The Reborn Tycoon: Taking Back My Life

The New Tyrant at the Board Table

"Good morning, Mr. Whitlock."

"Pleasure to see you this morning, Mr. President."

Those highly respectful greetings welcomed Miller's footsteps the exact moment he stepped out of the executive elevator on the fortieth floor of Whitlock Tower. The employees bustling through the black marble hallways instantly halted their tracks, bowing their heads in deep reverence. No one dared to look directly into the CEO's face for more than a single second.

Miller gave a curt nod without uttering a single word. His chin was tilted high with pure arrogance, his chest puffed out proudly beneath his custom-tailored suit. His leather shoes produced rhythmic, echoing clicks against the marble, projecting an aura of absolute authority into every corner of the room.

It was absolutely perfect. The filthy street rat who was constantly chased away from restaurant doors was now being worshipped like a king by Amsterdam's elite.

"Is the schedule for today's meeting ready?" Miller asked, utilizing the deep baritone voice he had practiced, as he walked past Martin's personal assistant, a young blonde woman named Clara.

Clara immediately stood up from behind her desk, clutching a digital tablet to her chest with a professional, yet slightly nervous expression. "Yes, Mr. Whitlock. The entire Board of Directors has been waiting for you in the main conference room for fifteen minutes. They are ready to discuss the third-quarter reports and the status of the Rotterdam port expansion project."

"Good. Bring me a cup of black espresso, no sugar. And ensure absolutely no one interrupts me while the meeting is in session."

"Right away, sir."

Miller slid open the door to the conference room. The massive, soundproof space was occupied by twelve middle-aged men and women in sharp suits, who all stood up in absolute unison the second his figure appeared in the doorway.

Miller swaggered haughtily toward his grand chair at the head of the oval table. He sat down slowly, crossed his legs, and gave a dismissive wave of his hand, signaling the others to take their seats.

"Let's begin. My time is extremely valuable today," Miller stated, opening his very first meeting by perfectly mimicking Martin's cold, highly efficient speaking style.

A plump man wearing glasses on his right immediately cleared his throat softly. "Mr. Whitlock, regarding the construction project for the new logistics terminal at the port of Rotterdam... The contractors are complaining about a delay in the supply of steel materials from the German supplier. They are requesting a two-month deadline extension and an emergency fund injection of five million Euros to cover the ballooning operational costs. What is your decision?"

Miller froze completely stiff.

The port of Rotterdam? Steel materials? A five-million Euro budget? His brain was entirely blank. He was a man from the slums who had never managed multi-billion dollar construction projects, let alone understood international logistics supply chains.

"Five million Euros? You are asking for extra money to cover the management failures of those idiot contractors?" Miller shot back, using pure aggression as a shield to mask his absolute ignorance. His eyes narrowed sharply, glaring at the plump man.

"B-but sir, the initial contract explicitly includes a force majeure clause for delays that are not the contractor's fault. If we refuse, the project will be stalled indefinitely, and our losses will be far greater than five million," the man attempted to explain, cold sweat already forming on his forehead.

"I don't care about the initial contract. I am the law in this company," Miller's voice boomed fiercely, his fist slamming down on the wooden table so hard the coffee cups rattled. "You tell them to finish that project on time with the remaining funds, or I will sue them for corporate fraud and bankrupt their entire company by next month! Is that perfectly clear?!"

An incredibly awkward, suffocatingly tense silence instantly engulfed the room. The directors exchanged extremely pale, horrified glances. Martin Whitlock was indeed known as a highly strict and disciplined CEO, but he never blatantly ignored contract clauses, and he always resolved issues through cold, elegant negotiation, not by screaming like a vulgar street thug.

"And there is one more crucial matter," Miller spoke up again before anyone dared to voice a protest. He leaned forward, glaring menacingly at each of his directors' faces one by one. "Starting next month, I want us to sell off all our property assets and branch companies located in Eastern Europe. Prague, Warsaw, Budapest. All of them."

That sudden declaration was like a bomb being dropped straight onto the center of the conference table.

"Sell the Eastern European assets?!"

An elderly man with neatly combed white hair at the far end of the table instantly shot up from his chair. The man was Albertus, the Vice President of Whitlock Group and an old best friend of Martin's late father, who had helped build this empire from the ground up. His wrinkled face flushed red with a mix of shock and utter fury.

"What do you mean, Martin? Our assets in Eastern Europe are the foundation of our power in emerging markets! The profits surged by fifteen percent just last year! Selling them off now would be the equivalent of chopping off our own right arm! Your father would be absolutely furious from beyond the grave if he heard this sheer madness!" Albertus argued loudly, pointing a trembling finger straight at Miller.

"My father is dead and rotting in the dirt, Albert. Don't use that old man's name to dictate my decisions," Miller retorted with an incredibly disrespectful, mocking tone, a highly sinister smirk curling on his lips. His sole motive for selling those assets was purely to liquidate massive amounts of cash as quickly as possible, before anyone realized who he actually was. He wanted to drain the company's treasury dry.

"You are acting completely irrational today, Martin! What is wrong with you? You look absolutely nothing like the genius, highly calculated Martin Whitlock I've known for the past ten years!" Albertus attacked, slamming his veiny palms onto the table.

Miller's eyes narrowed sharply like daggers. Albertus' statement struck the most sensitive nerve of his deeply rooted insecurities. He absolutely despised being compared to Martin. And he loathed anyone questioning the authority he had just violently stolen last night. His ruthless, impulsive, feral nature instantly exploded, shattering the CEO mask into pieces.

"Are you questioning my sanity, Albert?" Miller stood up slowly from his chair. He walked casually around the oval table, approaching Albertus, who was still standing rigidly in place.

"I-I am merely warning you for the sake of this company's future," Albertus replied, slightly intimidated by the purely murderous aura radiating from Miller's eyes.

Miller stopped right beside Albertus. Without a single ounce of warning, his massive, powerful hand grabbed the back collar of the old man's suit in a vice-like grip, and violently dragged him out of his chair.

"Ah! Let me go! What are you doing?!" Albertus screamed, thrashing on the floor, desperately trying to break Miller's iron grip.

Every other member of the board of directors violently flinched back in their chairs, their eyes bulging wide in horror at the brutal spectacle that had never once occurred in the history of the Whitlock Group. Not a single person dared to intervene.

Miller dragged Albertus all the way to the conference room's main doors, kicked them open roughly, and literally hurled the old man's body so hard he tumbled out into the executive hallway. Passing employees shrieked in absolute terror seeing their Vice President thrown out like a piece of garbage.

"As of this exact second, you are fired from this company, Albert! Pack up your trash and get out of my building before lunch, or I will have security throw you out that damn window!" Miller roared, his voice echoing violently down the hallway.

"You have lost your mind, Martin! You are destroying your father's entire legacy!" Albertus shot back, his voice trembling as he clutched his aching, elderly waist.

"I am creating my own legacy!"