Becoming Tyler Kramer: The Hidden Billionaire Boss’ Revenge

Chapter 9

Suddenly, Tyler stood, his clouded expression clearing.

He smiled politely at Lincoln.

“I should head out. Need to get a few last things,” he commented brightly. “As for those,” he continued, nodding at the file in Lincoln’s hand, “I need your best men on standby. For all of them.”

“But let’s have the information first. Have three of your guys ready for me. Ages thirty to thirty-five. Nothing lower, can go slightly higher, but they need to look young enough to pass comfortably,” Tyler rolled off, all business, his hazel eyes steady on Lincoln’s green ones.

“So…not Harry here?” Lincoln droned sarcastically.

Tyler glanced at Harrison, taking in the tall, boy-next-door type, well-built man who could not be thirty years old yet, then back to Lincoln.

He eyed Lincoln, who was thirty-something, ripped, fair-skinned, more than a little handsome gangster, slowly, up and down.

Amika shifted in his seat.

Harrison burst out laughing.

Lincoln’s eyes narrowed.

Tyler grinned.

“No, Sir,” Tyler replied playfully.

Lincoln placed large fists on his desk as he leaned forward toward Tyler, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bulging under his long-sleeved formal shirt.

“You –” Lincoln shot back at Tyler.

“Tomorrow, Boss Brazer,” Tyler cut in breezily. “His birthday is next week, I don’t want an incomplete gift for the Lord.”

Lincoln straightened, his brow cleared.

He nodded once.

Tyler nodded in return.

He bowed to Amika, spun around, and tapped Harry on the shoulder as he sauntered out.

“That kid…he’s dangerous,” Amika droned.

“No shit!” Lincoln commented quietly as he opened the file.

Of the twenty-three profiles his people had gathered on Edward Kramer’s mistresses, only five remained. He stared at the women’s faces.

Every single one was a beauty in her own right.

His eyes rested on the one with the fullest lips. Not surgically enhanced.

Then he moved to the others.

He handed the file to Amika.

The mage glanced through and nodded.

“Yes. This boy is powerful. And he doesn’t even know it,” the mage murmured.

Lincoln stared at his number two.

Amika glanced up. He raised his chin.

“Continue helping him. He is a better bet than the Kramers,” he commented mysteriously.

Lincoln nodded. He turned to his freshly returned other second in command as he sat on top of his desk.

Palming the folder, he ordered his man.

“We need three of our escorts. Not the popular ones. The more reserved ones. The age range specified,” he droned.

“Sure thing,” Harrison replied heartily.

==========

Tyler headed straight to his home, taking back streets and winding routes.

It was not that he didn’t trust Lincoln, a man who had been supporting him for years. It was simply that he didn’t trust anyone.

He touched the locket he had worn all his life lightly, as he sped through the darkness.

As always, it was hidden under his shirt.

He had two homes. One in the city, one outside.

He was heading outside now.

He drove up the dirt road leading to his cottage.

A very private space on a good-sized land, tucked away at the back of a servant’s estate.

A retirement community for former house carers of nobility – the highest of the lowest class in the nation of Ashrone, those who lived under ‘servitude.’

He found the irony extremely funny.

He had purchased land right beside the very type of place he had sworn, all his life, that he would never dwell.

And, he mused as he parked his car and walked up to the door, which was opened by an elderly man dressed neatly in a light blue dress shirt and dark brown pants.

I have a fucking butler!

“Jeeves…,” Tyler droned.

“How terribly droll, Master Esteil,” the old, retired butler retorted dryly.

Tyler grinned at the old man.

“How’s tricks?” Tyler continued pleasantly.

“Absolutely banging, Sir,” the man replied flatly.

Tyler laughed.

“Your dinner awaits, Sir. Please have some. Then, you may proceed to your workshop,” the old man called after the young one.

“Yes, Dad!” Tyler called lightly to the old man.

The old man, Tyler’s butler, gazed patiently after the young man, a small smile on his wrinkled face.

After his meal, as directed, Tyler worked till dawn.

The Master of the Miran Auction house was about to go on an extended leave – again – and he needed to have his loyal customers remain loyal.

==========

Back upstairs in his bedroom, Tyler stared at his reflection in the bathroom as water dripped off his face, and the soft rays of the sun kissed the sky.

His eyes went to his necklace.

An old, tired-looking pendant with a dull, copper-looking neck chain.

He smiled lightly.

“Mother,” he whispered.

“For you. For me. I will make them pay,” he said softly as he saw his mother’s gentle face.

He sniffed, wiping his nose forcefully.

He saw Lord Edward Kramer’s face and his mind moved to the past.

“Please, Sir, the hospital won’t operate without the deposit. Just the deposit, Sir, I beg of you. I’ll find the rest!” the young, twenty-year-old Tyler Esteil pleaded with his family’s employer of fourteen years.

“And how will you find it? Hmm? Will you steal from me or sell my family’s information?” the Lord of the world, Edward Kramer replied cooly as his three assistants looked on, smirking and snickering on the side.

“My Lord!” Tyler called out despondently, his face paling as the impossible thought of betraying his employer turned his stomach.

“Since you’re so smart, pay the deposit yourself or let your mother die. Get out of my office!” Lord Kramer bellowed, throwing a large book at Tyler’s feet.

The scene replayed clearly in Tyler’s mind.

His heart pounded against his chest, and his ears began to ring, even now, seven years later.

His face in the mirror reddened.

The next scene played.

“Please, Vincent, help me. Please. Just this once! Only the deposit! I’ll work for the money. Please! I’ll pay you back!” the young Tyler cried to his former ward.

“Mud-face,” the twenty-year-old Vincent Kramer droned caustically, “take your treasures from the mines and sell them! Sell yourself if you like! You’d do for more than a few commoners!” he retorted, laughing.

“Or…wait! Shall I bring you to some of my friends?” he droned, his cold eyes dancing as he eyed Tyler.

“Vincent!” Tyler all but wailed.

“That’s MASTER Vincent to you, you waif!” Vincent shot back, his words hitting like knives.

The young Tyler fell to his knees as his head spun. He stared up at the one he had valeted for, for twelve whole years.

“Master Vincent, please,” the young man croaked.

The young heir sneered. “Come with me to the club, I’m sure you’ll get at least half of the deposit tonight.”

Tyler hung his head in the bathroom. Just as he had eight years ago.

Then, he raised it. His hazel eyes, exactly like his mother’s eyes, were ablaze.