andrea Baker

Age: 28

Occupation: Investigative Journalist, Senior Correspondent at Business Everyday

Education: Columbian University, Journalism

Awards: Pulitzer Prize Finalist, Investigative Journalism Award (2009), Truthseeker's Honor Medal

Address: 42 Pinecone Lane, Evergreen, CO 80439

Phone Number: (303) 555-0127┛

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

Darren scanned quickly through it all, and once he got her number, he dialed.

Brooklyn was striding hastily into a tall brownstone building, a file clutched in her hand.

She had been chasing leads all day, and this was her next stop. As her phone buzzed in her pocket, she pulled it out and answered without stopping.

"Brooklyn Baker here. How can I help you?"

"Did you break into my house?" Darren demanded.

Brooklyn paused, checked the number and frowned.

"Who's this?" She then recognized the voice. "Is this Darren Steele? Ha—" She chuckled. "How did you get my number?"

Darren's fingers clenched around the phone. "Did you break into my house? Did you search it? Is that how you found my new address?"

She gave a soft, amused hum. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Steele. But I am flattered that you went through the trouble of getting my number. Do save it. I'm saving yours."

She ended the call before he could respond and slipped the phone back into her pocket. Her expression smoothed as she reached a door, rapping her knuckles against it.

"Hello? Miss Sandy Meyers?" she called, tilting her head slightly to listen for movement inside. "I was hoping I could have a moment of your time."

—

Back in his house, Darren scowled, his fists clenching. 'If she was the one wh—

Knock. Knock

His entire body went still. Thinking that could be the intruder returning, Darren quietly walked to the kitchen and grabbed a knife.

The knock came again.

He moved carefully, silently, blade in hand. Then, with a careful exhale, he cracked the door slightly open to see who it was.

A woman.

He opened it fully, hiding the knife behind him.

Not just any woman, it was the Silent Witch standing before him, looking up at him with those sharp, unreadable eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Steele," Rachel Teschmacher greeted.