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MidReal Story
Billionaire Bae
Scenario:Kevin Kenmore, Jr. has led a hard broken life, a poor orphan, and his girlfriend is leaving him for a richer prospect. But his fortune is about to change dramatically. Kevin inherited immense wealth from his grandfather, shocking everyone. He was the heir to one of the two only multi-Quadrillonaire families in the world. He endures constant criticism and judgment from those around him. He vowed that those who had labeled him a failure would eventually bow at his feet. Now, how will he use his new-found wealth to shape those around him, as he reclaims his life? With a new-found sense of responsibility, Kevin will get revenge on those who treated him badly. Will he succeed?
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Kevin Kenmore, Jr.
He is the son of a single mother, orphaned at age seven. He is resilient, misunderstood, and determined. Kevin faced a harsh childhood with no family support after his parents died. His wealthy grandparents didn't acknowledge him. His girlfriend left him for someone wealthier. Kevin's life changed when he inherited his grandfather's vast fortune, becoming one of the world's richest men at age twentynine. Despite criticism and past struggles, Kevin remains steadfast in his pursuit of success and revenge against those who wronged him.
Catherine
She is Kevin Kenmore, Jr.'s former girlfriend. She is superficial, materialistic, and manipulative. Catherine left Kevin for someone wealthier, demonstrating her preference for status over stability in their relationship. Her past behavior contributed to Kevin's sense of inadequacy and contributed to his determination to succeed and seek revenge against those who wronged him, including her parents who were involved in their breakup.
Grandfather
He was a wealthy and influential figure. He was paternal, supportive, and secretive. The grandfather had a significant impact on Kevin's life as he secretly raised him alongside his own son after losing his only son unexpectedly. The grandfather left Kevin his entire estate upon passing, surprising everyone with his chosen heir. This act changes Kevin's fortunes and destiny forever.
I was an orphan at the age of seven, and my life since then had been a hard and bitter one.
I had no one to turn to and no family that would claim me.
My only choice was to live on the streets until I was old enough to find work.
Luckily, I was resourceful and smart, and I had taught myself to read and write, and even basic math, which had helped me find employment.
When I turned sixteen, I got a job in a small restaurant washing dishes.
From there, I worked my way up, always finding better-paying jobs until I was finally able to afford my own place.
It wasn’t much, but it was mine, and I was proud of what I had accomplished on my own.
I thought things were finally looking up for me, and maybe they were, but not in the way I had hoped.
My girlfriend, Catherine, left me the day before my birthday for a man who had more money than I did.
I thought Catherine loved me, not just my body, but apparently, I was wrong.
I slump at my kitchen table, staring at the pile of unpaid bills in front of me.
The morning sun streams through my dingy apartment window, casting a pale glow on the cluttered room.
I take a sip of my cold coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on my door, startling me from my thoughts.
I get up to answer it, wondering who it could be.
When I open the door, I see the mailman standing there with a large envelope in his hand.
"Good morning," he says with a smile.
"This came for you."
I take the envelope from him and thank him before closing the door.
I walk back to my table and examine the envelope more closely.
It’s thick and made of high-quality paper, with an expensive-looking seal on the back.
Curious, I open it and pull out the contents.
Inside, there are several papers printed on official letterhead from Morrison & Associates Law Firm.
I scan them quickly, and my eyes widen in shock as I read the words. My hands shake as I read through the papers again, trying to make sense of what they say.
It can’t be true.
It has to be some kind of joke or mistake.
But as I read on, I realize that it’s not a joke at all.
According to the letter, my grandfather has passed away and left me his entire fortune.
But how can that be?
I never knew my grandfather; in fact, I didn’t even know if he was still alive.
My parents never spoke much about their families, and when they died, all I had left was a small box of personal belongings that had been passed down through generations.
I drop the papers on the table and stumble backward until I reach my chair.
I sink down into it and grip the edge of the table tightly to steady myself. The letter says that I am now one of the richest men in the world, with over eighty quadrillion dollars at my disposal.
How is this possible?
I don’t even know what to do with that kind of money!
My mind races as I try to process everything that’s happening.
What do I do now?
Do I call someone?
Go somewhere?
The questions swirl around in my head until I feel like I’m going to pass out. My phone buzzes loudly on the table, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I answer it, knowing everything is about to change.
I stare at the letter in my shaking hands, reading and re-reading the figure printed on the page.
Eighty quadrillion dollars.
My phone keeps buzzing, probably Catherine calling to see if I’m okay after our breakup.
She always had impeccable timing when it came to drama.
I set it face-down on the table and reach for my landline instead.
The law firm’s number is printed in crisp black ink at the bottom of the letter.
Each digit I dial feels heavy, significant.
A receptionist answers with "Morrison & Associates."
I have to clear my throat twice before I can speak.
"This is Kevin Kenmore, Jr.," I manage to say, my voice cracking.
"I just received a letter about my grandfather's inheritance."
"Ah, Mr. Kenmore," the receptionist replies smoothly, "we've been expecting your call."
"Expecting my call?" I echo, bewildered. "I didn't even know he existed until today."
"Yes," she continues, her tone professional yet slightly conspiratorial, "your grandfather was quite secretive, but he had very specific plans for you."
I grip the landline tighter, my knuckles turning white.
"Who is this?"
I demand, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I'm transferring you to Mr. Morrison himself. He'll explain everything."
The line goes silent for a moment before a deep, authoritative voice comes on.
"Good morning, Mr. Kenmore," he says.
"This is James Morrison. I understand you received our letter."
"Yes," I reply, my voice still shaking.
"I don't understand what's going on."
Mr. Morrison clears his throat.
"Your grandfather was a very private man, but he always kept an eye on you from afar. He wanted to ensure that his heir was strong enough to handle such a vast fortune."
My brow furrows in confusion.
"But how? I've been living on the streets since I was seven."
"He knew," Mr. Morrison says gently.
"He had private investigators watching over you ever since you were a child. They documented your progress, your determination, and your resilience."
I feel a shiver run down my spine at the thought of being watched all these years.
"What do you mean by progress?"
I ask cautiously.
"He wanted to see if you could make something of yourself without any help," Mr. Morrison explains.
"He saw how you taught yourself to read in the public library and worked your way up from homelessness. He was proud of you." My eyes widen as I process his words.
"So...he knew about Catherine?"
"Yes," Mr. Morrison replies softly.
"He knew about everything, including your recent breakup."
I swallow hard, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me.
"But why didn't he ever reach out?"
Mr. Morrison pauses for a moment before speaking again.
"Your grandfather wanted to give you the chance to prove yourself without any influence from him. He wanted to see if you were strong enough to handle such wealth on your own merit."
"And what happens now?"
I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Now," Mr. Morrison says firmly, "you inherit his fortune and take over his business empire."
I feel like I've been punched in the gut as I process his words.
"How...how much money are we talking about?"
Mr. Morrison chuckles softly.
"Eighty quadrillion dollars, Mr. Kenmore."
My breath catches in my throat as I repeat the figure under my breath: "Eighty quadrillion dollars..."
"Yes," Mr. Morrison confirms, "and there's more than just money involved. Your grandfather built a vast business empire that needs your leadership now."
I listen intently as Mr. Morrison continues explaining the details of my inheritance.
My free hand grips the edge of the kitchen counter tightly, as if it's the only thing keeping me grounded.
"Your grandfather owned a 300-acre private island in the South Pacific," he says, his voice filled with a mix of awe and reverence.
"It's a paradise, complete with a mansion, staff quarters, and even a private airstrip."
I can almost picture it in my mind - crystal-clear waters, lush green forests, and pristine white sand beaches.
It sounds like a dream come true.
"The island has been fully staffed and maintained since your grandfather's passing," Mr. Morrison continues.
"They've been waiting for your arrival."
My mind races as I process this information.
A private island?
Staff?
What does it all mean?
"And what about security?"
I ask cautiously.
"Your grandfather was a man who valued privacy and safety above all else," Mr. Morrison replies.
"The island is equipped with state-of-the-art security systems and a team of highly trained guards. You'll be protected at all times." I think about Catherine and all the people who might come crawling back into my life now that I'm wealthy.
The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
But with this kind of protection, I feel safer already.
"What about access to the island?"
I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
"There's a private jet waiting for you at the airport," Mr. Morrison replies smoothly.
"We'll arrange everything for you. All you need to do is show up."
I take a deep breath, trying to process everything that's happening so fast.
A private island, staff, security...it's almost too much to handle.
But something about it feels right.
It feels like fate has finally smiled upon me after years of hardship.
"Okay," I say finally, my voice steady now.
"I'll come."
"Excellent," Mr. Morrison says with satisfaction in his voice.
"I'll send someone to pick you up in an hour. Be ready." As soon as I hang up the phone, my mind starts racing again.
What do I pack?
How long will I be gone?
And what exactly awaits me on that island?
I look around my cluttered apartment, feeling like an outsider in my own life.
Everything is about to change forever, and I can't wait to see what lies ahead. "Can you arrange transport to the island?"
I ask Mr. Morrison over the phone, my voice firm yet cautious.
"Mr. Kenmore," Mr. Morrison continues, "there's one more thing you should know before you leave."
"What is it?" I ask, my curiosity piqued.
"Your grandfather left a letter for you on the island, with instructions that it be opened only by you."
I hang up with Mr. Morrison and immediately start packing my meager belongings into my old duffel bag.
My hands tremble as I fold my three work uniforms and handful of casual clothes.
The apartment feels different now - smaller, temporary.
I can't shake the feeling that I'll never be back here again.
As I zip up my bag, I hear the sound of a TV blaring through the thin walls of my neighbor's apartment.
I recognize the familiar theme song of a popular news program.
Curiosity getting the better of me, I turn on my own TV to see what's happening in the world.
The news anchor is talking about a breaking story, and as I listen, my heart starts racing.
"...and in shocking news, it has been revealed that Kevin Kenmore, Jr., a previously unknown heir, has inherited a vast fortune from his recently deceased grandfather," the anchor says.
"Details are still coming in, but sources close to the family confirm that Mr. Kenmore is set to receive one of the largest inheritances in history."
I stare at the screen in disbelief as they show a grainy photo of me from high school.
How did they get that so quickly?
My phone vibrates again, this time with a message from an unknown number.
"Congratulations on your inheritance," it reads.
"We're all so proud of you."
I frown as I read the message.
Who could this be from?
And how do they know about my inheritance already?
I try to ignore it and continue packing, but more messages keep coming in - some congratulatory, others demanding money or attention. The news anchor continues talking about my inheritance, speculating about what this means for my future and how it will change my life forever.
It's surreal hearing them discuss me like this, as if I'm some kind of celebrity.
But deep down, I know that this is only the beginning.
My life is about to change in ways I never could have imagined.
As I finish packing and glance around my cluttered apartment one last time, I feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me - excitement, fear, uncertainty.
What will this new life bring?
And am I ready for it?
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.
It's not Catherine; she would have just barged in without knocking.
I cautiously approach the door and peek through the peephole to see who it is.
I open the door to find a tall, slender woman standing in the hallway.
She's dressed in a crisp navy suit that accentuates her professional demeanor.
Her dark hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she wears a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose.
She looks like she means business.
"Good morning, Mr. Kenmore," she says with a friendly smile.
"My name is Sarah Chen, and I'm here from Morrison & Associates."
She holds up a black leather badge with her ID and company logo emblazoned on it.
I glance at the badge briefly before looking back at her.
"What can I do for you?"
I ask cautiously.
"We're here to escort you to the airport," Ms. Chen explains.
"We've cleared a path through the crowd outside your building, so we should be able to get you there quickly."
I frown as I process her words.
"Crowd?"
I repeat.
"Yes," Ms. Chen replies matter-of-factly.
"The news of your inheritance has spread quickly, and there are already several reporters and photographers gathered outside your building."
I feel my stomach tighten at the thought of all those people waiting for me downstairs.
"I didn't realize it would happen so fast," I admit sheepishly.
Ms. Chen nods sympathetically.
"Don't worry," she assures me.
"We'll get you out of here safely." I nod in agreement and step aside to let Ms. Chen enter my apartment.
She scans the room briefly, taking in the small space and my single duffel bag sitting on the couch.
"Is this all you have?" she asks, gesturing toward my bag.
"Yes," I reply with a shrug.
"I don't have much."
Ms. Chen nods again and turns to face me.
"Very well, then," she says briskly.
"Let's get going."
I grab my bag and follow Ms. Chen out into the hallway, where two suited men in sunglasses stand waiting for us.
They're clearly security guards, and they flank us on either side as we make our way down the stairs to the lobby of my building.
As we approach the front doors, I can see a cluster of people gathered outside, their faces pressed against the glass as they try to get a glimpse of me inside. My heart races as I realize just how many people are waiting for me out there - reporters, photographers, even some curious onlookers who have heard about my inheritance through social media or word of mouth.
Ms. Chen reaches into her leather briefcase and pulls out a pair of dark aviator sunglasses and a plain black baseball cap.
"Put these on," she instructs me, helping me adjust the hat so that it casts a shadow over my face.
I can tell by the practiced way she moves that she's done this before with other clients.
The security guards position themselves on either side of me, creating a barrier between me and the crowd outside.
Through the lobby windows, I can see the flashes from cameras as reporters spot movement inside.
My hands tremble slightly as I put on the disguise.
The familiar weight of my duffel bag slung over my shoulder provides little comfort in this chaotic situation.
Ms. Chen checks her phone briefly before nodding to the guards.
I grip my duffel bag tighter as the glass doors slide open, releasing a wave of shouts and camera flashes.
The security guards form a tight barrier around me while Ms. Chen leads the way through the crowd.
Reporters thrust microphones toward my face, shouting questions about my grandfather and the inheritance.
Someone grabs at the hem of my jacket, but a guard blocks them quickly.
We push steadily forward, making our way toward a black SUV idling at the curb, its engine running.
The crowd surges closer, pressing against the guards as they try to keep us moving forward.
My hat nearly slips from my head, but I manage to catch it before it falls off completely.
Finally, we reach the vehicle, and Ms. Chen opens the door for me.
I dive into the leather interior, my duffel bag landing beside me on the seat.
Ms. Chen quickly enters from the other side, and the guards close the doors behind us.
The tinted windows muffle the shouts and camera flashes, but I can still see the crowd pressing against the vehicle as we pull away from the curb.
Security guards in black suits form a perimeter around us, keeping the reporters at bay as we make our way through the crowded street.
I catch glimpses of familiar faces in the crowd - my landlord, some of my neighbors, even Stuart from the diner where I wash dishes after school.
They all seem to be trying to get a glimpse of me, to understand what's happening.
The SUV glides smoothly through traffic, leaving the chaos behind.
My heart still races as I watch my old apartment building shrink in the rear window.
Ms. Chen hands me a bottle of water from her bag and offers me a reassuring smile.
"Mr. Kenmore," she begins, her voice calm yet firm, "there's something you need to know about your grandfather's estate."
I pause, the bottle halfway to my lips, and look at her intently.
"What is it?" I ask, my curiosity piqued despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.
Ms. Chen reaches into her briefcase and pulls out a thick leather portfolio.
She hands it to me, her expression serious.
"Your grandfather's estate is quite extensive," she explains, her voice measured.
"This portfolio contains all the necessary documents and information about your inheritance."
I take the portfolio from her and open it, revealing a stack of neatly organized papers.
The first page is a summary of my grandfather's assets, and my eyes widen as I read the figures.
80 Quadrillion dollars in total assets, spread across various global banks and investments.
My hands tremble slightly as I flip through the pages, detailing multiple private islands, a fleet of mega yachts, and hundreds of properties around the world.
I can't even begin to comprehend the scale of this wealth.
As I continue to read, a small black envelope slips out of the portfolio and falls into my lap.
I pick it up curiously, noticing that it's sealed with a gold crest bearing my family's initials. "What's this?" I ask Ms. Chen, holding up the envelope.
"That's your new Citibank card," she replies matter-of-factly.
"It has no spending limit."
I carefully open the envelope and pull out the card.
It feels heavy in my hand, its sleek black surface adorned with gold accents.
The platinum K catches the sunlight streaming through the window, sending a small shiver down my spine.
I place the heavy black card in my worn leather wallet, its platinum edges catching on the frayed fabric.
The wallet looks absurd now - a $5 thrift store purchase holding a card worth quadrillions.
Ms. Chen notices my hesitation and produces a sleek carbon fiber wallet from her briefcase.
"This is for you," she explains, handing it to me.
"It's designed specifically for high-net-worth individuals. The material is virtually indestructible, and it has enhanced security features to protect your personal information."
I take the new wallet, marveling at its lightweight yet solid feel.
I carefully transfer my old ID and the few dollars I have into the new one, making sure not to bend the Citibank card.
Then, I set my old wallet on the leather seat beside me.
The familiar creases and worn edges hold memories of every hard-earned dollar I've ever saved.
I glance back at the old wallet one last time before closing the new one, feeling the weight of a life transformed.
I pull out my new phone from the briefcase Ms. Chen provided and scroll through the pre-programmed contacts.
I find Morrison & Associates and dial the number for Mr. Morrison's direct line.
The phone rings once, and then a crisp, professional voice answers.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Kenmore," he says, as if he was expecting my call.
"Is there anything I can assist you with?"
I take a deep breath and try to compose myself.
"Yes, Mr. Morrison. I'm not sure how to manage all of this," I admit, gesturing to the portfolio in my lap.
"I don't know the first thing about handling this kind of wealth."
Mr. Morrison chuckles softly on the other end of the line.
"Don't worry, Mr. Kenmore," he assures me.
"That's what we're here for. We'll guide you through every step of the process."
I nod, even though he can't see me.
"Okay, thank you," I reply, feeling a bit more at ease.
"But there's something else I need to discuss with you," I continue, glancing at Ms. Chen who nods encouragingly.
"I'm concerned about security. With this kind of money, I'm worried about being targeted." Mr. Morrison's tone turns serious.
"I completely understand your concerns, Mr. Kenmore," he says.
"We take security very seriously here at Morrison & Associates. We have a team of experts who specialize in protecting our clients' assets and ensuring their safety."
I feel a sense of relief wash over me.
"That sounds reassuring," I say, grateful for his understanding.
"Is there anything specific you recommend I do in the meantime?"
"Yes, actually," Mr. Morrison responds promptly.
"Why don't you come by my office before you head to the airport? We can go over some paperwork and discuss further arrangements."
I look at Ms. Chen, who nods in agreement.
"Okay, that sounds good," I say into the phone.
"I'll see you soon."
As I hang up, Ms. Chen pulls out her own phone and dials a number.
"Redirect us to Morrison & Associates' office," she instructs whoever answers on the other end.
The SUV smoothly changes direction as we make our way towards the financial district.
I glance down at my old phone one last time before silencing it and slipping it into my duffel bag.
I lean back against the leather seat, watching as the familiar streets of my childhood give way to towering skyscrapers.
The diner where I washed dishes for years passes by on the left - its grimy windows and flickering neon sign a stark contrast to the gleaming glass towers that now surround us.
My duffel bag sits at my feet, containing everything I own in the world.
The leather portfolio rests on my lap, filled with documents that hold the key to unimaginable wealth.
Ms. Chen sits beside me, typing away on her tablet while occasionally glancing at her phone.
The weight of my new carbon fiber wallet presses against my leg, a constant reminder that every decision I make from now on will affect not just my life, but the lives of thousands of others.
I open the leather portfolio on my lap, carefully removing each document to study them more closely.
The first page is a breakdown of my liquid assets - forty quadrillion in cash deposits spread across Swiss, Cayman, and Singapore banks.
The next page lists properties: 47 mansions, 12 private islands, and 23 penthouses scattered across the globe.
As I turn the page, a set of photographs catches my eye.
They depict a sprawling estate in the Hamptons - its marble facade stretching across several acres of manicured lawn and pristine gardens.
A small note slips out from between the pages as I flip through them.
It's handwritten in elegant cursive on a piece of fine stationery:
"Dear Grandchild,
I hope this letter finds you well.
I'm writing to you from beyond the grave, knowing that one day you'll inherit my legacy.
As you read these words, know that you have the power to change lives and shape destinies.
Use your wealth wisely and never forget where you came from. I glance up at Ms. Chen, who's still engrossed in her work.
I tuck the note into my pocket, deciding to read it again when I'm alone.
Before I can delve deeper into the portfolio, Ms. Chen looks up from her tablet.
"We're approaching Morrison & Associates," she informs me.
"Please make sure all documents are secure."
I nod, carefully placing the documents back into the portfolio.
"Ms. Chen," I say, hesitating for a moment.
"Did you know my grandfather well?"