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

Nobody expected Brooklyn to have a difficult time getting accustomed to her new job as Head of PR.

She had known Darren since his rise and had been in the Complex multiple times throughout the course of its growth and early stages. The entire building wasn't new to her and so running a section of it was not at all difficult.

Darren had given her one of the biggest unused rooms in the building. It consisted of multiple smaller rooms and an office just for her.

Since that was the case, the entire place was termed The Public Relations Wing.

A worker arrived very few moments later to hammer the inscription on the wall leading to the wing. This new aspect of Steele Investments sat on the east end of the third floor, nestled behind a frosted-glass partition that still bore the faded name of a now defunct design firm that once operated there during the Complex's earlier days.

The office had been dormant for months — left as a fallback space for overflow meetings and unused admin desks — but today, the room was alive with motion.

With Brooklyn's orders, work began at earnest.

Of course, she stood at the center of it all, her heels clicking against the polished concrete as she watched the movers work. They slid desks into place, plugged in monitors, and rolled whiteboards against the walls with quiet efficiency.

She had rolled her head back and tied it in a ponytail while she folded her blazer across the back of the chair behind her. She pointed to where she wanted some things to get and where she didn't. Throughout it all, she had a strict expression on her face — professional, commanding, yet far from aloof.

It was clear she took this new job very seriously. Whatever the true reason for that was... remained a mystery.

Stacks of boxes bearing the old logo of her media studio — The Baker Editorial — lined one wall, filled with lighting kits, recording equipment, framed press photos, and hard drives marked vaulted footage.

A pair of large cabinets were being arranged at the far end, where her lead editors and content managers were unpacking everything from camera tripods to cables, tapping away on their laptops to set up secured servers and scheduling dashboards.

When Brooklyn had accepted the job from Darren, she did so on one condition: He would let her bring her team in and all of them would be under his payroll.

Darren, seeing that it saved him the time to go looking for new employees to fill up the team, agreed to the terms.

"Since they're people you trust, then I'm onboard with it. Salary will be under company limit so don't push it, Brook."

She had smiled.

Now, the teams were slowly choosing their chairs, some selected any, while others argued or bargained for others.

Across the room, seated by the bay window that overlooked the edge of the financial district, Amelia was quietly flipping through a portfolio binder, jotting notes in her usual meticulous hand.

Miranda, younger and softer-spoken, but no less efficient, stood beside her, holding a smaller folder and occasionally glancing around with the analytical gaze of someone cataloguing what this place would look like in a week, two weeks, three.

"It is kinda odd seeing her in person," Miranda murmured, half to Amelia, half to herself. "I remember when I used to watch her in Business Everyday. She was more..."

"Bitchy?" Amelia said and looked at her.

Miranda panicked. "I... I wouldn't say that."

Amelia smiled faintly. "Well she was. And I think that it's pretty cool to have someone like that working for us. Especially as a PR manager."

Brooklyn clapped her hands once, grabbing the two women's attention alongside the rest of her new team.

They were all sitting now at their selected seats when she turned to face them. Brooklyn stood near the long central table as all ten of them watched her intently. She walked toward them with her usual poise, voice clear and low.

"I know most of you are excited about the newer... bigger office but don't let the extravagance of our new location fool you. We work for someone now."

She went to the board and scribbled the company's name. "Welcome to Steele Investments," she began. "You're not at the studio anymore. This isn't about following celebrities, the business of the world, or rushing after leaked photos with hunger and manipulative deals."

She paused, letting their attention settle fully.

"You're now the in-house PR and media team for Darren Steele," she said. "That means everything we release, every statement we craft, every interview we greenlight, will influence how this company — and its founder — is perceived across the board. You see how tall of an order that is, don't you?"

Heads nodded.

"But I didn't bring you here because you're good at what you did before. I brought you here because you can adapt, because you're fast, and because you know how to make the truth work in your favor."

She pointed to the wide monitor at the far end of the room, where the Bloomberg ticker rolled with headlines about federal crypto policy shifts.

"You've seen the news," she said. "The government is circling Bitcoin with fire in its eyes. They're not coming with regulations. They're coming with undermining. They're sending letters to companies with vague 'requests for clarification.' They're contacting exchanges to 'voluntarily disclose' major wallet activity. They're floating the idea of classifying decentralized crypto assets as unregistered securities. All of that is happening now."

She turned slowly, making eye contact with each of her team members.

"If we allow Steele Investments to become 'that Bitcoin company,' we lose control of the narrative. That kind of labeling directs not just media scrutiny, but federal heat. Darren becomes a symbol. And symbols make great headlines when the government needs to show they're cracking down."

She walked back toward the center, her voice steel beneath velvet.

"So here's the new story."

She held up a printed media plan, flipping it open with a snap.

"We shift the lens. Darren's profile will be reframed around innovation, philanthropy, and vision. We emphasize his portfolio diversity—startups, tech, infrastructure, humanitarian projects. Bitcoin becomes a footnote, not a headline, while it secretly remains the core of this company without the mass finding out."

She turned to her team. "No more solo interviews. All contact requests come through us. We control the flow, we filter the questions, we dictate the narrative arc. Got it?"

They all nodded, some more eagerly than others.

Brooklyn's eyes settled briefly on Amelia and Miranda, who had walked forward with quiet precision. Amelia extended two folders toward her.

"Latest portfolio summaries," she said. "And a list of every project with public exposure risk tied to crypto mentions."

Brooklyn took them without missing a beat.

"Thank you."

She scanned the top page, nodded once, then looked up again.

"We're doing this in five steps," she continued. "First, we pivot public focus away from crypto. We spotlight our other ventures. AI labs, logistics in Nevarro, our warehousing expansion, Trendteller, Trendteller+, Delvarate, the climate-forward energy grid Darren's quietly investing in. Every one of those becomes front-facing in our press pipeline."

She turned, gesturing.

"Second: All interviews and media contact go through us. No more casual soundbites. We own the voice."

"Third: We'll build a weekly thought-leadership newsletter, curated in Darren's tone, that talks about innovation, tech ethics, future cities — anything but Bitcoin. We shape the narrative."

"Fourth: Charitable ties. Darren's supporting education and development? Let's shine a spotlight on that. Community. Technology. Uplift. We'll partner with key NGOs and local outreach networks. This frames him not as a money-hungry investor but as a civic leader."

Then she paused, tilting her head. "And of course... the Pantheon Club."

"This here is the major move," she said. "Steele Investments will be launching The Pantheon Club very soon— Darren's high-profile private equity circle for celebrities, tastemakers, and legacy fund managers in Los Alverez. It's already in the works, but we'll escalate the schedule. We push a gala, give it a curated guest list, press coverage, maybe even a charity angle. Make it loud enough to trend, but polished enough to seem prestigious."

Miranda raised a brow. "She's doing a diversion play."

Amelia looked at her. "You know PR terms?"

Miranda shrugged nervously. "I did a little journalism in college."

Brooklyn continued. "While eyes are there, we freeze external chatter about anything blockchain-related. All crypto references in our materials get downgraded to 'digital asset diversification.' No mention of holdings or mining. No offshore conversation. We cloak it all."

She set the folder down and looked back at the team.

"I'll assign task leads after lunch. But for now? You all know the drill. Time to get to work."

There was a ripple of motion as the team turned, splitting into focused clusters around the room. Desks came to life. Keyboards clicked. Calls were made.

Amelia and Miranda remained where they stood, exchanging a look.

"She's sharp," Miranda said.

"She's more than sharp," Amelia replied. "She's calculated."

They both watched Brooklyn for another moment as she crossed the room to review the equipment setup with one of her video editors.

"I think she's going to do just fine here," Amelia said.

Miranda smiled. "No doubt."