Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 57: Lady and Gentleman

To be honest, Darren wasn't sure what he expected when he opened the door, but in over a thousand trials, he would have never guessed that it was the Business Everyday reporter, Brooklyn Baker.

She stood on his doorstep, wearing a blue shirt with black plain office trousers.

Her face was shot straight at his. She was staring at him, and with a serious but uncertain gaze like she was trying to make out his features.

Her sharp brown eyes darted between his face and a photograph in her hand. She checked again, and again.

"Darren Steele?" she asked, like she wasn't entirely sure.

Darren raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She squinted at the photo again, then back at him.

"Yes, it is you," she confirmed, sizing him up with a subtle tilt of her head. "Taller than I expected."

Darren leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You're the reporter chick."

The words itself was supposed to come with a mannerism of surprise. But Darren had just said it like he was reading a sentence.

Brooklyn's lips twitched at his dismissive tone. Straightening her posture, she responded formally, "Brooklyn Baker. I'm the head reporter for Business Everyday."

Darren didn't shift an inch as he studied her.

She looked prettier in real life compared to the TV. Her blonde hair framed the sharp, inquisitive features of her face, and her brown eyes held a glint of relentless curiosity, scanning him as if she were already writing his story in her head.

"Good for you," he replied.

Her confidence didn't waver. "May I come in?"

"No," Darren said flatly. "You can stay just where you are, first of all."

That threw her off, if only for a moment. She blinked, her confidence momentarily stuttering at his firm refusal.

Darren's eyes flicked past her, noting the white press van parked across his front yard, the Business Everyday logo plastered on the side. His jaw tightened.

"You know, I just saw you on the news," he said. "Does that mean you're not being broadcast live?"

Brooklyn glanced over her shoulder at the van and then back at him, unconcerned. "Things like that are done all the time," she said smoothly. "I had a story to follow."

'A story.'

Darren's mind ran a hundred miles an hour. Was she already onto him? How? So fast?

Did she know he was FuglyDuckling?

He exhaled through his nose and deflected, tilting his head. "So you just admitted that news companies record broadcasts, then act like it's live. That's something serious to be telling a random person like me."

Brooklyn smirked. "My broadcast team knows how to improvise to suit me." She folded her arms, exuding the smug arrogance of someone at the peak of their career. "I'm chasing a very big story, and somehow, in it, your name popped up."

Darren narrowed his eyes. 'My name.'

'It's sounding more and more like she's figured it out. But I have to be careful. Don't say anything until she tells you exactly what it is.'

He kept his expression unaccessible. "I don't talk to the press," he replied. "And how did you find me, anyway?"

Brooklyn lifted her chin and shrugged proudly. "I'm good at my job."

"That's not a good enough answer." Darren narrowed his eyes. "How do you expect me to be content with that? What do you think this is? A movie?"

He moved to close his door. "Now get out of my house, stalker."

"Eh?!" Brooklyn's confidence cracked. "Did you just call me a stalker?"

Darren began closing the door.

"No— no way! I… I am not a stalker." She stammered, her usual arrogance slipping into something defensive and insecure. "I'm just good at investigating and tracking."

Darren gave her a bland stare. "So are stalkers."

Brooklyn's eyes twitched. "Ahh. Ngh—!" She clenched her fists. "Stop calling me a stalker. And stop closing your door in my face." She put a hand against it, holding it open. "Just give me a moment of your time."

"No," Darren refused once more. "Leave me alone. I'm not interested in your antics."

The door began to shut.

"It's about your former boss!" Brooklyn lifted her voice sharply. "Gareth Smithers."

Darren's fingers stilled on the doorframe.

Checkmate. He'd just gotten her to spill out the reason she was here.

Slowly, he pulled the door open again.

Brooklyn straightened her blouse, regaining her composure. "He's involved in a major scandal that's become the talk of the business world. During my investigation, everyone I've spoken to said the same thing; it started with you. You were the first to successfully break out of his company unharmed early last month."

Appearing to be calm, Darren looked down at her and asked. "So what do you want?"

She sighed hopefully. "I just want an interview from the guy who defied Gareth Smithers."

A beat of silence passed.

Darren studied her for a while longer, then stepped aside and walked into the living room, leaving the door open.

Brooklyn smirked in victory and gestured to her cameraman by the van, telling him to come on.

When she stepped inside, she saw Darren pouring himself a glass of wine. "Camera guy stays outside," he said.

Brooklyn turned back and made a slicing-neck gesture toward her crew. Abort. He scurried back to the van.

Now inside, she took a slow look around the place, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood. The décor, the polished furniture, the loud elegance — it wasn't what she expected.

"This is a nice place," she admitted.

"Thank you," Darren said, sinking into his couch. "You can take a seat."

She sat on the opposite couch, still taking in the surroundings.

"Maybe too nice of a place," she mused, her tone shifting. "Considering what I was told about you."

They shared a gaze lock.

Darren said nothing.

Brooklyn's lips perked up. "Do you own it?"

He took his time answering. "My mother does." He lifted his glass and took a slow sip of wine.

Smirking to herself, she studied him. Then, with a soft exhale, she said, "You didn't even ask if I wanted a drink."

Darren's gaze was indifferent. "You didn't think you'd be parched when you drove all the way here?"

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She pouted. "Not very gentlemanly of you."

Darren's facial expression didn't change. "You weasel into a private street, demand your way into my home, and speak to me with condescension." He leaned back, swirling the wine in his glass. "You're not being very lady-like yourself."

Brooklyn smirked, though there was a flicker of irritation beneath it.

Darren looked away from her nonchalantly.

"Why should I be a gentleman to a woman who isn't a lady?"