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

"You're serious," Sandy muttered, gazing into his eyes, almost through it in fact like she could feel him, feel how really meant it. "It's not a question," she shook her head. "I'm just trying to say... you... you actually really mean it."

Darren nodded. "Of course I do."

Sandy's face broke into a sad smile. "You'd really do that for me?"

Darren squeezed her palm softly, assuring her with that simple gentle touch. "You haven't forgotten that you were the only one who was nice to me in Smithers Group, have you? You're the one who started all of this, Sandy. When I reach the peak, I want your happiness to be my motivation, because you made me happy when I was at my roots. My sad, rotten, hopeless roots."

He leaned in, his silver eyes catching her brown ones. "I want to make you happy when I'm at the top. So yes. Yes, I would do that for you."

Sandy felt her heart begin to thump in her chest, thrashing with strong emotions. If it wasn't for the table separating them, she would have reached forward and kissed Darren so hard on his lips, caring little what his response would have been.

She would have kissed a man she was ten years older than. Her lack of care for that fact showed how far gone she was when it came to her affection for Darren.

A tear tried to drop from her eyes, she cleaned it with a finger. "Thank you, Darren," she said.

Darren smiled warmly. "You know," he said, returning to a more casual air as he let go of her palm. Sandy desperately didn't want him to. "Being here kind of reminds me of when we both worked under Gareth."

Sandy let out a breath, part laugh, part disbelief as the emotions clearly faded from her face. "How does this exquisite place remind you of that office room above the laundromat? The AC broke like a million times and constantly blasted heat in summer then blast cold in winter? There were fun times but everything else was awful."

Darren sat back, relaxing. "Do you know what happened to everyone? Like the ones in our circle."

Sandy thought. "Well I heard that Eddie now works for the Zurichs in one of their subsidiaries, and Lily's father called in a favor from Archibald Mooney and now she works as one of his many assistants."

Darren's reaction was empty which surprised Sandy because she usually expected him to react in some way when Lily's name was mentioned.

"Damn Gareth Smithers," Darren muttered jokingly.

"I know right. He always has a hand to pull. Perks of having friends in high places I guess."

Darren sipped his wine. "I think he still owes you back pay."

"He does," she said, shaking her head. "But seeing what you did to his legacy, I'd call us even."

Darren smirked. "Hey, it wasn't my doing. I didn't destroy him. He did that to himself. I just… fast-tracked it."

Sandy smiled, but it was the kind of smile that held memories. "I still remember that day. The morning those stories hit the news. I can only imagine how ghost-white his face must have gotten."

She thought for a while. "I also didn't expect Brooklyn Baker of all people to go to such great lengths to get the story out there to the public. It was her character defining moment for me. Turns out all journalists aren't that bad."

Darren pouted. "Gareth never went to jail. I only wonder what he's up to these days."

She raised her glass in mock salute. "Who cares? Let's just have this toast as I thank you for stabbing our former boss and making me your head of finance instead."

They both laughed softly, the tension melting into familiarity. Their meals hadn't even arrived, but it already felt like something intimate had been served.

As their laughter started to dissolve, the scent of baked rosemary and seared butter trailed in.

A young waiter stepped in carrying their order on a silver tray. She wore the Castle Cottage uniform: black slacks and a fitted cream blouse, sleeves rolled up and an apron tied neatly around her slim waist. However, hers had a bit more high fashion, different than the rest like she was the leader.

Her shiny blonde hair was tied into a messy bun, a few strands falling loosely around her youthful face. She was eighteen, striking, and from the look on her face, it seemed she was painfully aware of who she was serving.

Her eyes immediately locked with Darren's.

Darren froze. First, he wasn't exactly surprised. He had expected to see Penelope here, just not in this circumstance. She wasn't usually serving. And even though he and Sandy weren't doing anything at all, yet, the scene was problematic.

She had just arrived when both of them were grinning and laughing with each other. Anyone would think they were a couple.

Darren and Penelope hadn't spoken in days. Maybe longer. But that didn't change the fact that her gaze tightened the moment she saw who sat across from him. Maybe even worse.

Sandy turned slightly to smile at the girl, unaware of the emotional shift crackling in the space. But... she noticed the girl looked familiar.

"Good evening," Penelope said politely, her voice steady though her eyes were doing their very best not to look at Darren and make this awkward.

Darren sat upright. "Penny—"

"Your lamb rack, medium rare," she said innocently, placing it before him without looking away. "And the roast duck with caramelized leek reduction for the lady."

Sandy nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, dear."

Penelope nodded faintly but didn't respond. She turned to leave, but for a moment, just a second too long, she lingered.

Her eyes flicked once more to Darren. There was something unsaid in them. Hurt? Confusion? Betrayal? Whatever it was, it hit him like a stone in the gut.

She disappeared through the curtain before he could say anything.

Darren watched the drape fall shut. The hall suddenly felt confined. His breath tightened in his chest. This was... complicated.

He'd always expected that an issue like this would raise its ugly head. But God, not with Penelope. He cared too much for her. Hurting her would ruin.

Sandy was watching him now. Her eyes narrowed a little, perceptive as ever. "That's how I know her, isn't it?"

Darren looked at her, raising his brows nervously.

"She's the girl that always comes to see you at the office," Sandy said, her mind recalling. "Always comes with a lunchbox so I guess she brings you food."

"Her name's Penelope," Darren said eventually. "Daughter of Arnold Castle, the man that owns this place. She's…" he hesitated. "She's important to me."

Sandy didn't push. But the way she placed her napkin gently on her lap said enough. She understood. A woman like her, of course she would never be enough for a young, handsome and competent man like Darren.

He would always want the younger, prettier girls.

And that Penelope, gosh was she pretty.

Sandy had never seen a face and a body that made her feel so incomplete as a woman.

Darren tried to go back to his food. But every bite tasted like sand. "I'm... sorry," he muttered.

He reached for his glass. His hand paused.

Something inside him twisted. A guilt that had no name, and an ache that wasn't quite love but wasn't far from it.

He couldn't shake her eyes from his mind.

Penelope. She'd seen him with another woman. And while they weren't official — no promises made, no titles exchanged — he knew she didn't need to say anything. Her face had said it all.

He couldn't stop thinking about that face. How sad it was. It tugged his heart so badly that he eventually had to give in.

"I'll be right back," he said suddenly, rising from the table.

Sandy looked up. "Darren?"

He paused, hand brushing against the velvet drape. The decision hung in the air like a coin on its final spin.

Go after her?

Or sit down.