Regression To Invest And Become A Billionaire

Chapter 4: Blast From the Future

The name on the old buzzing phone hit Nathan Cole☠︎ 𓃵 like a fist straight to his ribs. It was so sharp, so sudden, that he almost dropped the device right there on the desk. His heart pounded, each thud echoing in his ears like a drum. He could barely hear the shrill ringtone over it. The screen kept flashing her name. Sierra Voss.

It felt unreal. His throat tightened as if invisible hands were squeezing it. That name carried too much weight. Too many years of anger and betrayal tangled around it like barbed wire. He couldn’t even breathe properly. His pulse spiked, and yet his whole body felt frozen in place, like his muscles had turned into blocks of cold stone.

The phone buzzed and buzzed, relentless, drilling into his head like it was mocking him. He stared at the glowing screen, but his hand wouldn’t move. He just sat there, paralyzed, his chest rising and falling too fast.

He could see it again. That image burned into his mind no matter how many years had passed. Sierra’s soft laugh. The shine in her eyes when she used to look at him. And then the sharp blade of betrayal—her wrapped around Brandon Mercer, the man Nathan used to call a friend. The picture had never left him. Not when he grew older. Not when he lost everything. Not even in death.

Now here she was. Her name lit up like some cruel joke.

His breath came out shaky. He considered letting it ring out. Letting it buzz until the screen went black again. His thumb twitched like it wanted to smash the phone against the wall, to silence the ghost it had awakened.

And then—silence. The buzzing cut off. Nathan exhaled sharply, a hollow sound escaping his lips. Relief washed over him, but only for a second.

Buzz!

It rang again. The same name. Sierra Voss.

Nathan closed his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Might as well get it over with.” His tone was bitter, like chewing on metal.

He swallowed hard, forcing the lump in his throat down. This time he didn’t move slowly. He didn’t reach with a trembling hand. Instead, he snatched the phone quickly, almost violently, as if the hesitation itself irritated him. He hated the power her name still had over him.

He took a deep breath that scraped against his lungs, then slid his thumb across the scratched buttons.

“Hello?” His voice came out sharper than he meant. Clipped, cold.

“Hey, you,” Sierra’s voice chimed through the tiny speaker, sweet and bright, carrying that same flirtatious lilt he remembered from years ago. Nathan stiffened instantly. The sound hit him hard. He recognized it too well. That voice had once been like music to him. It carried warmth, laughter, trust. But now, to his ears, it was poison wrapped in silk.

“Where are you?” she asked lightly. “Your boss. My dad. He’s looking for you. You can’t start your internship month by being late again, Nathan. It’s already the third time this week.”

Nathan froze. For a moment, her playful tone cracked his armor. Just the way she said his name, so casual, so familiar, was enough to shake him. He gripped the phone tighter. His chest tightened. He barely processed the words. He didn’t care about Victor Voss right now. He didn’t care about the internship.

All he could hear was the echo of her voice. A voice that once meant comfort. A voice that had once been part of the dreams he built for a future that never came.

He said nothing.

“Nathan?” she prompted, her tone softening into concern. “Are you there?”

Before he could answer, the Bitcoin system lit up in front of him, purple symbols flashing in his vision.

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┏Bitcoin system has discerned a spike in the Host’s emotional status┛

┏Reason for emotional spike identified as: Sierra Voss┛

┏Suggestion!┛

┏In regards to her betrayal and the CEO of Voss Financial Corp being her father, the system advises that you cut all ties with Sierra Voss as she offers you no meaningful aid in your journey┛

---

Nathan stared at the glowing words, his breathing unsteady. His heart hammered like it wanted out of his chest. The system was blunt. Ruthless. Logical. And it was right. He knew it was right.

The only way not to get stabbed in the back again was to stay the hell away from Sierra. To cut every rope before it strangled him. To end things before they even had a chance to begin.

He clenched his jaw, thinking. On the other end, Sierra kept talking, her voice flowing through the line like honey. He didn’t hear half of what she said.

When the silence on his side stretched too long, she called again. “Nathan? Can you hear me?”

He forced himself to snap out of it. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” His voice was hollow, like the shell of a man. “I’ll be there soon. Sorry. Just… caught up in some stuff.”

There was a pause. Then Sierra’s voice softened further, touched with real curiosity. “Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

Nathan blinked. That question caught him off guard. He hadn’t expected her to sound… concerned. He almost laughed bitterly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied quickly.

“You sure?” she pressed gently. “I know with your mom in the hospital and everything… things must be really tough for you. If you want, I could tell Dad you need a day off.”

Nathan froze. His body stiffened, every muscle locking into place.

Wait.

What?

Her words slammed into him like a freight train.

His mom. His… mother.

Nathan’s breath grew shallow. His chest tightened so much he thought he might suffocate. Images flashed through his mind. Memories. Pain.

This year. It was this year. This was the year she had gotten sick. The illness that tore through her body. The condition that had demanded surgery. A surgery he hadn’t been able to afford back then. He had begged. He had borrowed. He had failed. And she had…

His lips trembled. His throat burned. His mother had died. She had died because he couldn’t save her.

But now Sierra was saying she was alive. She was still here. Breathing. Waiting.

The world tilted. His breathing quickened, ragged. Sierra’s voice became distant, muffled, like she was speaking from underwater. None of her words mattered anymore. None of it compared to the single truth that had just cracked open in his mind.

It wasn’t just about Bitcoin. It wasn’t just about money or revenge or climbing back to the top.

This was about life. About saving the person who meant the most to him. About rewriting the worst chapter of his existence.

His mother was alive.

“Nathan?” Sierra’s voice tugged him back.

“I’m fine,” he said abruptly, cutting her off. His words came out sharp, too fast, like he was terrified she would say more and distract him from the only thing that mattered. “I’ll be at the office soon.”

Before she could reply, he ended the call. The phone hit the desk with a loud thud.

For a long time, he sat there. Stunned. His hands trembled. His eyes stung. A storm brewed inside him, anger and hope colliding. Hearing Sierra’s voice had dragged up bitterness like old wounds being torn open. But the thought of his mother… alive… that was a light piercing the dark tunnel he had lived in for so long.

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. His whole body buzzed with nervous energy. His mother needed him.

Nathan rushed into the bathroom. He took the fastest bath of his life, barely registering the cold water splashing over him. He toweled off quickly, dressed in his wrinkled suit, and stuffed his old laptop and a few books into his battered suitcase.

Then he grabbed his bicycle. It was rusty, the paint chipped, the chain squeaking every time he pedaled. But it was all he had. His only ride.

He pushed hard on the pedals, flying down the cracked streets. The city stretched out before him, waking up with the morning rush. Cars honked, people shouted, the smell of fried food from roadside stalls drifted in the air. But Nathan barely noticed any of it. The chilly air stung his face. His legs burned from the effort. His heart pounded, not from the ride, but from what waited at the end.

Up ahead, the hospital came into view. Morrison’s Hospital.

The building rose tall and proud, its sleek glass façade glinting like polished crystal under the morning sun. It had been designed in the shape of a giant cross, bold and daring, standing out like a beacon in the city. Everyone knew this place. It wasn’t just a hospital. It was a statement. A fortress of wealth and prestige. Owned by the renowned doctor Richard Morrison, a man who had tied his reputation to Nova Holdings, making the place feel untouchable.

Nathan rolled up to the entrance. He parked his old bike in the lot, its rusty frame looking pitiful next to the polished luxury cars lined up in neat rows. The contrast stung, but he ignored it. His eyes were locked on the doors.

Inside, the air smelled sharp with disinfectant and polished floors. The lobby buzzed with activity. Nurses in crisp white uniforms hurried past, their shoes clicking against the marble. Patients in expensive suits lounged in plush chairs, their voices low, their presence smug.

Nathan paused for a moment, overwhelmed. It had been so long since he’d stepped into this place. His chest felt tight, memories pressing in. He looked down at his wrinkled suit, at his scuffed shoes, and knew he looked out of place here. The glances from the staff confirmed it.

Still, he forced himself forward, heading to the reception desk.

The nurse behind it was young, chewing gum as if she had nothing better to do. She gave him a single look, her eyes flicking up and down his figure, dripping with disdain.

“Name?” she asked flatly.

“Nathan Cole,” he said, his voice steady even though his throat burned. “Here to see my mother.”

The nurse barely acknowledged him. She blew a bubble, popped it, and shoved the register toward him. “Sign here.”

Nathan signed quickly.

“You know the drill,” she muttered. “I’ll tell the doctor you’re here. That old lady is taking up space meant for more fitting patients. Do hurry up and get her out of here.”

Nathan froze. The words pierced him like knives. He turned his eyes on the woman, glaring, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt. She didn’t even look up from her phone.

His blood boiled. He wanted to shout, to slam his fist on the desk, to wipe the arrogance off her face. But he couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

He bit down the rage, swallowing it like poison.

Why? Why were people so cruel? Why did they treat others like trash just because they could? He hated it. Hated the coldness, the heartlessness.

But maybe, he thought, maybe people like her had to exist. Maybe cruelty was what made kindness shine brighter when it appeared.

He sighed, turning away. His steps echoed on the pristine floors as he moved deeper into the hospital. Marble tiles gleamed under his shoes. Paintings lined the walls. Everything screamed wealth and status.

More eyes followed him, judgmental, scanning his cheap suit. He ignored them. None of it mattered.

He stopped in front of a door. His hand hovered over the handle. His heart raced. His palms were sweaty. He was about to see her. His mother. For the first time in ten years.

He sucked in a deep breath. It did little to calm the storm inside.

He opened the door anyway.