Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 59: Shadow Deal

There weren't many offices as opulent as this one.

It reeked of wealth and affluence, the very air thick with the scent of old money and power.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a panoramic view of the city skyline, its twinkling lights illuminated the polished mahogany furniture with a glow of gold.

At the center of the room was a vast, handcrafted desk that boasted of perfectly crafted gold inlays, its surface gleaming under the warm glow of an ornate chandelier.

Plush leather chairs sat in invitation, and the scent of aged whiskey mingled with the faint trace of imported cigars.

Every detail — marble floors, oil paintings of historic magnates, the quiet hum of an air purifier — whispered of a man who had clawed his way to the top and intended to stay there.

But despite the grandeur, a visitor appeared to be having a bad hair day of sorts.

Gareth Smithers looked anything but composed. He sat in a chair, his thick fingers drumming anxiously on the desk, his face pale beneath his neatly groomed blond hair.

He grunted and rubbed his face. On his hand was a handwriting note with details of his recent scandal. Gareth was filled with unease as he exhaled sharply and said,

"What do you think, Richard?"

The man seated beside him barely moved at first.

He exuded an effortless confidence, his presence commanding in a way that required no theatrics.

Richard Morrison was in his early fifties, yet time had only refined him, not diminished him.

He was a man whose charm came as naturally as breathing. He had features that women of any age would drool at the sight of.

His face was strikingly symmetrical. He possessed sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline. His eyes were domineering and dark, always seeming to see more than they let on.

He wore a tailored intricately crafted suit. Black with linings of regal blue, and cufflinks made of real silver.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was smooth and deliberate, the kind that could sell a dream or a nightmare with equal ease.

"A damn shame Archibald couldn't see to this himself," he said with a soft sigh. "I have my own problems to deal with."

His eyes moved to Gareth, seeing the fear in his eyes.

"Well," Richard said, crossing one leg over the other, "it's not ideal, Gareth. But it's also not unsalvageable. The press is a beast— it feeds on scandal, but it also gets bored quickly. The key is to redirect its hunger elsewhere."

Gareth exhaled heavily, running a hand over his face once more. "Goddamn vultures. Those kids, those insufferable meddling kids. They want to ruin me. And those allegations are absolute lies! You know me, Richard."

Richard tilted his head slightly, a blank look on his face. "Do I?"

Gareth scowled. "Damn it, Richard. This could bury me."

Richard leaned back, inspecting the cuff of his sleeve before answering. "It could. If you let it."

Gareth heaved a sigh and sat back, tapping his feet on the ground restlessly. He eyed Richard Morrison and swallowed. To be honest, he was intimidated by the man. Greatly.

Even though Archibald was richer and more powerful than Richard, Gareth still had a closer friendship with him because of his eruptive character.

But Richard was too enigmatic for Gareth to figure out.

He was no ordinary businessman. In fact, he had started as a doctor, a young and ambitious man who had once sworn to heal.

But healing alone had never been enough, not when he saw the kind of money that passed hands in the world of medicine. He had built a reputation, a name, and then something far more valuable: influence.

From his private practice, he had expanded into pharmaceuticals, then into medical technology. And then he invested in hospitals which led him into the world of business, taking him down the path of real estate and high-end security firms.

His company was amongst the only three Empire Companies in Calivernia. Morrison's Hospitals and Medical Group. However under his brand, Morrison's®, he owned multiple companies.

He owned Morrison's Capital, an investment firm with assets exceeding $40 billion, making it one of the largest private equity firms in the state.

Each quarter, Morrison Capital generated over $1.2 billion in revenue, with its real estate holdings alone spanning more than 50 commercial skyscrapers, 200 luxury properties, and 1,500 acres of prime urban land.

Beyond finance, Richard controlled Morrison's Biotech, a pharmaceutical giant valued at $60 billion, known for producing high-profit, patented medications.

The company owned five private research labs, six major production facilities, and a chain of hospitals under Morrison's Hospitals, which catered exclusively to the upper class.

His pharmaceuticals dominated 45% of the prescription drug market in the state, ensuring that even the most powerful individuals relied on him for their health.

Morrison's Global Security, one of his subsidiaries, employed over 3,000 ex-military and intelligence personnel, operating in both domestic and foreign sectors. Several governors and senators owed their safety to Morrison's men, granting him direct political leverage in state affairs.

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Even media was under his grasp. Richard held controlling shares in three major news networks, subtly shaping public narratives to suit his interests.

His PR firm, Morrison's Strategies, specialized in reputation management; silencing scandals, crushing political opponents, and elevating his allies.

One of the three major news networks he had shares in... was Business Everyday.

Richard was a multi billionaire. But even more than that, he was a force.

And now, Gareth Smithers was sitting in his office, and he watched the man with amusement at the desperation in his eyes.

"I could help you, Gareth," Richard finally said. "But… there's something I need from you in return."

Gareth frowned, leaning forward. "And what would that be?"

Richard's smile didn't falter. "Your company operates as a hybrid investment advisory and financial escrow service, correct? You help investors determine where to put their money, hold their funds until a deal is solidified, and then distribute accordingly."

Gareth nodded. "Yes, and?"

Richard steepled his fingers. "I need a particular transaction to disappear. A rather large sum, moved discreetly, without a trace."

Gareth's eyes narrowed. "You're asking me to launder money?"

Richard let out a low chuckle. "That's such an ugly word. No, I'm asking you to facilitate a business arrangement."

He looked at Gareth carefully. "Do not act like this is beneath you, Gareth. I'll feel insulted. A certain… asset of mine simply needs to move a substantial amount through legitimate channels. If your company were to oversee that transfer, ensuring no inconvenient eyes followed the trail, I'd consider your little PR nightmare taken care of."

Gareth hesitated, weighing the risk. Richard's influence was undeniable, but so was the danger of being caught in something like this. Still, if it meant survival…

He inhaled sharply. "Fine."

Richard's grin widened. "Good." Then he turned his head slightly, his gaze flickering toward the third man in the room.

"What do you think, Anders? Can you smoothen out this situation for your client? I give you the green light."

Ryan Anders had remained silent until now, standing by the expansive window, hands clasped behind his back.

He shared a striking resemblance to Richard, sharp features, a refined elegance, and an air of meticulous calculation. The sunlight reflected off the glass as he watched the cars drive by.

His voice, when it came, was smooth but laced with distraction. "My time and efforts are rather preoccupied with finding a certain mystery investor who's begun making waves in the rising cryptocurrency world."

Then he turned around, his gaze locking onto Gareth's. "But… I'm sure I can help you, Mr. Gareth."

Gareth swallowed hard, glancing between the two men.

"Good." Richard chuckled, unfolding a newspaper with a satisfied hum. "Very good."