Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin! Chapter 63: Instigator Brooklyn

"Mrs. yers, please! Just a mont of your ti, that's all I'm asking for."

Brooklyn Baker stood outside a modest, neatly kept apartnt, her knuckles rapping firmly against the wooden door.

It was the fourth ti she had knocked and yet there was no answer. Heaving a breath, she adjusted her blazer and checked the ti.

Still no response. She knocked again, a little harder this ti.

Finally, the door creaked open.

A woman stood there, barely peeking out. Sandy yers. She looked fairly young for her age of thirty-three. Shoulder-length auburn hair, deep brown eyes.

She appeared exhausted. Not physically, but there was a weariness in her expression that Brooklyn instantly recognized— soone who had seen too much and was tired of pretending otherwise.

Nevertheless, Brooklyn also couldn't deny that she was a stunning woman. Even with her hair all ssy she looked beautiful.

Sandy blinked at her, expression cautious. "Can I help you?"

Brooklyn kept her voice neutral. "Sandy yers? My na is Brooklyn Baker. I'm a journalist with Business Everyday. I'd like to ask you a few questions. Just a simple interview."

Sandy's fingers tightened slightly around the doorfra. Her voice was wary. "About what?"

"Gareth Smithers."

A flicker of sothing crossed Sandy's face. It wasn't surprise.

She'd been expecting this to catch up with her eventually. Not speaking, she stood there for a while, staring at Brooklyn.

Brooklyn waited. She'd seen this reaction before: people deciding if they should open the door or slam it shut.

Finally, Sandy exhaled. "Fine. Co in."

Brooklyn stepped inside, scanning the apartnt quickly. It was tidy but lived-in.

A small living room with an old but comfortable-looking couch. A wooden coffee table stacked with financial reports and a laptop. No decorations, no unnecessary clutter. Just the essentials.

It felt very feminine with the colors and the arrangent of appliances.

A place of function and a woman's comfort.

"Sit wherever," Sandy said, closing the door. She didn't sound enthusiastic, but she didn't sound like she regretted letting Brooklyn in either.

Brooklyn chose the armchair across from the couch, pulling out her recorder. "Just so you know, I'm recording this conversation."

Sandy shrugged as she sat down. "Doesn't matter."

Brooklyn got straight to it. "Are you aware of the nurous allegations against Gareth Smithers?"

Sandy's lips pressed into a thin line.

Brooklyn continued. "Accusations of plagiarism, of locking employees into unfair contracts, of stealing their work and discarding them. And…" she paused, watching Sandy's reaction, "two allegations of sexual assault from forr female employees."

Sandy exhaled through her nose. "Yeah," she said. "I'm aware."

Brooklyn's eyes narrowed. "How?"

Sandy t her gaze. "Because I was the one who started them."

Bullseye!

Brooklyn's pulse quickened, but outwardly, she remained composed. 'My instincts had been right. I knew there was sothing about Sandy yers that warranted questioning. And now, I've hit a jackpot.'

She leaned forward slightly. "You were his financial secretary, Miss yers. Your voice carries power here. Tell everything."

Sandy let out a slow breath, running a hand through her hair. "I worked for Gareth for six years. Secretary of finance... as you know."

She sighed. "What you don't know is what it's like to watch brilliant young people co in, full of ideas, creativity, and passion, only to have it all drained from them?"

Her voice quickly sounded bitter. "I saw it happen over and over. They were chewed up and spit out. Their work stolen. Their nas erased. And if they dared to leave? Contracts bound them. They weren't allowed to criticize the company. So weren't even allowed to work in their field for months after quitting."

Brooklyn didn't react. She just listened and wrote.

Sandy sighed. "At so point, I got…numb. Watching it made depressed. What could I do? I was locked into the sa contract. I had no power. No leverage."

"And then, one day, he hired this Business and Finance graduate for an intern position. Darren Steele."

Brooklyn's brows perked. "Darren Steele?"

Sandy nodded. "Yeah. Are you familiar with him?"

Brooklyn didn't confirm or deny. "He's a... person of interest."

A small, tired smile flickered on Sandy's lips. "Figures."

She leaned back. "Darren was no different at first. He was excited to be there. But, he stood out from every other one because he was the smartest guy I've ever t."

"He knew numbers... I an, like crazy. He knew money, investnts, graphs —everything. He was brilliant. And he cared. He wanted to do sothing with all that knowledge, make real changes. I was afraid he'd get crushed like the others."

Unknown to her, he actually did get crushed. At least in another tiline.

Brooklyn stayed silent.

"But then he did sothing no one else had ever done." Sandy's expression turned almost amused. "He found a way out. He sohow altered the contract and freed himself. Just like that. No lawsuits. No battles. He just…walked away."

"The mont he left, the cracks started showing. Others realized they could do it too. I left first. Then the others followed. And once I was free, I sent a letter to The Whispering Press with everything. Every na, every case of theft, every young person Gareth had used and thrown away." She paused. "I guess they handed it over to you guys at Business Everyday."

Brooklyn absorbed the information, her fingers danced on the paper till she rose her head again.

"This contract alteration… How did Darren do it?" she asked.

Sandy blinked, taken aback. "Out of everything I just told you, that's what you're asking?"

Brooklyn remained unfazed.

Sandy scoffed, shaking her head. "Do you even care? About any of this?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "It doesn't matter if I care or not. My job is to report the news as it is."

Sandy's jaw tightened. "That's all this is to you?"

The reporter sighed, rubbing her temple. "Look. Miss yers."

"Sandy." Sandy corrected her.

Brooklyn sighed. "Sandy. I'm a reporter. I don't bring justice to people. I report what's already happening. Now, if the law officials decide to act on it once I bring it to light, then good for you."

Sandy's eyes darkened. "Good for ? You heartless woman. Get out. We're done here."

Brooklyn didn't get up. Instead, once Sandy got close enough, she stopped her with a question.

"You admire him, don't you?"

Sandy instantly stiffened.

Brooklyn smirked. "Darren Steele. The way you talk about him. You clearly admire him. Dare I say you like him more than you let on."

Sandy's expression hardened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Brooklyn pouted. "How did he get so rich so fast?"

"What?"

Brooklyn's eyes narrowed. "Oh… So you don't know." She tilted her head, watching Sandy's reaction carefully. "Darren Steele has a million-dollar mansion now. A luxury car worth even more. He never told you? Doesn't he hold you in the sa regard that you hold him?"

Feeling stung by that, Sandy chuckled after, though it wasn't out of amusent. "You're good," she said, shaking her head.

"As a reporter. As an instigator. Poking , reading my reactions, pushing just enough to get more. But let ask you sothing." She leaned in smugly. "Are you this curious because you want to uncover the truth, or because you want to know more about Darren?"

Brooklyn frowned.

Sandy smirked. "I think you're the one who likes him more than you let on."

Brooklyn's face remained unreadable for a second too long. Then, abruptly, she stood up.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

She turned for the door but stopped. Then, she took a deep breath, turned back with a big, formal smile on her face.

"Thanks for your ti, Miss yers."

And with that, she left.

Sandy stood there, staring at the door long after it closed. Only one thought was in her mind:

'Darren is rich?'