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

They followed him back into the registrar hall for no other reason than suspicious curiosity.

Through the marble counters that stretched across the room, filing clerks sat behind brass-rimmed windows, each encased in old bulletproof glass that had likely seen better years.

For a moment, they lost him, but when they turned toward the exit, both women slowed instinctively. He was still here.

Adam Scotland stood near the central filing clerk's window, casually leaning on the partition with the kind of effortless entitlement only money and unearned charm could manufacture.

Unfortunately for them, his suit was too elegant for them to insult. It was grey and perfectly fitted, the fabric cutting sharp lines around his tall frame.

"What do you want to do?" Sandy asked Amelia.

The secretary of investments smacked her lips, thinking. "Well, he could be here for many reasons."

"But it doesn't matter right?"

Amelia agreed with a nod. "Yes it doesn't. He sent men with guns after Darren."

Now both in agreement, they walked to where Adam was and Sandy merely tapped him on the shoulder with her finger.

Adam turned around.

Taking a good look at them, he narrowed his eyes. "I know you women. You... you work for Darren Steele, don't you."

Amelia scoffed. "Of course you would, stalker."

Adam chuckled. "Stalker? He-he... Wha— what are you talking about now?"

"Mr. Scotland," Sandy said, trying to bring this into a professional tone, "we weren't expecting to see you here."

"Wasn't expecting to be noticed," he replied smoothly, brushing an imaginary speck from his lapel. "But then again, you ladies are sharp. That's what Darren surrounds himself with, isn't it? Precision."

"We could say the same about you," Amelia interjected. "Considering how discreet you're trying to be."

Adam laughed, low and easy, as though the tension rolling off them didn't graze him. "I was not trying to be discreet at all. What do you ladies take me for? Some cartoon villain?"

"A phony's more like it."

Adam frowned playfully. "Well that's not very nice. I was just filing some paperwork. I don't know why that bothers either of you. Do I need your permission to come to the CETRL?"

Sandy's expression didn't shift. "Paperwork for what exactly."

"Pfft," he said, shrugging, "I don't know either of you an explanation, so if you could just get out of my way so I can get on with my business."

"You never struck me as the stern type," Amelia said.

That caused Adam to pause, feeling as though she had just called him a joke. A clown. A loser. He lowered his voice just enough to make the air colder.

"Don't I? Funny. I'm sure Darren Steele once thought the same thing. Until I overtook his wallet holdings last week. I suppose I just have better reach these days."

Sandy didn't blink. "Only if you're counting coins and not minds."

That earned her a grin — genuine and impressed, even if laced with malice.

"I like you," Adam said to her. "You're not like the others. You know what game we're all playing. That's why I expect we'll be seeing more of each other."

Adam didn't say anything. He just scoffed once — a fleeting amusement, before turning around and heading to the door.

Amelia tugged Sandy lightly on the arm.

"Let's ask them," she said quietly.

Sandy paused. "Ask who?"

"The registrar."

"About what?"

"Just follow my lead, Sandy."

Sandy thinned her lips and scurried after Amelia. "Usually I'm the one meant to be in the lead, but okay!"

They went straight to the registrar who they had seen handle Adam Scotland. It was a stout, middle-aged man with thinning grey hair and a CERTL badge tucked into the breast pocket of his ill-fitted vest sitting behind the central window.

He didn't look up as she approached, simply adjusted his glasses and continued scanning whatever form sat before him.

"Excuse me," she said, tone as professional as ever. "I saw the gentleman before us— Mr. Adam Scotland. Would you be able to confirm what type of registration he filed today?"

The clerk looked up, his eyes slow to adjust, and blinked once.

"I'm afraid I can't disclose that," he said. "Client confidentiality policy covers all trade filings, asset declarations, and name reservations unless subpoenaed."

"I'm not asking for documents. Just the classification. Was it a standard filing? A business entity? Licensing?"

He hesitated for half a second longer than he should have. Then his mouth shaped into something corporate and well-practiced.

"I can only say the filing was within the parameters of permitted economic activity. Beyond that, I'm not authorized to discuss client entries. If your organization is concerned, I'd suggest filing a monitoring request with the oversight committee."

Amelia thanked him politely, turned, and walked back to where Sandy stood waiting. The moment she reached her, she exhaled.

"He's not here to launch something. He's here to watch," she said.

Sandy arched a brow. "How do you figure?"

"He didn't register anything new. He came to access filed documentation. That's why the clerk hesitated— he didn't expect anyone to notice. My guess is he's using a shell group to scrape registry data and cross-reference our filings."

"Trying to map our structure," Sandy murmured. "Or duplicate it. Or beat it to market."

Amelia nodded, eyes tightening. "That man is a real life copycat."

---

They returned to the Steele Complex in silence, carried by the hum of the black sedan and their growing conviction.

When they arrived, Darren was in his office, his computer in front of him having his full attention.

Sandy briefed him without flourish.

Amelia filled in the blanks.

When they finished, Darren sar quietly for a long while, one hand resting on the edge of the wooden desk, the other absently navigating a soft-glow menu that brought up the CERTL registry logs.

"I don't care about what Adam Scotland is doing," Darren said at last. "I really don't"

"He was logging access to our filings," Amelia added. "But it looks like he's using a shell identity or paid proxy."

Darren still appeared impassive. "Let him play shadow king. The more he mirrors, the more predictable he becomes."

"So you're not going to retaliate?" Amelia asked.

"He's going to run himself into a wall sooner or later, Amelia. That much is obvious. I don't have to do anything."

The two women glanced at each other before returning to Darren.

He nodded his head at them. "But thank you for telling me."

They smiled. "You're welcome."

Then they turned to leave. After Amelia left, Darren asked Sandy to wait behind.

"We've been too distant," he said softly, watching her reaction. "You and I."

Sandy blinked.

"It's not intentional, I promise," he continued. "But I notice it now. And I'm sorry; I owe you more than that." He paused. "If you have time this week… set a dinner. Just us. I'd like to catch up."

"If that's fine with you," he added.

Sandy was silent for a second too long — just enough to betray surprise — then offered a small smile.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I'll fix something."

Darren nodded once, gently, before returning his computer and the screen which was before him.

The title showed: Scotland Holdings - a full list of companies and assets owned by Adam Scotland.

He had been reading that even before the women entered…