Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin! Chapter 243: Blackmail

"Damn it, Darren."

Brooklyn bit her teeth and looked away in frustration. Her fingers were tightened around her wineglass and she had her legs crossed, tight against each other.

With a short exhale, she set the glass down, the soft clink echoing in the quiet, and ran a hand through her blonde hair, her breath uneven. "You always see right through , don't you?" she said with a low whisper of a voice.

Darren didn't feel like smiling this ti. Whatever it was that was bothering her appeared to be very serious, especially since she went through minutes trying to pretend like it wasn't. So he kept his gaze steady and patient.

"Only when you're hiding sothing, Brooklyn. Talk to . What's got you spooked?"

"I'm not spooked," she said defensively, then she looked away, staring at his fireplace for whatever reason. "I'm just... worried."

"Worried about what?"

"Sothing happened with the Bitcoin story," she said finally, slowly bringing her eyes to his. "First of all, yes, okay. I did miss you a little bit, and I also did co to poke at you, see if you'd slip about the 1.2 million coins. But… apart from that, I was hoping you'd help ... with sothing."

Darren's jaw tightened. "Is it that bad that you can't tell what it is?" he asked, his voice low, controlled, but with an edge that demanded clarity.

Brooklyn steadied her eyes with his, fully facing him now as she clasped her hands on her lap.

"I'm being blackmailed." Her voice was a strained whisper, the words sharp in the tense air between them.

Darren raised a brow. "Blackmailed? You?"

Brooklyn frowned. "You act so surprised. What? I can't be blackmailed."

"I an sure, of course you can." Darren shrugged. "I'm more surprised that you're surprised. Isn't blackmailing sothing you should be used to in an occupation like yours?"

Brooklyn's fists clenched anxiously. "I an yeah, of course. This is more about who."

Darren's face imdiately darkened with intensity.

"I have my suspicions, but they were anonymous," she continued. "They're using a darknet dead drop and have fabricated dirt on . Emails, docunts… all expertly forged, but convincing enough to destroy my reputation."

"Odd. Why would they want to do that?"

Brooklyn hesitated. "They're tying to Silk Road trades, Darren. During my deep dive to find details of the missing Bitcoin, I got myself into so trouble — a lot of trouble. I had to deep my hands into so dangerous waters to get information.«

Darren frowned and let out a curse. "You have to stop doing that, Brooklyn. You're not freaking Lois Lane."

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. But I can not be linked to darknet drug deals? If this leaks… my career's obliterated. My life's over." Her knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of her skirt.

Darren's pulse hamred against his ribs, a frantic counterpoint to the icy calm he forced onto his face.

His mind instantly scrolled through potential threats: the lingering shadow of the Lotus Triad, the calculating Adam Scotland, or so new predator drawn by the scent of his Bitcoin dealings.

"You said you have suspicions of who's behind it?" he asked, his voice low and hard as forged steel. He leaned forward, the movent deliberate, his entire posture radiating a protective intensity. "Did they tell you what the price for their silence is?"

Brooklyn t his gaze, raw terror shimring just beneath a thin veneer of defiance. "They want you," she said, the words cracking like thin ice.

Darren almost recoiled.

"They're demanding dirt on your Bitcoin operations— wallet keys, transaction logs, anything concrete to pin you down. They're convinced you've got Nakamura's missing 1.2 million coins, Darren. And they're using as the lever to pry it out of you."

A shudder ran through her.

And perhaps through Darren as well.

He leaned back slowly, faint, his face painted with deep thoughts. It made sense now why Brooklyn was so sure that Darren had the coins.

Then he let out a short laugh; it was a deliberate deflection, a lifeline of normalcy tossed her way. "Flattering they think I'm sitting on that kind of fortune," he said, his tone deceptively light, almost teasing. "But listen, Brooklyn. You are not their pawn. What happens if you refuse? What's the explicit threat?"

She shivered again, wrapping her arms around herself as if suddenly cold. Her hands clenched into tight fists, nails biting into her palms.

"They didn't spell out 'kill'," she breathed, the sound barely audible above the ambient hum of the city outside. "But the implication was thick as blood. The ssage read: 'Deliver Steele, or your na's ash.' And they sent proof…" Her voice hitched. "All the forged evidence they had made, with pictures of leaving my studio last night."

Her eyes glistened like she was gonna cry, which was just so frustrating to see for Darren. He loved the fierceness about Brooklyn, and he wasn't going to watch it stripped away to pure vulnerability.

His hand twitched on the tabletop, a barely suppressed impulse to reach across the distance and anchor her. He locked it down, the restraint turning his knuckles pale.

"Alright, listen Brooklyn." He waited until her frightened eyes t his. "You are not alone in this. They want to paralyze you with fear, but they picked the wrong target. You're tougher than they could ever guess, and I've got your back. Fully."

A shaky, humorless laugh escaped Brooklyn. She t his gaze again, and for a fleeting second, a spark of their old, combative connection flickered through the fear. "You and your damn hero complex, Steele," she managed, her tone a fragile mix of teasing and profound gratitude.

"I don't think I have a hero complex."

Brooklyn looked at him knowingly. "We're so not going to argue this right now. We just have to be clear that this isn't so basent-dwelling darknet troll. These people… they're professionals. Ghosts. I don't even have a na, a face… nothing."

Darren's mind flashed instantly to cold, gray eyes (Viktor Dragomir), a sneer etched by scars, and the enigmatic danger of Ileana – the Triad's fingerprints felt all over this. "We'll find out," he stated, his voice resonating with absolute conviction, the natural Command Aura he wielded giving the words tangible weight.

"But I need total transparency. Right now. Everything – the dead drop location, the exact ssages, any tiny detail you might have dismissed. No secrets, Brooklyn. Not here. Not with . Deal?"

She drew a deep, steadying breath, then nodded. So of the terrible tension bled from her shoulders. "Deal," she affird, her voice gaining strength.

"I saved the drop data— it's heavily encrypted, routed through multiple darknet relays, zero sender ID. It's on my phone, but… I couldn't crack it. I'm a journalist, Steele, not a cryptographer." A trace of frustrated helplessness colored her admission.

Darren's lips twitched into a near-smile, a playful glint montarily lighting his eyes. "Lucky for you, I happen to know a few people who eat encryption for breakfast. We take this to the Complex. Kara's got tools that can peel that encryption apart like an onion. And…" he paused, considering, "…there's soone else who might recognize the style, the signature of the setup."

His tone softened, becoming almost gentle. "You okay to move? Or do you need another glass of Pétrus to steady the nerves before we hunt?"

Brooklyn rolled her eyes, but a weak, genuine smile finally broke through the fear, reigniting a flicker of their familiar, flirty dynamic.

"Tempting offer, but I'll pass. Let's just nail these bastards to the wall before they decide to send another… souvenir." She pushed herself up, smoothing her blazer with hands that still trembled slightly.

When Darren stood up, she captured him in a quick tight hug that surprised him.

"Thanks for helping. I was so scared that I would have had to betray you for a mont there," she said.

Darren smirked. "I'm just surprised," he replied. "Didn't take you for a hugger."

She imdiately broke it up, and hit him softly with her elbow. "You always make regret being friendly with you, Duckling Face."