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

The Vault Tracer Tool — the second reward given to Darren for claiming the missing Bitcoin was an asset. One that he intended to use immediately.

It was a system-integrated surveillance node capable of tracing shadow wallets, dead-end chains, and anonymized crypto movements. It used real-time siphon mapping, historical transaction reconstruction, and burner wallet connection tracing to do this.

Darren saw that there was a limitation though: It was usable once every 14 days. Then, it would need a cooldown.

To any normal crypto enthusiast in 2011, tracing Bitcoin wallets with serious anonymity protocols was close to science fiction. But to Darren Steele — with his system, his vision, and his timeline — it was a surgical opportunity.

After the meeting that morning, he sat alone in his office, blinds partially drawn, a cooling cup of black coffee untouched beside him. Staring at the system's screen, he leaned back in his chair and let the thoughts tumble forward.

"Three months," he muttered. "That's what Brooklyn's PR strategy can buy me. Three months of redirected media attention. And three months of unchecked acceleration in Bitcoin acquisition."

The system's interface pulsed faintly, running figures as he tapped in commands. His finger hovered over the tool's menu.

"I could use the Vault Tracer to trace Adam's holdings."

It was a seductive thought. He wasn't actually going to act on it — not yet. But knowing where Adam Scotland's personal wallet pools were layered would help Darren prepare.

Adam had scooped up a few thousand BTC in the last month, and that placed him technically in the lead by sheer volume in a single wallet. But total control? No — Darren still had the edge in distribution, security, and hidden reserves.

What he needed now… was more.

And not in a way the government could see.

He spun in his chair slightly, eyes narrowing. Brooklyn's PR cover wasn't just a way to make Steele Investments look good. It was a screen.

Behind the smiles, Darren had set up silent acquisition nodes. Micro-LLCs built to mask OTC deals. Phantom ledger gaps. Reserve wallets segmented across three separate jurisdictions.

And now, with the press zeroed in on community programs, social impact launches, and the celebrity club opening —

He could move. Fast.

The move was to expand as much as possible while the PR team drew people's focus elsewhere.

He opened a spreadsheet that linked to Kara's blockchain indexing tool — Steele Tech's early blueprint for crypto analysis. It wasn't ready yet, but he could feed it limited data through Vault Tracer to refine it ahead of launch.

"If I use the Vault Tracer next cycle," Darren murmured, "and align it with regional OTC trades, we could quietly sweep another 8,000 BTC without tripping alerts."

A smirk formed.

"No one's watching the bottom of the ocean, only the waves. Let them chase the waves."

He tapped one final command and locked the Vault Tracer into its cooldown phase.

Three light knocks on the door caught his attention.

Darren frowned, glancing at it. He didn't need to ask who it was, he already knew.

"Come in," he said, resting back on his chair.

Rachel stepped inside, her dark heels clicking against the wood, her posture upright but undeniably stiff. She closed the door gently behind her, then folded her arms as she remained standing just inside the office.

Her face wasn't angry. But it wasn't calm either.

It was tight. Controlled. And beneath it, her eyes carried something stormy.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

Darren acted calm, showing that he wasn't at all bothered by her upset face. "Do what?"

"You hired Ileana."

Darren wanted to sigh, but he didn't. He merely moved toward the desk and leaned one hand lightly on its surface.

"Are you saying I'm required to inform you of every hiring decision now?"

"No," Rachel replied quickly, then frowned, frustrated with herself. "That's not what I'm saying. It's just—" she exhaled. "I was blindsided, Darren."

Darren questioned her with a brow raise gesture.

She hesitated when next she spoke, but her frustration led her to continue anyway. "This is different. You know it is. I was involved in this whole thing from the beginning, remember?"

She took a step closer, her voice growing more pointed. "If you were going to bring in the girl who used to work for the Triad — the same group that kidnapped us — the least you could've done was give me a heads-up."

Darren finally did the sigh.

"What did you think I was going to do with her when I brought her along?" he asked quietly.

Rachel opened her mouth, then paused. Her brows knit. For a moment, her conviction wavered.

"I didn't think it'd be this," she said, though the words came out with less fire. "I don't know. I didn't expect you to make her part of the company. Not so soon. Not without even telling me."

Darren stepped around the desk, closing the distance between them. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't put on his CEO tone. He just placed a hand gently on her shoulder — a grounding touch meant not to overpower, but to quiet.

"Rachel," he said, steady and calm, "this is my company. In the end, I decide what happens here. And I decide who hears it before it happens."

Her lips parted, but he continued.

"I made a decision on my own," he said. "Like a CEO is supposed to. I didn't want a discussion. I didn't want hesitation. I didn't want input that would make me second-guess what I already knew I was going to do."

She stared at him, silent.

"It doesn't mean I don't value your input," he added, his voice softening. "And it doesn't mean I wanted to blindside you. It just means I didn't want to weigh this down with more voices than necessary."

Rachel nodded slowly, her arms still folded.

There was silence for a while as she licked her lips. "I understand. I just... overreacted a bit," she admitted, but the weight behind her voice hadn't lifted. "You're the CEO. I'm just the secretary. I have a place and I should remain there. I get it."

Darren's frown deepened. "That's not what I meant, Rach."

"I know," she said, but the smile she gave was thin and short-lived. She turned toward the door. "It's okay."

"Rachel—" he started, reaching a hand forward slightly.

But she was already moving. She didn't slam the door — of course she didn't. Rachel was too composed for that. But she didn't linger either.

She stepped out quietly, her heels soft against the floor, her shadow fading through the crack in the doorway as it eased shut behind her.

Darren stood still for a moment, hand still partially raised in the air.

Then he let it fall.

He returned to the desk slowly, leaning back against it and pressing his palms into the edge.

His voice was little more than a murmur.

"What have I done now?"