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

Chapter 129: Shark Tank



The day stretched into a blur of meetings and dead ends. Their first stop was one of the cramped innovation centers where nothing, literally nothing was innovative at all.

Darren felt disgraced that those people thought they could make business plans out of what they were suggesting. Did they think the business world was that easy?

He literally had to die and resurrect just to have enough money to even start one.

Ugh!

Then they went to a co-working space downtown, where a pair of brothers pitched a mobile game app — a clunky knockoff of Bejeweled with no hook.

Darren passed politely, catching Amelia's subtle headshake.

Next was a cybersecurity duo in a garage, their idea solid but their pitch a mess, asking for $2 million with no prototype.

"I'm not even sleepy yet and you're already selling me a dream? Come back when you've got something besides hot air and a PowerPoint."

By lunch, they were at a diner, Darren sipping black coffee while Amelia scribbled notes, her brow furrowed.

"Anything in that note book of yours screaming 'gem' yet?" he asked, leaning back in the booth.

She sighed, flipping pages. "Not really. Not yet. You shouldn't make fun of me for tracking startups and clients. It's a habit I got from working for Anders."

Darren finished his coffee. "I'm sorry for making you nervous, dear Amy. But come on, tell me what you have there."

Her face turned pink, but she answered anyway. "Clippings, forums, university boards. Most of these are too green or too greedy." She paused, her finger stopping on a dog-eared page. "Wait. There's one I marked a while back. Didn't think much of it then, but…"

Darren leaned forward, sensing a shift. "What's the name?"

"NeuraNest," she said, almost testing the word. "Two grad students from LMU Engineering. They're working on neural network software — early machine learning, but for small businesses, not labs. Think automated inventory or customer predictions, dirt cheap. I saw their demo at a tech fair last month. And then they met Anders to manage them but he passed. It was overall a rough demo, but… I don't know... I think it was promising."

"Neural networks in 2010?" Darren's interest piqued. "That's a niche. Why'd you skip it before?"

Amelia bit her lip. "They're nobodies. No funding, no connections. One's a dropout, the other's got family issues — dad's sick, pulling her away. Anders laughed them out."

"You thought I would too?"

She got flustered. "I don't know. I just... I guess I'm not used to a... boss that's a bit considerate."

Darren's eyes narrowed. "Mhm. If you kept tabs on those two, do you think you can figure out where they are now?"

She checked her notes. "Last I checked, they are still here in Calivernia, I think. Got an address for a basement office near the university. Low rent, probably desperate."

"Let's go," he said, tossing a few bills on the table. "An evil man once told me something about desperate people."

They walked past the door.

"I mean he was bat shit evil."

"But he was also right."

------

The "office" was a dank basement in a crumbling brick building, its stairwell smelling of mildew and cheap takeout.

There was a flickering bulb, and that was the only thing that offered illumination of any kind.

It lit the way as Darren and Amelia descended, her heels clicking uncertainly. At the bottom, a door with a handwritten sign read: 'NeuraNest – Knock First.'

Darren exhaled, glanced at Amelia and then rapped on the door twice. It creaked open, revealing a cluttered space that looked more like a hacker's den than a startup.

Two figures looked up from a tangle of monitors and pizza boxes. The first was a wiry guy, mid-20s, with messy black hair and a faded Green Day shirt. He was certainly Evan Kimura, the dropout, with those eyes that were wary but sharp.

The second was a woman, maybe 23, with braided brown hair and tired circles under her eyes. She was Lila Torres, the one with the sick dad. Her gaze flicked to Amelia, recognition dawning, then hardened at Darren's suit.

"Hey, I know you," Lila said, pointing at Amelia with a low arm.

"Yeah, that's true."

"Evan, you remember her?"

"Of course I remember her." Evan got up from the creaky chair, his gaze directed at Darren's Secretary of Finance. "You're the Anders lady," he said, a bit more confrontational than Darren would have preferred.

"What is this? You're back to tell us we're dreaming too big?" Lila asked with folded arms.

Amelia flushed but held her ground. "I never thought that you two were dreaming too big, and I'm not with Ryan Anders anymore."

"Doesn't matter now, does it? You already refused our offer. So we've given it to someone new." Evan said. Lila glanced at him to question that, but he looked at Darren, frowning. "Who's this?"

Amelia took a step forward. "This is Darren Steele, CEO of Steele Investments. He's my employer now."

Darren remained standing, hands in pockets. "Settle down, kids. And let's have a talk."

"Kids!" Lila took offence to that. "You don't look any older than either of us."

"You're right. I don't. Which should tell you a lot about how you're acting." He sighed, stepping forward. "There's no need to lie, either. No one is investing in this dump you two have here, regardless of whatever ideas you have."

Evan narrowed his eyes. "Hey man, are you here to insult us? What's your angle?"

Darren looked at him, unfazed, his voice calm but carrying that quiet command he'd honed. "No angle. I'm simply here because Amelia says you've got something worth seeing. Neural nets for small businesses — inventory, predictions, cheap. That true?"

Lila hesitated, then nodded, brushing a braid behind her ear. "Yeah. It's true. What's it to you?"

Darren raised a brow at her. "She told you my company is called Steele Investments. Do you think I'm here to collect the electric bill or something?"

She shut up.

Darren looked at Evan. "I'll make you a deal, but we're not going to reach there if you hold on to the lie that you've already procured an investor. I'm not here to match an offer or give a higher one, so I'm going to leave if that's the case. And you'll never see me again."

Evan quickly spoke. "No no no! I was only joking. We haven't gotten any investors yet. Things are really tough on us right now, I just got greedy and said that. I'm sorry, man."

"Sir." Darren corrected him.

"S-Sir," Evan stuttered. "We're building software that learns and adapts to a store's data, optimizes stock, flags trends. Like AI, but for mom-and-pop shops, not corporations. It costs less than a part-time clerk."

Darren looked at Amelia and then back at Evan.

"Show me," he demanded.


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