The Reborn Tycoon: Taking Back My Life

Thrown to the Bottom of the Abyss

Martin fell unconscious, collapsing into a pool of his own blood.

Miller's breathing was heavy and rapid. He stood towering, staring at the helpless body of his twin beneath his feet. He wiped a splatter of Martin's blood from his own temple, then smiled with immense satisfaction at his masterpiece.

"Time to trade fates, Brother," Miller whispered, breaking the silence.

Without wasting a single second, Miller crouched beside Martin's body. He forcefully stripped the black suit from his brother's body. Then he unbuckled the genuine leather belt and pulled down his brother's wool trousers, leaving Martin wearing nothing but a blood-soaked shirt and his underwear.

Miller took the limited-edition platinum Rolex watch from Martin's left wrist and fastened it onto his own. He reached into his brother's trouser pocket to take the thick leather wallet and car keys resting passively inside.

"All these things look much better on me," Miller said to himself as he put on Martin's expensive suit; it was slightly too large, yet fit perfectly across his shoulders. "Starting tonight, I am Mr. Martin Whitlock."

Miller then tightly gripped the collar of Martin's messy shirt. He pulled and roughly dragged his nearly naked brother's body across the warehouse floor, heading toward the luxury sedan parked outside.

"You are quite heavy, CEO. Eating too much good food from five-star restaurants every night, huh?" Miller mocked cynically while pressing a button on the car key to open the trunk.

He gathered all his strength, lifting and throwing Martin's body into the trunk like a worthless sack of rotting garbage.

SLAM!

The trunk was closed with a loud, echoing slam. Miller walked around with confident strides and got into the driver's seat. He deeply inhaled the scent of the luxury car's perfume and smelled the premium leather seats inside the cabin, his eyes closed in sheer bliss. The warmth of the car's heater immediately welcomed the pores of his skin, a drastic contrast to the freezing streets he usually slept on every night.

"Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Now, let us throw this trash into the most appropriate dump," Miller muttered, smiling widely to reveal his teeth.

Miller started the engine, which roared smoothly, and sped the car through the curtain of the night rain. He drove casually away from the old house area, steering the wheels toward the Zwartebos Forest, famous for being dense, having steep ravines, and being extremely desolate on the outskirts of the city.

The trip took almost forty minutes due to the slippery asphalt roads. During that long drive, Miller practiced mimicking Martin's way of speaking, which he had watched over and over in various television interviews.

"Good morning, Board of Directors. Let us begin today's budget meeting," Miller said, practicing Martin's baritone voice inside the speeding car. He stared at his reflection in the rearview mirror, adjusting his slightly crooked shirt collar. "Hello, my darling Moana. I am home. Get ready to take off your clothes and serve me in bed tonight."

Arriving at the edge of the pitch-black, steep cliff of the Zwartebos Forest, Miller stopped the car, leaving the engine running and the headlights shining forward. The rain fell even more furiously, slowly washing away the car's tire tracks on the muddy ground. He stepped out into the freezing night storm, popped the trunk, and pulled Martin's body out.

"Wake up, Martin. Open your eyes and look around you. This is your final stop in this cruel world," Miller said casually as he continued dragging his brother's body across the wet weeds toward the edge of the steep cliff.

The abyss below was so dark it seemed bottomless, accompanied by the roaring sound of a fiercely swirling, rocky river deep down at the bottom. Miller positioned half of Martin's body to hang over the very edge of the cliff. He crouched down and stared straight at his brother's face, which was now horrifyingly and permanently disfigured by his own knife slashes. Blood was still seeping very slowly from the face and stomach of the poor, dying man.

"Such a beautiful sight. Not a single person will be able to recognize this handsome face of yours, even if the police manage to find your corpse. And your beloved wife will absolutely never know that the man groaning in pleasure on top of her body tonight is me."

Martin did not respond or move at all; his breaths were incredibly shallow and almost inaudible.

"Goodbye forever, my stupid brother."

With one hand, Miller pushed hard against Martin's chest. Martin's helpless body tipped over limply, plummeting down into the pitch-black darkness of the deadly Zwartebos abyss.

Miller did not bother waiting to hear the sound of the body hitting the bottom. He immediately turned around, walking with a satisfied smile back to his luxury car, and stepped hard on the gas pedal, heading toward the glittering life of downtown Amsterdam.

At the freezing bottom of the abyss, completely untouched by the slightest bit of light, Martin Whitlock's shattered body lay among the sharp rocks, his blood slowly merging with the freezing river current. Will the heart of this billionaire truly stop beating tonight?