Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 163: College Reunion (5)

The Golden Hay Hotel buzzed louder now. Music thrummed beneath the marble floors, and clusters of old classmates huddled together, laughing too hard, drinking too much.

The lights dimmed slightly to a rich amber hue, reflecting off the chandeliers like captured stars.

Darren and Charles were both sitting by one of the bar tables, in their quiet but exciting conversations and sipping their glasses of dark whiskey.

At intervals, when they had nothing to say, Darren's gaze would dart over to the crowd, turning over the faces he had seen tonight — old friends, old rivals — all pretending to have moved on.

He would catch some glance at his direction then look away. Seeing glimpses of their faces, Darren would be struck by memories of college, the laughter, the mocking, and how he used to pretend that it didn't get to him.

He didn't win the nickname 'Death Wish Darren' for no reason. Darren just had no atom of an idea when to shut up.

He had been a loser, sure. But he was a talkative loser.

No matter how many times he got beaten up, insulted or ridiculed, Darren still had something to say.

This reunion, these faces, they were all bringing those memories back.

Footsteps hesitated nearby.

Darren lifted his gaze calmly and found another familiar face approaching.

Eddie.

Eddie Turner was here.

Darren had almost forgotten about his once-best friend.

It wasn't Darren's fault. As Eddie himself knew, he was the one who drew them apart. The one who had slowly but surely turned his back on Darren when public opinion demanded it.

Just like he did in Smithers' Group when they started working together. Once Darren started being ridiculed, Eddie pretended not to know him.

Last time the two had spoken was when Eddie pointed him to the Red Fang to borrow money, and the last time they saw was at the company launch.

Now Eddie looked like a shadow of that confident boy — shoulders slightly hunched, an uncertain smile on his face.

"Darren," Eddie said, voice low, almost sheepish.

Darren raised a brow but said nothing, at first. "Are you sure it's wise to be seen around me?" he finally said.

Eddie flattened. "Darren. Don't be like that."

"Be like what?"

Eddie, realizing he was already fucking up in his first try, raised his hands up and apologized.

"You're right. You're right. You have every right to feel the way you do." He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around as if embarrassed. "I just wanted to say… I'm sorry, man. For back then. In college. After college. In Gareth's company. I should've had your back, but... I didn't. I was a coward."

The words hung heavy in the air.

Darren studied him for a moment, letting him stew under the weight of it. Then he gave a scoff. "Whatever, man."

Eddie looked relieved even though Darren's tone wasn't forgiving — just factual. Considering how he had treated him, 'Whatever, man' was the best kind of response he could get here.

Hopefully, there would be no anger, no long lectures. And hopefully, Darren wasn't here to rehash the past.

Eddie cleared his throat. "Uh... By the way, there's someone who wants to meet you."

Darren followed Eddie's glance toward a quieter corner of the room, where three familiar faces approached.

Darren recognized them instantly.

To the left was Jaxon Daniels — smug, hair slicked back, and wearing an iron gray suit, and to the right was Amir Singh — wearing a brown suit and grinning as he did like he knew secrets no one else did.

But in their center was Olivia Sinclair.

Darren froze. He had certainly forgotten about her, the third member of Lily and Alison's trio.

And he almost hadn't recognized her either. Back in college, Olivia had dark curly hair. Now, it was still curly, but she had dyed it to green.

It matched the sharp black dress that draped down her slim model body with emerald lines. Her eyes were just as green and her lips glossed with a beautiful red.

It appeared like she was staring at him more than he was at her, and there was a nervous but hopeful smile that lit up every feature of her face.

She stepped forward first. "Hi Darren," she said warmly.

"Olivia," Darren nodded back, his tone polite. "You're in the city."

She chuckled nervously. "You knew I was away?"

Darren had to rephrase. "Well, I knew you weren't in the city. You've been too detached from anything Brookfield up until this. And I keep tabs on your family. Formally, of course."

"Oh," she nodded once, understanding him. "Gotta keep an eye on the competition, I guess."

"Mhm." He looked at Amir and then at Jaxon. "What's this about?"

"You sly man!" Jaxon exclaimed. "I knew I recognized you in the casino!"

Olivia turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"He played Corporate Conquest with Charles, Grant Hayes, Gillian Henderson and I. And he won, took home our cash! He pretended not to know me. You remember, right Charles?"

Charles got up, finished his whiskey and turned to leave. "Give me a call, Darren, when you're done. Let's set up that meeting," he spoke in Darren's ear then left, only offering a nod to Olivia.

Amir frowned, looking back. "What's his problem?"

"Beats me."

Darren looked at Olivia. "Can we get straight to the point with this?"

"Oh, yes. We... wanted to talk to you about something." Her voice faltered slightly as she gestured to the two men beside her.

"I'm starting a new startup. It's an Incubator. But it will first start as a digital content & IP company."

Darren lifted an intrigued brow. "Incubator?"

"Yeah!" Amir chimed in, flashing his practiced salesman grin. "Think of investment companies but with a broader scope. Imagine them as a nurturing environment that provides young businesses with the resources, guidance, and network they need to survive and thrive during their vulnerable initial phases."

"I know what an incubator is."

"Oh."

Olivia added quickly, her voice soft but earnest. "I'm spearheading it. It's my idea. Jaxon and Amir are helping with logistics. But they're going to be co-founders with the amount of money they're putting in. We really think it could go big."

Darren listened.

So this is what happened. This is what led to Olive Run Capital having a clash in leadership. This is what led to Olivia's downfall.

Darren remembered too well what happened in the previous timeline.

Olivia — ambitious, bright-hearted, and desperate to escape her parents' leashes — had been betrayed by these two snakes.

They had pushed her out once the company gained traction, taken all the glory and profits, leaving her devastated.

Darren's jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his face composed.

"You want me to invest," he said plainly.

Olivia nodded. "If you're interested. I mean, no pressure. You will have the benefits, of course."

"I'm offering 20% equity," she continued. "In ForgeRun. In exchange for a $250,000 founding investment. You get a permanent board seat. Full voting power. Strategic input on the first five companies we incubate."

Darren creased his brow. That was a strong offer. Too strong, maybe. How desperate was she really?

He shook his head.

"No."

Her expression tightened. "No?"

He looked at her. Really looked.

Everything she has said so far, she meant it. She looked fairly different than she did in high school, but she still had that same light in her — hope, fire.

She was still the quiet girl who spoke when it was only something important that needed to be said.

He didn't think she was trying to use him.

But the company would collapse around her because of the snakes at her side.

Darren gave a sigh. "I appreciate you coming to me. Really. But I'm just not the right fit for this."

Olivia's face faltered. "Oh... I see."

Jaxon and Amir looked disappointed too, though in their case it was clearly for selfish reasons.

"What do you mean, Steele? I thought this was your thing! Investing in startups like us?!"

"Come on, man!"

Darren ignored them and finished his whiskey. "Good luck with it, though," he said to Olivia, giving her a courteous nod and turning away.

Confused and disappointed, Olivia watched him stride away.

Darren, now heading towards the quieter parts of the party, hearing the waves of laughter and drunken shouts rolling over the crowd.

It subsided the farther he got away from it, but then Darren realized something. Felt it rather, tugging at his instincts.

There was a face he hadn't seen for a while.

Darren shot his face left then right. He scanned the crowd, walked around while ignoring the people trying to get his attention.

Still, he couldn't find her.

Where was Alison?

He slipped his phone out of his pocket and tried her number.

One ring. Two rings. Straight to voicemail. Third ring. And still voicemail.

That wasn't like her. If it was him calling she would answer straight away. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

Something was off.

Determinedly, Darren moved through the ballroom, sharp eyes cutting through the crowd.

He found Tyler Mooney leaning against a wall near the side corridor, basking in the attention of a few sycophants.

Not hesitating, Darren strode up to him, calm and cold. "Tyler."

Tyler sneered lazily. "Oh, the bigshot himself. What do you want now?"

"Where's your friend?

Tyler frowned. "Who the fuck are you talking about?"

Darren's eyes darkened and he leaned down slightly, letting Tyler know he wasn't here to mess around. "Where's Terry Wilson?"

"Mind your mouth, Steele! That bastard ain't my friend. And I sent him packing, how the hell am I supposed to know where he is."

Darren's heart thudded once, hard. He glanced at the door Terry had sped out of and turned on his heel without another word, pulling up the system's interface in his mind.

"Yeah you go look for him, Steele! You're both fucking losers and birds of the same feathers flock together!"

Darren ignored him. "System, trace Alison Parker's phone."

A small holographic map projected in his vision and a flashing icon appeared on it, showing Darren where the phone was.

North wing.

She was not inside the hotel. Rather, she was in an alley behind it.

Darren stood calm and still, glaring at the icon.

"Fuck."

He moved fast, weaving through the crowd, the warm golden lights of the ballroom giving way to the colder, harsher fluorescent glow of the service corridors.

Then — the heavy steel door to the outside slammed against the wall as he pushed through.

The night air hit him in the face.

The map showed the dot — fifty feet ahead.

In a grim alleyway half-swallowed by shadows.

Darren's hands curled into fists as he approached, his hurried feet silent against the cracked pavement.