Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 156: War Over Asset!

"Well then," Brittle said with a grin. "You both want my property. Prove to me why I should sell to either of you."

The room seemed to shrink around Amelia. Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to breathe steady.

Ryan's lips twitched into a smirk. "Ladies first," he said mockingly.

Amelia squared her shoulders. "Steele Investments offers immediate liquidity," she began crisply. "We will complete escrow within seventy-two hours, no legal entanglements, no drawn-out negotiations. We guarantee full confidentiality, protecting you from speculative backlash that might drive your remaining assets into attention."

Brittle nodded thoughtfully, tapping his desk.

Ryan pushed off the wall. His voice, smooth as silk, slid into the room. "Not bad, Amelia, not bad. But unfortunately for you, the youth of your company is going to be your problem."

He looked at Brittle. "You see, Mr. Brittle, Moon Wealth Management, on behalf of our client, Sinclair Group, offers a slightly longer escrow, yes — two weeks — but we bring enhanced legitimacy. Our client's brand is associated with stability. Selling to them can raise the reputation value of your remaining holdings in Nevarro. Makes it easier for you to offload your other properties at a better price."

"That is enticing."

Amelia didn't miss a beat. "Stability's only useful if the seller cares about prestige. Unless I've horribly failed in my assessment of Mr. Brittle here, what he wants is cash. And he wants it now. We offer certainty today, not a vague benefit that might or might not materialize."

"Your assessment was spot on, Miss Forrest."

Ryan chuckled softly, as if amused by a child's cleverness. "Amy, Amy. You underestimate the value of association in property markets. When developers see Sinclair Group's touch on a portfolio, their perception shifts — overnight. Mr. Brittle could sell his remaining lots for twenty percent higher next quarter if he plays it smart."

"Hmm. That is true, you know."

Amelia's jaw clenched. She had to keep the pressure up.

"You talk about next quarter, Mr. Anders," she said smoothly. "But the rezoning documents don't guarantee a timeline. It could stall. There's risk in waiting. Mr. Brittle walks away with less if plans delay— and he's left paying rising property taxes in the meantime. Our offer protects him now."

The two locked gazes across the room, the temperature spiking.

Brittle looked positively delighted. He gestured with his pen. "Hah! Hah! I thoroughly enjoyed that! Good arguments. Both of you. Not very often an old man like me has wealthy people fighting for him."

Ryan lifted his chin. "My client is willing to pay $360,000, slightly above current appraised value."

Amelia narrowed her eyes but smiled coolly. "We can match that," she said smoothly, though inside her mind spun furiously, calculating numbers Darren had authorized.

"And," she continued, "we offer a post-sale advisory package. Free. We'll help you discreetly place your other assets into safer vehicles, no extra charge."

Brittle's brows lifted, clearly impressed. "I like that."

Ryan arched an eyebrow. "Advisory services?" he repeated, amusement dripping from his voice. "From a two-month-old firm?"

The jab stung more than Amelia let show.

He leaned forward slightly. "Moon Wealth Management can offer Mr. Brittle direct connections to major industrial developers through our existing network. Not just placement— partnerships. Licensing opportunities."

Amelia hesitated.

Ryan caught it, his dark eyes flashing triumph. "You see, Brittle," he said lazily, "Miss Forrest's offer sounds good, but it's narrow. It's a quick transaction, sure. But the future? It's thin. Short-term cash, yes, but don't you see? There's no leverage at all."

Amelia opened her mouth, froze and in the end, no words came. Her mind whirled.

Brittle turned to her. "Anything to say to that, Miss Forrest?"

Amelia swallowed hard, her cheeks burning.

She had made an error.

Throughout this, she was not only fighting to get this done for Darren and impress him, she had been fighting to prove to Ryan Anders that she can take him down in this deal.

To prove the student was better than the evil mentor.

But her enthusiasm led to her making a mistake that Ryan capitalized on and gave the counter reason that had now left her dumbfounded.

She tried to summon something — anything — but her brain stalled.

She was going to lose. And Darren? He won't be pleased by that.

"...May I be excused for a moment?" she asked, her voice tight but polite.

Brittle waved casually. "Sure. I'll be here."

Without looking at Ryan, Amelia turned and slipped out the door into a smaller adjoining room — a break room, grimy and dim but blessedly empty.

She closed the door behind her, pressing her back against it.

"Idiot," she whispered, pressing the leather portfolio tight against her chest. "You let him corner you."

Her hands trembled slightly. She fought to steady herself, pacing in small circles.

Think, Amelia. Think.

She ran through numbers, projections, thinking about what Darren would do. He would find an angle they missed. He would never have let someone like Ryan Anders outmaneuver him.

She sat at a battered metal table, flipping through her notes, skimming rezoning reports, market forecasts, council minutes.

"There's gotta be something," she muttered, chewing her lower lip.

A slow, almost lazy knock rapped against the door. Before she could answer, it opened.

Ryan Anders stepped inside.

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Amelia shot to her feet, heart pounding anew.

The smug man leaned casually against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, that damn smirk still on his lips.

"No need to look so startled," he drawled. "I'm not here to bite."

Amelia's fists clenched. "Get out."

He chuckled. "Amelia, Amelia..." He took a few slow steps into the room, his presence suffocating. "I'm not even mad you left me, you know. How could I be? Little girls get scared sometimes. They want to spread their wings. It's adorable, really. I know you're going to come back. Because you are coming back, right?"

He stared into her eyes. "Right?"

Amelia's nails dug into the folder. "I'm not coming back, Ryan. I'm with Darren now. Steele Investments. I'm never going back to you."

That wiped the smirk right off his face for a half-second.

He recovered quickly, his smile twisting into something darker. "You want this asset so badly, don't you?" he said, his voice dropping low. "You want to impress your new master?"

Amelia stiffened.

Ryan stalked closer, circling her like a wolf around prey. "I could give it to you," he murmured. "Just a few sweet words to my client. Tell him it was sold already. Easy. Darren would think you were brilliant."

He reached out — slowly, deliberately — and placed a hand on her waist.

"All you have to do," he whispered, leaning close, "is show me you've finally learnt how to say please."

A shudder ran through Amelia's spine, and in response, her hand moved before she thought.

SMACK!

Ryan's head snapped to the side.

The room froze.

Amelia's chest heaved, adrenaline surging, horror and pride battling within her. She couldn't believe she had just slapped him.

Not like she wasn't in her rights to do it.

Ryan's expression shifted from stunned to furious in the blink of an eye. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist hard enough to hurt. His face twisted with rage.

"Ahhhhhhhh!"

"You little—"

The door slammed open with a bang, and Brittle rushed into the room.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

They both snapped their heads at the door.