Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 120: Company Launch! (3)
He had a corporate smile on his face, almost like everything that had just happened never did.
Sharing a hug with Rachel, he took the microphone and stood on the podium. He was in a black tailored suit, the overhead lights catching his silver tie pin.
"Well..." he turned his head to Rachel as she left. "I would first like to thank my secretary for such excellent flattery. I mean, isn't she just the best hype woman?"
A few cheers, chuckles and applause followed that.
Darren beamed at her, and she — standing with hands folded — beamed back.
Then he turned back to the crowd. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Darren Steele. I am the son of a mechanic, Henry Steele, and a saleswoman, Pamela Steele."
He looked at his mother at the VIP who smiled at him and waved.
"And yes, I'm 21 years old, and yes you all think I'm a bit over my head. Some of you think I'm just lucky. Some of you think I'm a secret crime boss. I mean there must be some explanation as to why I made so much money regardless of my humble beginnings.
"The answer is and will also be numbers. To many of you they're simply tools for calculations, for counting, for extravagance as well." He adjusted his stance. "But they're also logic. They're embedded into every thing, every action. They are probabilities, they are stereotypes and they are statistics. Everything we believe, we believe it because the numbers back it up. Trends, demand, supply, profit, exchange, loss. Everything is numbers."
"Which is why I understand the marketplace, the world of business and finance more than many. I see the numbers all in front of me."
At that moment, as he spoke, the system's interface appeared before him, showing him the current trends in the market. Graphs, diagrams, numbers and calculations of stock, digital assets and real estates.
And of course, no one else could see it.
"I'm not here to flatter myself, Rachel has already done that for me," he placed a hand on his chest.
More laughter.
"But I've always been great with numbers. Now I see them in a manner that no one else can. And this is what I plan to pioneer this company with—"
Noises interrupted him.
It came from the entrance, a sudden burst of chaos slicing through the hum of the Steele Complex atrium. Flashes of light erupted like tiny explosions, the paparazzi's cameras clicking in a frenzy as heads swiveled toward the door.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, curiosity giving way to awe as a stunning woman stepped into the dome.
Flash! Flash!
The camera lights struck and struck. Brooklyn was also amongst the fray, directing her cameraman to join in to take pictures. Even other guests had picked up their phones and started taking pictures too.
Darren knew that there was only one guest that would draw so much attention. He had been waiting and almost thought she wouldn't even make it.
But she actually did.
Cheyenne Lamb Bordeaux had arrived.
Once she stepped inside, it was like frost magic had followed her feet and engulfed the entire space with ice. She sent chills through everyone's spine.
"Holy shit. Is that really her?"
"That's Cheyenne Lamb!"
Alison, Sophie, Tamara and Eddie turned their heads in their seats.
Charles Nelson, quietly enjoying himself with wine, ignored the lady trying to get his attention and looked at the entrance.
Adam Scotland, eyes narrowed with disbelief, also had turned his head.
Cheyenne moved with the grace of a panther, each step deliberate, her tall frame accentuated by a gown that could only be described as a masterpiece.
The dress was a deep, regal purple crafted from shimmering silk that clung to her figure before flowing into a subtle train behind her. The bodice was intricately embroidered with silver thread, catching the ambient light and casting faint glimmers across the room, while the neckline plunged just enough to hint at daring elegance.
The sleeves were sheer, tapering to her wrists, where a single amethyst bracelet gleamed against her fair skin. Her short, bow-cut hair, black with streaks of silver, framed her face like a crown, and those piercing silver eyes scanned the room with the same ice that she had engulfed everyone with.
She barely ever smiled, and even though her red lips were slightly curved. It looked more like a glare than everything.
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All the attention had left Darren now and was all hers.
Darren understood that this was her tactic. She was making a statement, coming in exactly when he was making a speech to make it clear that she was the powerful one — the most influential.
He didn't know why she had to do it. He already understood that she was. Nevertheless, it was like those in power to always remind others that they were above them.
He also didn't mind her getting all the attention. With a face and body like that, she reserved it.
Cheyenne was strikingly beautiful, a vision of power and poise. Even in her late thirties, the age only lended her an air of seasoned allure that younger faces could only aspire to.
Her body was like an hourglass made human, and she moved under the lavender gown like she was hovering not walking.
The crowd parted instinctively as she advanced, hushed whispers and admiring stares filled the fall. Waiters paused mid-step, trays hovering, and even the pianist began to play a soft, climatic music in deference to her arrival.
She carried no purse, no fuss — just an aura of untouchable wealth and control, the richest woman in Calivernia stepping into Darren's world like she owned it.
Then her gaze found him. At the center of the atrium, before all the suits and gowns, Cheyenne turned her head, and her silver eyes locked onto Darren's.
The look she gave him was cold, sharp, and knowing — a blade wrapped in velvet, as if she'd already measured him and found something worth dissecting.
Darren knew it wasn't anger, nothing like that. In fact, this very action Cheyenne made, led him to understand just the type of woman she was.
The type who always wanted to be in control.
He smiled back at her glare.
