Becoming Tyler Kramer: The Hidden Billionaire Boss’ Revenge

Five years.

The Vault had taken five years of Tyler Esteil’s life.

As he stood at the grimy window of the worst motel in Salvena, watching the dark-haired man enter the building five floors below, he stewed in his quiet rage, an anger that had been burning within him for every day since his incarceration.

That’s the last thing the Kramers will ever take from me, he mused, turning to the door behind him.

He cleared his expression as he waited for his guest. Moments later, the door opened, and the dark-haired man strolled in. He cast a single, sweeping glance around the small room.

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

“Yeah?” Tyler 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 with green eyes retorted casually.

“Yeah…,” Tyler breathed, automated reply, his hazel gaze on his visitor, his 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.”

Tyler did not respond. He had not stopped pacing since he had arrived an hour earlier. His mind had not stopped drifting since he stepped outside the Vault and entered the car Lincoln had arranged.

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

“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, gripping the younger man between his shoulder and neck, his hold 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, assessing the younger man with far more depth than he had 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, calling up the image of the much younger man he had gotten to know well, professionally.

It covered much of his face. He also carried himself like most lower-grade servants; hunched over… as if trying to hide.

Lincoln shook his head inwardly as he compared the past Tyler to the clear-eyed, chiseled-faced man with the straight back and powerful presence before him now.

Prison, he mused, is not an easy place for most people. But this kid… he blossomed there.

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

Tyler turned from the window to which he had returned, his smooth brow furrowed. “Didn’t you send them?”

Lincoln’s jaw tightened as he eyed Tyler from head to toe. “No,” he replied flatly.

Tyler shrugged and turned back to the dull view. “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.

Tyler's hands balled into fists.

Bastards, he thought darkly. Let my mother die under servitude and send me to the Vault just for striking your heir?! Petty, spiteful bastards!

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

Lincoln moved to the single bed in the tiny room.  He sat. It creaked. Tyler’s head turned to him at the sound.

“Where do you want to start?” Lincoln 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!” he growled incredulously. “Because I was putting myself through a better school than the one they had paid for?!”

“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. Then he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, never turning his back fully to Lincoln. No self-respecting inmate ever turned their back to anyone – ever.

He knelt beside the broken appliance, slowing his breathing. Then he waved his hand over the damaged parts. The appliance repaired itself.

Lincoln did not move.

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

Tyler shifted to a squatting position as he checked his work. The older man continued.

“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.

“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 deliberately, reminding 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 firmly.

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 remarked.

“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 the cramped space.

“You need to stay under the radar for at least a full year, since they don’t know about your release. Adapt. 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.