Becoming Tyler Kramer: The Hidden Billionaire Boss’ Revenge

Prologue

“Is this it?” the tall man with black hair and green eyes droned as he walked into the small room.

“Yeah,” the younger man with dark hair and hazel eyes replied, shutting the door behind his guest.

“Looks good,” the visitor proclaimed as he turned around, taking in his surroundings.

“Yeah?” the younger man replied vacantly, like a machine giving a pre-programmed response.

“Come on, Tyler, you need to embrace life a little bit more!” the slightly older man retorted casually.

“Yeah…,” Tyler breathed, automated reply, eyes on his visitor, mind elsewhere.

The jovial guest paused.

Then, he sighed.

He approached his young friend.

“It’s temporary,” he stated confidentially, “you need a place out of the way till we finish up your papers for the new job. It doesn’t get more out of the way than the Sticks.”

“Ye–”

The man grabbed Tyler between his shoulder and neck.

The younger man pressed his lips together, his eyes drifting to his sponsor.

“I can’t stand it, Lincoln,” Tyler stated quietly. “They’re all living their lives. All of them. And I –”

“You, Tyler, are preparing for battle. If you fuck this up now, they will swallow you. Nothing you have stashed away will save you,” Lincoln pressed, his grip tightening at the end of each statement.

Tyler shrugged off Lincoln’s heavy hand and walked deeper into the dim room.

Lincoln watched him patiently. He took in the younger man the same way he had assessed the room.

He has changed…

Lincoln mused.

Drastically.

Lincoln eyed the tall man before him, taking in his wider shoulders and leaner frame.

Leaner but not weaker. Not at all.

His hair had been longer then, Lincoln reminisced as his mind called up the teenager he had gotten to know pretty well – professionally.

It covered much of his face, and he carried himself like most lower-grade servants…

Hunched over as if trying to hide…

Lincoln continued as he watched the clear-eyed, chisel-faced man with the straight back and powerful presence.

Lincoln shook his head in his mind.

Prison, he mused, is not an easy place for most people.

But this kid…

He blossomed there…

Lincoln Brazer, the head of the most powerful mafia group in the city of Salvena, paused his thoughts and narrowed his green eyes at Tyler Esteil.

The formerly shaggy-haired, hesitant, demure, errand boy of the Kramer family, the wealthiest family in the nation, direct descendants of the kingdom’s first ruler.

“Where did you get the clothes?” Lincoln remarked casually, exhaling silently.

Tyler turned from the grimy window, his smooth brow furrowed.

“Didn’t you send them?” Tyler asked inquiringly.

Lincoln’s jaw tightened as he eyed Tyler from head to toe.

“No,” he replied flatly.

Tyler shrugged and turned back to the window.

“Someone’s sent me packages all through my stay at the Vault, I assumed it was you,” Tyler remarked distractedly.

The Vault. The highest security prison in the land. A place for the worst criminals.

A place Tyler Esteil had been sent to, most likely, to die; forgotten, alone.

But he had not died.

He had survived.

And, he had been released early. Thanks in no small part to the other man in the room. His sponsor. His friend, if he dared to be colorful.

But Tyler Esteil was not one for colors.

His mind had wandered from the moment Lincoln had stopped talking.

His mind had not stopped drifting since he stepped outside the Vault and entered the car his sponsor had arranged.

He was out, and it was time to collect on a very old, very painful bill. He was on edge.

He had not stopped pacing since he had arrived an hour earlier.

Bastards.

Tyler mused darkly.

Let my mother die under servitude and send me to the Vault just for striking your heir?!

Petty, spiteful bastards!

Tyler cursed in his mind.

The young man’s hands were balled into fists.

Lincoln stared.

Then, he moved to the single bed in the tiny room.

He sat. It creaked. Tyler’s head turned to him at the sound.

The two men were in a backwater motel located in the back alley of one of the worst neighborhoods in Salvena – the Sticks.

“I can’t stand this,” Tyler said again, even more quietly than the first time.

Lincoln nodded.

“Where do you want to start?” he asked calmly.

“I want to burn everything down,” Tyler growled.

“Starting from their house, their estate. I will break everything. I will end their entire family line. They took everything I have!”

“They have the whole world, yet they took mine. Without a thought!”

Lincoln held Tyler’s fiery gaze.

“They wouldn’t help me send a fucking maid who had worked for them for fourteen fucking years to the fucking hospital! Because I was putting myself through a better school than the one they had paid for?!” he growled incredulously.

“You know that’s not it,” Lincoln rumbled.

Tyler’s eyes snapped to the slightly older man.

“You lied to them,” he continued, unperturbed by the fiery gaze of his young friend.

“No. In fact, you DECEIVED them. That’s the point,” he stated flatly.

“Bastards!” Tyler bellowed as he spun and kicked the radiator. It shattered.

The young man fell silent.

He bowed his head, chest heaving as he backed Lincoln, not fully. No self-respecting inmate ever turned their back to anyone – ever.

Then, he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes.

He knelt beside the broken appliance, slowing his breathing.

Lincoln did not move.

The younger man exhaled and waved his hand over the damaged parts. The appliance repaired itself.

“I have an idea,” Lincoln rumbled into the silence.

Tyler shifted to a squatting position as he checked his work; he did not respond.

The older man continued evenly, “Let’s get you out of here. Even if you walked into the Kramer house right now, no one would know it’s you. You don’t have to hide this deeply.”

Tyler stood, his hazel eyes fixed on the gangster he had befriended almost six years ago after an incident during one of the many deliveries Tyler had made for Lord Edward Kramer to Lincoln Brazer.

Tyler’s brow furrowed.

“You just got out of jail. And it’s not like you’re one of us commoners. You servants have a soft kind of life, surrounded by luxuries.”

Tyler spun away.

Lincoln stood.

“And you are the Master of the Miran Auction house,” he remarked, his eyes on the young man as he deliberately reminded Tyler of his existing achievements.

Tyler glanced sidelong at Lincoln, his body facing the small window.

Lincoln took a step forward.

“This is not the type of place for you,” he continued placatingly.

Tyler turned fully.

“Your anger is understandable, but if you want to succeed, you must contain it. You didn’t grow your private business by wearing your heart on your sleeve. Calm yourself. Use your anger, don’t let it use you,” Lincoln stated firmly.

“You’re getting into the Belarnt’s subsidiary soon, you need to get used to dealing with civilians. Not more gutter rats,” he continued lightly, waving a slim hand around, toward the window.

“Prison is hard, but you adapted to it. You’re out now. And, you need to stay under the radar, for at least a full year, since they don’t know about your release.”

“Adapt again. Keep your head down. Prepare. Your enemy is, as you say, someone who owns the world. Don’t make mistakes. You’ll have your documentation within the week. ID, code numbers, the whole trip. But for now, let’s get you a better location,” Lincoln droned, a small smile on his face.

Tyler slightly raised his chin at the tall, muscular man with fair skin; a deceptive contrast to his dark personality.

“Where are we going?” Tyler rumbled.

Lincoln grinned, his green eyes flashing.