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

Even with the slight sense of security his presence provided, Darren could still see it in her eyes; the fear, the unease clinging to her like a shadow.

Rachel was a type of woman who lived her life on composure, Darren knew that much about her. He saw this in real time too.

She was desperately trying to compose herself, to pretend like the encounter at the state office hadn't rattled her.

Unlike usual, she wasn't being very good at it today.

The look on her face right now. Darren had seen that look before. The kind that came from knowing your life had suddenly shifted into dangerous territory.

He moved toward the kitchen, saying nothing at first after the hey as he took out a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. "You're still terrified," he said, not as an accusation, just a fact.

Rachel exhaled, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm trying not to be."

He poured a glass, then paused. She needs something softer, he thought. He grabbed another glass, filling it with a smoother brandy before walking over and offering it to her. "Drink."

She didn't hesitate before taking it, besides, it was Darren who had given it to her.

Her fingers brushed his as she accepted the glass. As the warmth seeped into her skin, they shared a gaze.

Then, Rachel took a small sip, the burn sharp but comforting.

Darren's eyes steady when he spoke to her. "You don't have to be afraid, Rachel."

She gave a weak laugh, shaking her head. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's about to be hunted down by Gareth Smithers."

His face said nothing.

Rachel looked at him, then quickly shook her head, remorseful. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that. I'm just... You're right. I'm letting the fear get to me."

Darren went to refill his glass. "Remember what I said?"

She followed him with her eyes. "As long as you're here, Gareth will never harm me."

He poured the glass. "I know exactly what moves he's going to make," he said confidently. "Gareth Smithers is a very predictable man. I've been with him long enough to know that."

Rachel's brows creased at that statement, confused. "You've only been with him for a few months."

Darren sipped his whiskey. Well, if only she knew.

He told her to take a seat on the couch, she did and he walked and sat towards her, facilitating a nervous smile.

He sipped his whiskey for a moment in silence, and as he did, Rachel glanced to her side to study him.

It was confusing to her how much younger he was and yet she had barely noticed it at all because of how he acted.

The steadiness in his voice, the sheer certainty, the way he acted... the money he had.

And how did he even get all this money? Was he ever going to tell her? She knew he was a finance guru, but... this was a lot to accomplish in one month.

Because of all these, she knew that the things he was saying, he wasn't just saying it to comfort her. He meant it.

For the first time since the encounter, her body relaxed slightly.

She took another sip, then sighed, staring at the amber liquid in her glass. "My family would have liked you," she said suddenly.

Darren raised a brow. "Your family?"

She nodded. "The Teschmachers. I don't know if you know of them."

Darren frowned in thought. 'Is Rachel from a powerful family? And why is she bringing this up like she's suggesting marriage.'

Not noticing the nervous expression on Darren's face, Rachel continued. "We were… well, my father's side was known for weapons manufacturing. Generations of it. Our name was tied to some of the best arms deals across Europe."

Darren's expression remained neutral, but he listened closely.

"We were wealthy, powerful… but my mother hated it. She was from a quieter family, one that wanted nothing to do with war or weapons. She fell in love with my father anyway. But she told him, from the start, that if he ever put his business before his family, she would leave."

Rachel's voice softened, a bitter edge creeping in. "And he did. Again and again."

Darren said nothing, letting her speak.

"He was obsessed with legacy, with keeping the Teschmacher name dominant. He thought it would make up for everything else. But my mother… she couldn't take it. One day, she left, just like she said she would. Took my younger brother with her."

Darren frowned slightly. "And you?"

Rachel smiled, but it was sad. "I stayed. I thought maybe if I just tried harder, if I made myself indispensable to him, put my efforts into the family's business, he would cherish me just as he cherished it."

"You know..." her voice halted. "...I was trying to borrow some of the attention he gave... the business... by joining him in it. It was silly and pathetic, I know."

Darren's jaw clenched. He didn't think it was either of those at all. He'd seen this before — children who clung desperately to absent parents, hoping, praying, that their sacrifice could be enough to change them.

It usually never was.

Rachel stared ahead, her voice growing distant. "But of course, it didn't work. He barely noticed me. Never spoke to me except in the confines of the headquarters. I was just another piece of his empire. When I got older, I tried to carve my own path. I went into finance, business... anything that would prove I was worth more than just my last name."

She let out a breath. "But then… it all fell apart. Just like this, I was involved in a scandal. One I had no idea of."

Darren's eyes narrowed.

"Someone inside the company was making illegal deals. Terrorists, gangs, cults, enemy nations, you name it. The authorities cracked down hard, and our name was dragged through the mud. Everything we built… gone, just like that."

Darren watched her closely, his grip on his glass tightening.

"My father couldn't handle it. He took what was left of his fortune and disappeared. I never saw him again."

Silence settled between them.

Rachel exhaled slowly. "Gareth knew my father, and well, he offered me the job the moment he saw me. At first I thought he was the nicest man in the world for doing that. But then... I found out what his true motives were."

Her face fell. "I don't think I've ever really felt secure. Never felt like I had solid ground beneath my feet." Her fingers traced the rim of her glass. "At least not since leaving my family."

She hesitated, tightening her lips before continuing.

"Except…"

She bit her lip now, finally looked up at him, her cheeks coloring slightly.

"…Except when I'm with you."

A quiet, vulnerable confession.

Darren's chest tightened as she slowly leaned in, resting her head against his shoulder. The weight of her, the trust in that small action, sent something stirring deep inside him.

"When I'm with you," she murmured, "I feel the most safe. Like I know nothing is going to happen to me. Because you won't allow it. And you don't even have to say it most of the time."

"I already know."

Darren swallowed, feeling his throat tightening. "Is that why you're so keen on helping me start my company?"

She stared at the flower vase on his table, then quietly answered, "Yes. Nothing is going to happen to you either. Because I won't allow it."

His breath trapped slightly as she continued, voice steady despite the faint tremor in it.

"I want to make sure that everything is done to perfection. That you'll be satisfied."

Darren felt his heartbeat pick up. Was this really the Silent Witch? He'd never expected her to be so expressive in her emotions. So poetic and sentimental.

He looked down at her, the way her lashes fluttered slightly, the faint warmth of her breath against his collarbone.

Slowly, he lifted a hand, placing it over her shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort. Of understanding.

The room was quiet. Rachel softly said, "I don't want to go back to the hotel tonight."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a confession.

She pulled back slightly to look up at him, her eyes searching. "Can I stay here?"

Darren didn't answer right away. He just looked at her, his mind weighing the moment, the significance of what she was asking.

"…Yes," he simply replied.

Rachel's eyes flickered with relief, trust, admiration, and desire. All the words used to replace and cloak that very powerful L word.

She continued to look up at him.

And he looked down at her.

Before either of them could think, before hesitation could creep in, she stretched her neck, reaching for his face with her lips.

And Darren leaned in.

Their lips met.

The kiss was soft at first, a slow press of warmth and need. Then deeper, as if sealing something between them, something unspoken yet understood.

The taste of brandy on her lips, the way her fingers gripped his shirt lightly. Darren felt himself sinking into it, into her.

The objects in the living room braced themselves to witness another romantic encounter.