Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 82: Compartment

Darren's car rolled down the quiet, humble streets of Malegreen.

It felt like he hadn't been here in an eternity even though it had just been a week. The neighborhood hadn't changed much; modest single-story homes lined the cracked sidewalks, their fences a mix of fresh paint and rusted metal.

A few children played on the pavement, kicking a half-deflated soccer ball back and forth.

When he drove past with his sleek, polished Aston, their heads turned in unison, small faces lighting up with curiosity. One boy pointed, nudging his friend.

"Woah, look at that car!"

"That's not from around here…"

Darren allowed himself a smile. He'd projected himself in that child for a moment, remembering how it felt to see fast cars when he was that age.

He pulled into the driveway of his old house.

The sight of it, the familiarity and yet the distance, it brought a strange feeling to his chest.

Nostalgia? Maybe. Regret? He wasn't sure.

He had scarcely set foot in this house since moving into the mansion, and only came when he needed to do something important. It kind of felt like he was abandoning his former simpler life.

But life was about change, was it not?

He got out of his car. He took out a bunch of keys from his cost and unlocked the house.

Ever since the break in, Darren had increased the security of the home. He'd also set some cameras inside.

Once the door opened, he stepped inside.

Ah, that scent.

Unlike the air freshened, air conditioned and perfumed scent of his mansion, the Malegreen house carried the scent of old wood and faint detergent, a smell that had been part of his childhood.

Yes, it was definitely nostalgia hitting him. .

Darren walked toward the kitchen and swung open the fridge. His eyes scanned the near-empty shelves until he spotted a familiar sight — an orange juice bottle.

A relieved sigh left his lips. Thank God. He unscrewed the cap and gulped it down, the cold citrus stinging his throat.

When the last drop was gone, he exhaled sharply. Then, suddenly, a memory surfaced.

The sharp and reprimanding voice of his mother.

"Darren! Stop finishing all the orange juice in one go! Other people live here, you know!"

He had laughed back then, brushing it off with a lazy grin.

Now, standing here alone, he let out a small chuckle before sighing. Doctor Holloway said she'll be home soon. That was good news. He had made sure of that.

Last time he visited, he had also sold the man two more future cures. That reminded him...

"System."

The purple screen flashed before him, its mechanical text filling his vision.

┏Dr. Leonard Holloway {Ally} — You have a present profit of $22,600,000 after selling four medicinal cures from the future to him.┛

Darren hummed in approval. 'Good. Some of that can go toward Kara's budget for the company's digital growth.'

Then he thought of something else.

'Leonard hasn't announced any of the cures yet.' Darren sighed and smiled. 'I made a good call with that man. It's nice to know that he's taking his time testing it over and over to be sure that the cures are safe before putting it out there.'

He exhaled again, shaking his head. 'He must also be getting more and more curious about me. Poor guy.'

But enough of that. Back to why he was here.

He walked into his old bedroom and crouched near the bed, stretching his hand underneath. His fingers found the hidden compartment built into the bedframe.

Darren felt relieved. He hadn't messed up the timeline. It was around this time he'd built that compartment.

Thank God. Again.

He pulled the compartment open and took out 'his collection.'

Sheets of paper, old notebooks, scribbled napkins — ideas upon ideas, years of calculations and strategies.

It wasn't like nonsensical stash. This was where he had written down every business concept, every investment plan that had ever crossed his mind.

Gareth Smithers had always requested both the rough drafts and the final layouts when taking ideas from his employees.

But Darren worked differently.

He had drafts of drafts. Papers where he scribbled the thoughts and ideas, then the paper where he scribbled the plan and the ideas and then the paper where he finalized and laid it out.

The last two papers was what he would submit to Gareth, but the first always stayed with him, locked in his compartment of business ideas

He didn't exactly do it out of foresight, not because he expected this day would come.

No, it was just habit. Like an artist keeping their original sketches. He had always found something special in those rough pages.

Flipping through them, memories resurfaced.

One in particular stood out. A simple investment strategy he had created a few months ago.

He had mapped out a market trend, predicting a sharp rise in demand for a certain raw material due to upcoming government regulations.

The graphs he presented had shown a clear path: invest early before the price surge, then sell at the peak. Smithers had taken the plan, executed it with brutal precision, and walked away with a $70 million profit from a single move.

This was worth a heavy sue.

Darren clenched his jaw.

With these documents, he had undeniable proof — proof that Smithers had been feeding off his work, presenting them as his own.

He packed the papers neatly into a waterproof file.

As he turned to leave, his eyes flicked to the mirror table. A small, familiar object sat there.

A pack of cigarettes.

Darren's gaze lingered.

The system had been warning him about his smoking habit. Sometimes using quotes!

┏Better to spend money on other things than issues that could have been avoided."┛

And... ┏You can't spend money if you die young.┛

It even assigned him daily quests to quit.

But, a single smoke wouldn't kill him.

Darren reached for the pack, but the system blared red in his vision.

┏DANGEROUS SUBSTANCE! AVOID!┛

Darren frowned. "Come on. A single smoke wouldn't hurt."

┏DISCIPLINE IS THE KEY TO SUCCESS.┛ ┏DANGEROUS SUBSTANCE. AVOID!┛

"Alright, alright, jeez." He let go of the pack, shaking his head. "You're like a nagging girlfriend."

With the file in hand, he walked outside, not noticing a woman approaching some distance from his left.

He locked the door and was about to leave the porch when her voice froze him mid-step.

"Darren?"

He stayed still for a moment, then turned.

Sandy stood a few feet away, hands clutching the straps of her casual handbag, her expression a mix of shock and confusion.

Her gaze darted between him and his car. "Is this… your car? Wha— wh— Where have you been?"

'Sandy?' Darren thought. 'Sandy's here?'

He parted his lips to speak, not even sure what he was going to say, but then came a formal black vehicle that pulled up behind his.

Darren's brows furrowed.

A woman stepped out. She was dark-haired, dressed in professional attire, confident and poised. She strode toward him with purpose.

"Good day, Mr. Darren Steele."

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Darren narrowed his eyes.

"My name is Amelia Forrest. I'm a representative of Moon Wealth Management Offices. I was hoping I could have a moment of your time."

What? Moon Wealth?

Before he could process that, another voice called out.

"Darren?"

He lifted his head up, this time to see Lily Smithers.

She was dressed in casual pink clothes, hands stuffed into her hoodie pockets, her blonde hair arranged in a ponytail. Her eyes pleading and desperate.

"Darren, please," she said softly. "Can we talk?"

Darren was out of words at this point. His gaze darted between the three women.

'What the fuck is happening?'