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

The spotlights ignited with a brilliant flare.

A balmy evening breeze drifted through Los Alverez, carrying whispers of excitement as limousines, polished sedans, and sleek black SUVs glided into the circular driveway of the newly unveiled Pantheon Club.

Compared to what it had been when Darren bought it, this building was magnificent!

It rose majestically, having an exterior of pure black and deep gold, gleaming like liquid ink beneath the city's glow. At its peak, a radiant golden emblem shone brightly: a stylized owl with wings spread wide, the proud symbol of the Pantheon.

It gave the club an aura of taste and essence.

For passersby who did not know what was happening, today was the official launch of the Pantheon Club.

Cameras erupted in flashes along the plush crimson carpet unfurled before the club's entrance.

A sturdy press barricade held back journalists shouting names, capturing images, and streaming live to entertainment networks and digital blogs.

The event was closed to the public— for now.

Tonight, the Pantheon Club was being christened not merely as a venue but as a landmark, a haven for Calivernia's cultural elite, and a sanctuary for the visionaries of the creative world.

Darren had spent over 25 million dollars in making sure this club lived to its purpose. And his money had been used to its full extent.

Inside the building, soaring arched ceilings evoked the grandeur of old cathedrals, yet they still had this modern flair— bathed in deep crimson lighting and accented by shimmering golden beams.

Chandeliers hung like constellations, casting a soft, starry glow. The two-tiered layout featured a sweeping panoramic bar on the ground floor and an exclusive lounge balcony above.

Plush velvet booths, adorned with bespoke gold trim, hugged the walls. Every table was equipped with a discreet call-button for attentive waitstaff, and every space, even the elegant powder rooms, offered personalized music controls.

In the press room adjacent to the main hall, energy crackled. Brooklyn Baker stood poised at the forefront, commanding attention in a tailored deep-green suit, her curls swept elegantly to one side, her heels high, her presence sharp as a blade.

Behind her, a banner displayed the logos of Steele Investments and the freshly minted Pantheon crest. Her PR team, dressed in crisp black uniforms, moved around as smoothly as they could, distributing glossy press kits in gold-foil folders and coordinating media sound bites.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Brooklyn began, her voice rich and assured as she leaned into the microphone. The room fell silent. Cameras swiveled toward her. Smartphones lifted in unison.

"You all know why we're gathered here tonight. And it is not just because we're opening this building. We're launching a vision!"

Cheers erupted.

"The Pantheon Club is more than a nightlife destination. It's going to be a refuge for brilliance, a sanctuary for artists, entrepreneurs, actors, and innovators —those who forge culture and entertain us on screens. This is the place for you to gather and enjoy yourselves. Share ideas, drink, laugh, celebrate the beauty of entertainment!"

Behind her, a massive screen blazed to life, revealing glimpses of the club's opulent interior: soundproof VIP suites crafted for high-stakes deals and creative exchanges; a hidden cellar bar stocked exclusively with rare, vintage spirits; and a concierge-style security system guaranteeing privacy — no leaks, no unauthorized photos, absolute discretion.

"Each week, a fresh theme will transform the experience. Each member is hand-selected. There will be no paparazzi. No press unless we extend the invitation. The Pantheon is luxury rooted in seclusion."

People watched the display with intrigue and awe.

"Our mission?" Brooklyn continued. "To offer not just a club, but a retreat. For every A-lister weary of intrusive lenses, every producer seeking a confidential meeting, every trailblazer craving serenity amid prestige."

The room buzzed with camera clicks, bursts of light, and hushed murmurs of admiration. Brooklyn exchanged a subtle nod with her team, and the grand sliding doors parted with a whisper.

"Welcome all of you to The Pantheon Club!"

Brooklyn guided the celebrity guests into the heart of the Pantheon, where the atmosphere thrummed with anticipation.

"Incredible," murmured a prominent producer from a leading streaming platform, his eyes wide. "This place feels like the Ritz crossed with Studio 54 in its prime."

Miranda and Amelia, who heard that, smiled at each other. "Hopefully Darren gives us special treatment and allows us to come here."

Miranda giggled. "Did you see the wine they sold here? One was over three hundred thousand dollars."

Upstairs, in a private booth offering a clear view of the bustling main floor, Darren reclined in an impeccably tailored black suit, a glass of sparkling water in hand, silently overseeing the scene.

He was looking straight at Rachel who was working with people, ordering them about to ensure everything went fine.

Darren frowned. She was still mad at him. Again.

He moved his gaze to Brooklyn, who immediately glanced upward once, as if drawn by instinct, and offered a faint nod of acknowledgment

Then music burst into the air, the familiar popular song from a trending popstar.

A velvet curtain along the side stage swept open. Spotlights danced.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Brooklyn declared with a theatrical flourish, "please welcome to the Pantheon stage: global pop icon, star of the Platinum Whisper Tour— Valencia Rose!"

Blonde, radiant, and dazzling in a shimmering gold minidress, Valencia strode forward, her wide smile rivaling the camera flashes.

Though young, she carried herself with a seasoned charm, her playful confidence capable of captivating an entire room with a single glance.

"Thank you so, so much," she said with a giggle into the microphone, her tone shifting as her gaze flicked upward toward Darren's booth, her eyes sparkling with recognition. "To Mr. Steele, wherever you may be— thank you for this invitation. This place is the destination. Full stop."

She waved to the crowd, blew a kiss, and then she started to sing, dancing on the stage as her fans who watched sang after her.

Because of her presence, the launch got over millions of votes all over multiple social platforms.

It was a booming event. The music swelled. Drinks circulated freely. Journalists roamed, snapping photos of every lavish detail—the exclusive whisky wall, the retractable glass ceiling revealing the starry sky, the discreet celebrity-only elevator tucked away in a private alcove.

Within minutes, the online buzz ignited, with #PantheonLA climbing the ranks on three major social platforms. CryptoTracker unsurprisingly being the highest one.

Brooklyn rejoined Amelia and Miranda, her grin triumphant. "No one's going to mistake us for a crypto startup now."

Miranda handed her a sleek folder. "Here's the influencer strategy. Scheduled posts start tomorrow. We've secured thirty verified accounts to amplify this place into viral territory."

Brooklyn nodded approvingly. "Excellent. Keep the buzz loud, but the details discreet."

From his elevated perch, Darren observed the unfolding triumph with the same understated smirk he wore when plans aligned perfectly.

The launch was more of a calculated move than anything. Let the world marvel at the glamour. Let them remain blind to the machinations beneath.

When his eyes moved again, he saw that Rachel was looking up at him.

Their gazes locked. Seconds passed. Then Darren, rather than she, was the one to walk away.