Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin! Chapter 155 155: Investing Without Darren

The brisk Nevarro air bit at Alia Forrest's cheeks as she stepped out of the black town car, a leather portfolio clutched tight against her chest.

Her heels clicked with purpose against the cracked sidewalk as she approached the low, sprawling warehouse ahead. From the outside, it looked like nothing special— faded paint, dented shutters, and a single crooked security cara hanging from its rusted bracket.

But Alia knew better.

Inside this humble husk was a hidden future worth hundreds of millions.

Straightening her navy-blue blazer, she whispered under her breath: "You can do this, Alia. You have to."

She wasn't just doing this for the deal— she was doing it for Darren Steele. He trusted her with this. She couldn't let him down.

Nevarro was a state with many investnt opportunities especially when it ca to physical assets.

After the 2008 financial crash, Nevarro was one of the hardest-hit states in Arica, especially cities like Los Vagas and surrounding regions.

Property values collapsed dramatically between 2008 and 2010. Foreclosures skyrocketed.

Alia knew the records. For comrcial real estate, things went really bad, really fast. Warehouses, empty lots, office buildings, and similar structures were being sold off for pennies on the dollar.

There was also a massive undervaluation where many properties were far below their real potential because banks and owners were desperate to liquidate.

So, In 2010, Nevarro was like a goldmine for anyone bold enough to buy physical assets — especially warehouses, lots, and comrcial spaces — because prices were insanely low.

Alia understood this and she thought this was the simple reason Darren wanted her to lock down this investnt.

But she didn't know about the system and Darren's profitable investnt ping. The long-term projections, as early as 2015, and as late as 2020 showed explosive recovery potential.

Darren's Flash Investnt Ping detected this warehouse that was undervalued because no one except insiders — like him — knew about the rezoning initiatives tucked away in city council etings.

That mirrored exactly what real high-level investors do: buying strategic real estate while everyone else was scared.

This was all Alia thought was going on here, but... She knew nothing of the 'other' aspect.

Nevertheless, whether she knew this or not, it was Alia's duty to lock down this deal.

The warehouse owner's office was tucked at the far end of the location, behind a grimy door with a peeled-off "Manager" sticker.

Activating her serious face, she knocked once.

"Co in!" a gruff voice barked.

Alia entered, greeted by the warm stench of old coffee and the faint whiff of oil.

Behind a battered wooden desk sat Mr. Brittle, a barrel-chested man with a salt-and-pepper mustache and weary brown eyes. His suspenders strained over his chest as he gestured for her to sit.

"You the girl from Steele Investnts?"

"Yes, sir. My na is Alia Forrest," she said, offering a crisp handshake. "Secretary of Investnts."

Brittle grunted, his handshake surprisingly firm. "Young. Pretty. Hope you're tougher than you look."

Alia smiled lightly. "I wouldn't have survived this long if I wasn't."

He chuckled, already liking her spirit. "That's what I like to hear! Co on now, make yourself comfortable. It's my favorite thing to talk about so let's go ahead and do it! Let's talk business!"

"Alright."

They sat.

The next hour was a battle of numbers and wit.

Alia laid out the offer: $340,000 purchase, expedited escrow, complete confidentiality. She spoke confidently, her voice smooth yet firm, weaving through zoning codes, city plans, and market projections with a poise that belied her age.

Brittle, however, was no fool.

"Warehouse might be old," he said, tapping his pen against the desk, "but I know what this area's worth. Heard rumblings. Rezoning. Redevelopnt. This place'll be a goldmine in a few years. Why would I sell now?"

Alia t his gaze evenly. She cursed at the back of head, realizing that the potential of this place was not as hidden as Darren thought.

But, she couldn't let that minor setback pull him down. So, she answered, "Because you want certainty today, Mr. Brittle, not promises tomorrow. You're sitting on potential, yes, but also risk. Rezoning initiatives can stall. Budgets can fall apart. Politicians flip. One hiccup, and you're holding a useless property while paying increasing taxes."

He stroked his mustache, eyes narrowing. "Hmm. You make a really good point."

"With us," Alia continued, leaning in slightly, "you walk away with cash in days. No waiting, no gambling. Security now."

Brittle leaned back, studying her. He picked up a baseball from his desk and began tossing it between his hands, a lazy gesture masking intense thought.

"And what about my other buyers?" he asked slyly. "Heard there's so interest."

Alia didn't flinch. "If they haven't given you a written offer yet, they're playing gas. My boss isn't interested in gas, Mr. Brittle. Only results."

He grinned crookedly. "You talk a big ga, Miss Forrest."

"I back it up," she said without missing a beat.

For a few monts, the only sound was the ticking of a dusty clock on the wall.

Finally, Brittle leaned forward. "Alright. I like you. And I like the speed you're offering. But full disclosure: you're really not the only one. I wasn't joking when I said that I heard rumors about the potential of this place."

Alia narrowed her eyes. She had thought it was just a tactic to get her to put in more money. Was he really serious about outside interests?

Brittle continued. "Another investnt company sent soone to inquire earlier this morning. They'll be coming back today."

Alia smiled coolly, even as a sliver of tension coiled inside her. "Competition is healthy. I'm confident Steele Investnts is the right choice."

Mr. Brittle chuckled, his gravelly voice filling the room. "That's the spirit. I'll hear you both out. Best deal wins."

There was a knock at the door.

Leonard smirked. "That must be them now."

The door swung open with a tallic groan, and in stepped a tall, sharply dressed figure whose presence imdiately dominated the room.

Ryan Anders.

His obsidian-black hair was slicked neatly back, and his tailored gray suit clung to him like armor. Those sa predator-like dark eyes glead with a mocking amusent the mont they fell upon Alia.

He offered a dazzling, insincere smile. "Hello, Alia."

Alia's heart dropped straight to her stomach.