Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 181: Silent Coup

Once he got in, he stepped into the elevator, not waiting to exchange greetings with those interested in meeting him.

The lift took him to the 34th floor of Golden Hay Headquarters, where an eerie stillness hung in the air.

It was morning, but the tranquil hush of a peaceful dawn was completely absent, rather, a disquieting silence that crawled beneath the skin reigned inside, heavy with the weight of secrets being shuffled behind closed doors.

They were all still reeling from Darren Steele 's threats a few days ago, and the takeover had been put on a temporary hold.

Gillian Henderson entered the room, standing at the heart of this storm. A quiet storm, rather.

He saw the board members, assistants, legal counsels, and financial auditors sitting in silence, those that moved did it like specters, their steps purposeful yet restrained, hiding their urgency and anxiety.

With a tsk, Gillian stepped into the fray, the cuffs of his slate-gray suit catching the light as he adjusted them with a silent egotistical swagger.

As he strode through the central hall, the sea of executives parted subtly before him, their movements not born of fear but of something far more potent— recognition. Those sitting followed his movements with eyes locked directly at him.

They knew who he was now, not merely a name on a corporate ledger, but a force that had reshaped the game before most had even realized it was being played.

The Hendersons, formally the Hickmans, the Holters, the Homarians.

The family had lived for generations and generations of wealth. All of it now rested on Gillian Henderson's shoulders, and with their stocks failing, unless Gillian claimed Golden Hay's casinos, the great Henderson lineage of wealth would perish.

Gillian glanced at the inner boardroom.

Inside of it, the scent of espresso filled the air, while everyone murmured of strategy and business.

Marla Gentry stood at the tall window, her silhouette sharp against the cityscape beyond, a demitasse cup poised at her lips as two legal staffers whispered urgently in her ear.

Across the long, polished table, a young legal advisor, Keith Lang hunched over a computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he reviewed contract adjustments.

He frowned with unease. "I don't like how fast this is moving," he said, his voice swallowed by the room's tension. "The assets aren't even cold, Marla. We're carving up Albert's empire before the ink's dry."

Marla's eyes flicked to him, one brow arching with a mix of amusement and impatience. "Speed is how we win, Lang. That casino wing was Albert's golden goose, and if we waste time debating ethics, Darren Steele will have it in his pocket before we can even file Form 9B. You know how this works."

Her tone was clipped, pragmatic, a reminder that sentiment had no place in the high-stakes chess they were playing.

Keith pursed his lips. "I don't know why you all assume that this Darren guy wants the casinos or anything at all."

"It doesn't matter what he wants. He's made a threat to us. We have to move in kind before he has a clue of what's coming."

The soft click of the door broke the exchange. Keith and Marla turned around and the entire room fell still as Gillian entered.

He had his long hair tied to a ponytail, his right hand wielding a briefcase while the left was placed on his tie.

He moved quietly, having already mapped the terrain and made his plans. His gaze swept the room before settling on Marla. "Marla, I assume you've seen the restructured cascade order?" he asked her. weight to fill the silence.

Marla released her tight expression. "We did. It's... bold."

"Bold?" he asked her. "It should be clean... and lawful."

"Yes," she agreed. "It is both of those things."

Gillian held her gaze for a while, making sure she understood the gravity of this situation.

"The moment the final vote goes through, my father will have full oversight of the casino properties. Every piece needs to and will fall into place."

Keith glanced up from his tablet, skepticism etched into his features. "Assuming Grant doesn't block it. He's got enough pull to stall this for weeks."

Gillian's lips curved into a subtle, almost imperceptible smile, and he placed a slim folder on the table with a deliberate slowness that drew every eye. "He won't," he said simply.

The legal team, led by Vector Callahan leaned in.

Vector opened the folder, his brows lifting as he scanned the contents. "Legal grievances? Conflict of interest allegations?" He was surprised, evident in the sound of his voice, but still tempered by caution.

"They've been filed anonymously," Gillian explained. "Just enough to trigger an internal audit. Grant won't be allowed to vote until it clears, and that could take weeks— long after the decision is made."

Keith let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. "You've thought of everything."

"I don't leave openings," Gillian replied, matter-of-fact. "And I don't play games I can't win."

"And what about this Darren Steele?"

Gillian turned to Marla with a cold expression on his face. "Up until now, he's been used to winning and getting what he wants."

He cracked his neck. "I promise it will be different this time."

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Hours later, the shareholder chamber buzzed with the low hum of anticipation, its vast space filled with the rustle of tailored suits and the murmur of voices as a rare full quorum gathered.

The air was charged, every glance and whispered aside heavy with the knowledge that this was no ordinary meeting.

An executive at the head of the room cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the din as he read the formal vote proposal. "Motion 77C: To transfer all primary oversight of the Golden Hay casino division to Donald Henderson, acting through Henderson Franchise Holdings, contingent upon full divestment of Grant Hayes due to unresolved legal review."

Gillian sat near the center of the room, his posture relaxed yet unyielding, his hands folded calmly in his lap, his eyes fixed forward.

He was a still point in the storm, untouched by the undercurrents of doubt or dissent swirling around him.

The call for votes came, and hands began to rise— one, then two, then a cascade of them, three, seven, ten, twelve, each a silent testament to the path Gillian had paved. He did not raise his hand; he had no need to. The final vote was cast, and the executive's voice rang out, steady and final. "Motion carried."

A swell of murmurs rippled through the chamber, a mix of relief, unease, and reluctant awe. The throne of Golden Hay's casino empire had shifted hands, and the transfer was as clean as Gillian had promised.

In the hallway outside, Gillian stood alone at a private window, the city sprawling beneath him like a map of conquered territory.

A quiet breeze slipped through the glass panels, cool against his skin, as he gazed out over the lower plaza. His assistant, Ella James approached. "Sir, it's done. The legal transfer process begins tomorrow morning."

"Cancel it," Gillian said coldly.

That was unexpected.

Ella blinked, caught off guard by the order. "Sir?"

"Delay the final filings by seventy-two hours," he clarified, his gaze never leaving the horizon.

"But… we have the votes—"

"I know." His tone was cold and clever. "Let them believe it hasn't finalized yet."

"Why?" she pressed, confusion creeping into her voice.

Gillian's eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of something predatory flickering within them. "Because a storm is coming. And I'd rather seal the vault once the rats finish running."

Far from the gleaming heights of the 34th floor, in the dim solitude of Grant Hayes's office, an unsettling stillness reigned.

The lights were off, the door slightly ajar, as if abandoned in haste.

The desk was a frozen tableau of chaos —legal appeals, funding allocations, stakeholder notices scattered like leaves, all unattended. A coffee cup sat half full, its contents long gone cold.

This was Grant Hayes's office, but there was no sign of him, no trace of the teenage boy who held the reins of Golden Hay's empire.

The throne was no longer up for debate. It had already changed hands, and the new king stood silent, his plans unfolding like a shadow across the board.

Undeniably, Gillian Henderson was a threat.