Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 115: Mother’s Passion

Darren eased his Aston Martin One-77 through the winding private streets of Greenbaby, the engine's low growl cutting through the stillness of the late night.

The street was cloaked in darkness, save for the bright silver of beautiful street lamps high above his car, casting long shadows across the pavement.

Listening to an Eminem track, he bobbed his head softly according to the tune as the cool and crisp, brushed against his face from his rolled down windows, carrying the faint scent of pine from the surrounding woods.

Darren had left Penelope's house two hours ago. The visit had ended with him finishing the food she made him to the plate and then gulping down a box of orange juice that he had elevated to see her bring.

Then, after offering a handshake to Mr. Castle, the man had pulled him towards himself and gave him a deep hug rather, saying that Darren was now part of the family.

If that meant that he was giving him his daughter's hand on marriage, Darren wasn't sure. He certainly wouldn't oppose it.

But he wasn't sure.

Penelope had them escorted him out of the building, and even though the tension of their failed kiss from earlier lingered, they didn't attempt another.

They only shared phone numbers and Darren decided that would be enough for now.

However, even now, — especially now — his mind was a storm of Penelope.

That altercation — sharp words, sharper looks — kept replaying like a looped track. She had eyes that made him feel like the best person in the world. Like he could commit acts that everyone would deem atrocious and condemn him, yet she would still give him that gaze of admiration and innocence.

It felt selfish, he couldn't lie, but he wanted to be selfish with her.

Penelope made him feel raw, exposed, like some fumbling high school kid again, tripping over his own feet to impress her. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, the leather creaking under his palms.

He couldn't shake her off. But he also didn't want to.

The mansion loomed ahead, its silhouette a jagged outline against the night sky.

Lights glowed softly from the lower windows, while the quiet softness of the night made its beautiful noises.

Darren pulled into the driveway, the tires crunching over gravel, and killed the engine, shutting Eminem up.

For a moment, he just sat there, the silence settling around him like a heavy coat. Then he stepped out, and the cool night air brushed against him even more as he made his way to the front door.

He looked down and realized he wasn't wearing his blazer. His red tie was dangling with the cool breeze, and his white shirt stuck to his skin.

Darren smiled. Had Penelope intentionally kept his blazer?

Pushing the thought away with a shake of his head, he reached for the handle of the door, but it swung open by itself and there stood his mother, Pamela, her silhouette framed by the golden light spilling from the foyer.

She was in a simple robe, her brown hair pulled back loosely, and her seemingly dull eyes lit up at the sight of him.

"Darren," she said, her voice soft but carrying that familiar maternal weight. "You're back late. Everything alright?"

He gave a big smile, accepting her hug as he stepped inside. Then he closed the door behind him. "Everything is alright, Mom. Just… a long day that's all."

She tilted her head, studying him in that way she always did— like she could see straight through to the marrow of him. "A long day for my 21 year old boy."

"Mhm?" Darren looked at her with a side eye. "21 year old man seems more appropriate, don't you think?"

Pamela beamed playfully at him. "No. Now come on, sit with me a minute. I've missed hearing your voice around here."

"I was barely gone a day, mom."

"A day?! My, I thought it was weeks!"

They settled in the living room, the faint hum of the heater filling the quiet. Pamela folded her hands in her lap, her gaze steady. "White shirt, red tie, polished shoes. Your father was only a mechanic. He would have been so amazed by what you've become."

Darren lowered his eyes.

Pamela noticed. "And proud," she quickly added.

Darren said "Yeah."

Pamela's voice softened when she spoke next. "Don't you think it's time?"

Darren lifted his head, understanding what she was asking but pretending otherwise.

"I've been as patient as possible, Dare Bear. A mother falls ill in a bungalow and wakes up in a mansion, she would have a lot of questions." She played with his hair and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Tell me how you did it. If it's anything dangerous, I'm too comfortable to be angry with you."

Darren sighed and leaned back, running a hand through his hair that his mom had just destroyed.

This was the part he'd rehearsed — not the full truth, of course, but enough to satisfy her.

"It was Bitcoin," he started with a measured tone.

Pamela's eyebrows lifted, impressed but not entirely surprised. "Bitcoin? You mean the computer thing you were always talking about?"

"Yes."

"Oh I see. So it's this Bitcoin that's made you rich?"

Darren hesitated. "Not completely."

He explained as much as he could without telling her everything. He even confessed about loaning from the Red Fang, and even though Pamela's knee jerk reaction was to worry, he explained to her how he'd handled it.

She didn't understand many of the Bitcoin terminologies, so Darren used that to his advantage. Not needing to mention the system that helped him, or the fact that the person she was talking to was actually her son from 10 years in the future who had already seen her die.

After he was done, Darren wasn't quite sure what to expect, but Pamela reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"It's okay, Darren," she murmured against his shoulder. "I always knew you'd do special things."

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Darren mumbled against her own shoulder. "You're not mad?"

"Mad? How can I be mad at you for taking the risks to save my life? For following your dreams? Your intuition? What kind of mother would do that?"

Darren exhaled, then added the next part. "Uncle Jared wasn't the one who paid the hospital bill. I was. He actually left us but I didn't know how to tell you."

"I know," she said.

He pulled back, searching her face. "You knew?"

Pamela shrugged softly. "I mean... I suspected it was you who paid the bill. I know Jared left us, I thought I was protecting you by not telling you, but it seemed you already knew and you were protecting me."

She laughed, a light, airy sound. "I'm proud. So proud. But…" Her smile faltered, and she looked down at her hands. "It does make me feel a little worthless, I suppose."

"Worthless?" Darren frowned, leaning forward. "Mom, you're anything but that. Why would you even say that?"

She sighed, her fingers twisting the edge of her robe. "You're so young, Dare Bear, and already you've got everything — money, this house, a future most people only dream of. I feel like my job as your mother is done. You really don't need me anymore. And here I am, rattling around in this big place with nothing to do but chat with Gladys."

Darren chuckled despite himself. "Gladys is great company, though."

Pamela's lips quirked up. "Oh, she is. Keeps me on my toes with her stories."

Then she got silent for a while as Darren stared at her. She heaved a sigh. "Oh, don't mind me, son. Maybe I'm just tired. It's been a long day, and my head's full of nonsense. I made spaghetti if you're hungry— it's in the kitchen. Now, I think I need a good night's rest to shake all this off."

She stood, brushing a hand over his shoulder as she passed. "Goodnight, Darren."

"Night, Mom," he called after her, watching her disappear down the hall.

Alone now, he leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Her words gnawed at him.

Darren's mom was only 42 — hardly old, still full of life. Had he been so caught up in his own world, in bringing her back, that he'd overlooked her in the process?

Of course she was going to be lonely in such a big house.

Even with the TV.

Darren wondered. What could he do?

She'd always had passions — gardening, painting, even that brief stint trying to master the guitar. Maybe there was something he could come with me, a small business, a guitar class?

Some way to reignite that spark for her.

Frustrated, Darren exhaled. He'd figure it out. He had to.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, jolting him from his thoughts. He fished it out, glancing at the screen.

'Reminder: CheyenneLamb sent you a friend request.'

He stared at it, raising an eyebrow. 'I almost forgot,' he said inwardly. 'I finally linked my wallet to my Gmail. So the FuglyDuckling account is officially mine.'

He tapped the notification, and the app opened with a prompt:

'Please complete your profile: put profile picture.'

Darren sighed, slumping back into the couch. "I've got time on my hands," he said under his breath. "Might as well waste it on something vain."