Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 164: A Face to Cave In

The back of the Golden Hay Hotel was just different compared to its opulent front — cracked asphalt, humming ventilation pipes, and a single flickering lamp above a rusted maintenance shed.

Darren was just a few feet away from the dot and so he glanced ahead. There — in the shadows near the dumpsters — he saw them.

Terry Wilson's hulking form loomed over Alison, who was backed against the wall, fear written across every inch of her body.

Her arms were thrown up defensively as Terry shouted angrily into the air.

"You did this to me!"

"You're the reason Tyler is no longer friends with me! My company! Everything is gone because of you. Where's the money you owe me?! Where is it!"

"Please— Tyler! Please! I don't have the money no—"

"Oh. Don't worry. I've thought of other ways you could pay me."

Terry grabbed her wrist, planted it to the wall and held both with just one hand.

But before he could take off her shirt, he felt an arm lock around his shoulder and ripped him back.

"What the hell—?!" Terry started, but Darren's fist answered first.

A sickening crack echoed through the alley.

Terry stumbled, blinking blood from his nose, but Darren didn't hesitate.

Another blow — to the gut this time — folding him over.

Another to the temple — sending him sprawling onto the grimy pavement.

Alison gasped, covering her mouth in shock, but Darren barely heard her. Maybe he did, but was too angry to think of anything else.

His world had narrowed to one simple goal: eliminate the threat. This was the perfect opportunity.

This bastard had just given him what he had needed all this time.

A fucking face to cave in.

Punch!

Terry groaned, trying to crawl away, but Darren grabbed him by the leg and dragged him back to him.

A punch, smashing Terry's head against the side of a dumpster with a hollow clang. Another. Another. Another. Over and over and over, until Darren's knuckles became bloody.

Whether it was his blood or Terry's, he wasn't sure. He didn't care.

"Darren!" Alison called him, saving him at the last second from killing Terry.

Darren stopped, panting hard. He stared at Terry's face and saw that he had lost some teeth and blood was spilling from his nose and fractured chin.

Terry was wheezing.

Darren exhaled, and got on his feet. He sunk his hand into his pocket, took out the check with Tyler's signature and flung it at Terry's bloody face.

"That's the money Alison owes you. Now if I see you anywhere near her. You'll be suffering from a little bit more than a broken face."

Terry tried to sit up but lumped unconscious, blood trailing from his forehead.

Sighing in finality, Darren turned back to Alison.

She was trembling, tears brimming in her eyes.

He looked at her for a while, then said with a softer but still firm voice, "Come on."

He extended his hand and she didn't hesitate, she grabbed it like a lifeline and followed him quietly back inside, avoiding the main hall and steering her to the private elevator reserved for VIP suites.

By the time they reached the upper floors, Alison had mostly regained her composure but she still clung lightly to Darren's sleeve.

Inside the room, Darren opened the door and gestured her inside.

She began to cry. "I'm sorry, Darren. I didn't want to bring you into it. I was doing what you asked. I was trying to live in the present but he just didn't... he just didn't let me go. And I owed him so I couldn't do anything."

"He was right." She shook her head. "He was right about me being the one who ruined his company. He had every right to be angry."

"Terry stole a million dollars," Darren stated.

Alison paused, looking up at him. "What?"

"He used the money you asked from him as an excuse. He stole a million and gave you 200 thousand. Terry hasn't paid any amount back to Moon Enterprises. He was just using you as a means to pour his anger, reflecting what he'd done to you rather than admitting his guilt."

His gaze got serious. "But that doesn't take blame away from you, Alison. You knew the kind of person Tyler was. You should've known better than to have anything to do with him."

She lowered her head again, guilt-ridden.

"But I'm sorry that happened to you," Darren added. "Now, stay here. Lock the door. Terry might go looking for you at home so don't go back until you're comfortable. I've paid in advance for this room."

Alison nodded silently, her eyes wide, vulnerable. "Thank you... Darren."

He hesitated at the threshold, glancing at her once more, seeing both the fear and gratitude in her eyes.

"You'll be fine," he said and headed down to the ballroom.

At this point, it was quiet. The air was thicker, the booze was heavier and the conversations were more slurred.

Loosening his tie slightly, Darren scanned the room.

'I need a drink,' he thought.

He moved to the bar, slid onto a stool, and tapped twice against the polished wood.

"Whiskey," he said simply.

The bartender nodded and poured.

Darren took the glass, downed a sip, and exhaled slowly, feeling the burn trail down his throat.

It wasn't the exhaustion that bothered him most — it was the constant reminder that no matter how far he rose, the filth from the old world always found ways to crawl back.

Maybe that was just life.

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In the entrance of the ballroom, Grant Hayes's figure appeared, phone placed by his ear.

"Why do you keep dragging this out, Grant?!" the lawyer on the other sign of the phone said. "What is it with you? Get the papers signed already. Gillian has spoken to you, hasn't he? This is the first step to taking Golden Hay to Empire Company level!"

"I told you guys I need time to think. I'll give you an answer by the end of the week this time. I promise," Grant replied.

"Grant! Listen—"

"I promise!"

He cut the call and sighed. Looking around, he noticed that the people here were some years older than him. But he was the one who owned this place and had been invited.

Not knowing who to speak to, he headed to the bar, sat down and asked for some water.

He took a good sip and dropped the glass, thinking hard on what to do.

'I keep thinking about that guy. I don't know why but I just have a feeling that he could help. That I have to talk to him.'

He took another drink.

Then, the person beside him asked for more whiskey. Once the bartender went to get more, the person asked; "Seems like the party hasn't started for you."

Grant turned to his left and his eyes instantly widened in disbelief.

He could do nothing but stare. "It's... It's you."