Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 186: Searchlight

"If we get through to some of the board members, we can break this down from the inside. And Argent Security!"

"Yes sir!" Marilyn, the captain, responded.

"Find Grant Hayes."

"On it, sir!"

Marilyn Standard hadn’t much work to do ever since she had been assigned as the head of security for Steele Investments, but it seemed that was finally changing.

Inside the low-lit Security Briefing Room, she was leaning forward, hands folded, eyes locked on the rotating logs across her monitor as one of her agents worked.

The agent’s fingers moved fast; scanning, filtering, triangulating. As for Marilyn, her eyes were like a hawk’s, sharp and focused.

The team had found a lead and she was carefully following it. If it worked, they would finally get an ’in’ for once since this madness.

The agent jerked his head and pointed at the screen. "I’ve got something."

Marilyn narrowed her eyes.

Badge 48B-17, once belonging to Grant Hayes’s assistant Owen, had been signed out manually. No digital override. No automated logs. That was strange, and so they had investigated.

This was how they’d found the single name attached to the override:

"It says Thorne. Private Detail, Henderson Authorization."

Marilyn straightened on her feet. Her breath misted the glass of her thermos.

"Got you now."

She grabbed her encrypted tablet and rushed from the room, heading straight to meet a particular person.

Darren Steele.

He stood by the window, jacket slung over his arm, tie loosened. His eyes were on the skyline, but his mind was far deeper, studying ways people hide wealth in companies, and the possible kinds that could be hidden.

Then he heard a knock.

"Come in," Darren said, removing the system interface.

Marilyn entered, her presence clipped and professional.

"I found him," she said.

Darren turned slowly.

"Where?"

"He’s still in the HQ."

"What? That’s unexpected."

"I know, sir. He’s on the 28th floor. A restricted archival room flagged inactive in 2008. No security cam feeds, no maintenance logs, no ID scans for entry, except one override."

She passed him the computer.

A name Thorne that was authorized under Henderson.

Darren looked at Marilyn. "He was moved?"

"Three days ago. If we’re lucky, he’s still in the building. If not..."

Darren didn’t wait for the rest.

"We move tonight."

-------------

Hours later, a black Lincoln pulled into a private carport beneath the tower. Marilyn adjusted her contractor uniform— navy shirt, fire-inspector badge clipped to her chest.

Darren appeared beside her, he wore a subtle gray blazer and slacks, ID marked "Legal Consultant – Crescent Advisory, Holdings Review."

"The fake uniforms look real enough," he whispered to Marilyn. "Good job."

"Thank you, sir."

They continued forward.

At the elevator, a young guard looked up. "Evening. You two on the audit list?"

Darren raised a calm brow. "Safety audit. Burst pipe on 29 might’ve compromised storage vaults below. We’re checking backup servers and document archives."

Marilyn showed her forged credentials. "Maintenance refused to go in. There’s mold exposure so this is necessary protocol."

The guard shrugged. "Whatever. Sign in."

They both signed and took the lift.

As the doors shut, Darren muttered under his breath, "You’re still certain about this?"

Marilyn didn’t flinch. "I am. Though I would feel better if you weren’t the one following me, sir. Your safety is also my concern."

Darren narrowed his eyes. "And so is that boy’s."

----------

Soon, the elevator stopped at floor 28.

Darren and Marilyn stepped into the quiet hallway. The place smelled like dust and neglect. Motion sensors clicked as lights flickered to life.

Squinting his eyes, Darren spotted the archival office standing at the far end.

There was a reinforced lock. Thankfully there wasn’t a fingerprint pad, just a passcode slot and backup magnetic key entry.

"Give me a second," Marilyn said, crouching with her toolkit once they arrived.

Darren kept watch, acting normal like they weren’t breaking into a private room.

"Boss, do you ever think," Marilyn asked, still working, "what kind of war this really is?"

Darren was impassive. "A war is always going to have a winner, Marilyn," he replied. "We can’t let it be them. This kind of war buries companies and rebuilds other companies. They don’t do that to bullets. They erase people. Turn CEOs into ghosts."

Click.

The door opened.

"I can’t let that happen to Grant."

Marilyn motioned for him to join her in the archive room.

They tiptoed inside.

It smelled of stale coffee and dry ink. A single desk sat in the middle of the room. No bed. No comfort. Just containment.

On the desk, there was a cracked ceramic mug with the Golden Hay logo, its contents long cold, and there was a folded suit jacket. Grant’s initials were embroidered into the inner lining.

Darren found a notepad. On it read: "Emergency Filing: Motion to Counter Proxy Restructure – Section 12C Violation."

And then a broken gold watch. And the time was stopped at 1:42 AM.

Darren stepped in slowly. "Grant must have done this. He broke the watch to let people know the exact time he was abducted."

Marilyn examined the walls, then the ceiling. "Smart. Unfortunately there are no cameras. No access logs."

She crouched near the desk. "Someone dragged the chair back recently. It scratched the tile."

"There’s no signs of a serious struggle."

Suddenly, they heard footsteps.

It was too late to hide and so, they turned. An older janitor stood in the doorway, mop in hand, confused and tired.

"You two with maintenance?"

Darren stepped forward. "Not quite. We’re looking for a young man who worked this floor. He was moved a few days ago."

The janitor looked uneasy. "You mean the kid in the button-down?"

"Yes."

"I saw him. He was here all week. Didn’t leave. Sat quiet. Took the phone off the hook. Then two days ago, three men came with private security badges. Said he was being moved to ’executive review holding.’"

Darren’s voice darkened. "Did he resist?"

The janitor hesitated. "No. But he looked scared."

Marilyn handed him a stack of cash. "If anyone asks, this didn’t happen."

They left, while the janitor stared at them and then the wad of bills in his hand.

Once they got back to the car, Rachel and Kara had this look on their faces that Darren instantly noticed.

He stared at both of them and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Sir," Rachel spoke first, eyes scared. "Something’s happened."

Kara wheeled over from the back chair. "Trendteller has been flagged by the Commerce and Tech Board. An anonymous report’s gone viral and it says we inflated backend AI modules and withheld true system costs."

"What?" Darren said sharply.

"It’s fake. But the problem is... two of our mid-level buyers pulled out just now. One froze payments. The other is preparing a statement."

Rachel handed him the alert screen.

’BREAKING: Steele’s Trendteller Facing Valuation Review – Insider Leak Suggests ’Shadow Licensing.’ ’

Darren’s blood chilled. "Our product is dipping. Hard."

Rachel looked at him worriedly. "Someone is hitting us because they know our focus is elsewhere."

Darren’s mind suddenly flashed to the system’s warning.

┏System advice: You’re so close! But never forget to keep eyes on your back.┛

While they were searching the dark for a friend, the enemy struck in the light.