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MidReal Story
Daddy's Rich Daughter
Scenario:В этой истории будет девушка Белисон. Белисон 20 лет, она учится на юриста. Она из богатой семьи. Семья миллионеров. Она родилась золотой ложкой во рту. У ее папы крупный бизнес. Его фамилию знает весь Париж. Нет места во Франции где не знаеют Вивьена Бессон. У нас с отцом замечательные отношения, я настоящая папина дочка, в отличие от матери. Адель Бессон. С матерью у натянутые отношения. Белисон считает свою мать Адель двух личной, но все равно любит. Но соры у них частые.Родители разошлись когда Белисон было семь. Мать ушла потому что всю жизнь она гналась за деньгами, но фамилию оставила мужа, так как отец Белисон после развода с Адель, резко поднялся по карьерной лестнице. Белисон живет с отцом, с матерью видится очень редко, так как матери нужно только деньги, не дочь. Белисон девушка которая не любит отказа, отец ее избаловал, но при этом она не капризная. Она не боится запачкать свой дорогой маникюр если ее попросить о помощи дом работница. Белисон добрая, вежливая, культурная девушка, которая не любит разачаровывать отца. Но у нее есть и другая личность. Это твердый, характер. Характер начальника. Характер она взяла отца, как и харизма и ум, а вот внешность взяла мамину. Белисон ростом 167, длинные стройные ноги, выразительные черты фигуры. Светло зеленые глаза, и каштановые волосы.
У отца Белисон есть друг, он и напарник по бизнесу, и имя его Даниель Амперь. Он старше Белисон на 11 лет. Но он Белисон это не смущает, она влюблена в него с ее 15 летия. Он высокий брюнет, с темно черными глазами, его рост 186. Он злой человек. Он угрюмый. Полное противоположность Вивьена Бессон. Отличия от Даниель, он добрый человек, и светлый. Даниель наглый, хам. Так же грубость это его вид общения с людьми. Белисон влюблена в Даниэля, она призналась ему в чувствах в 17 лет, и он ее отрег. Отказал ей влюбиви, она для него всегда будет маленькой девочкой. Отношения у них сейчас чисто дружеские.В будущем Даниэлю понравится Белисон и он в нее влюбиться. У них будут очень яркие отношения.
У Белисон есть друг Джорш, он веселый парень. Они дружат
Create my version of this story
Belison Besson
She is a 20yearold law student in Paris. She is polite, independent, and introspective. Belison comes from a wealthy family with a troubled past. Her parents divorced when she was seven, and she was raised by her father, Vivien Besson. She adores her father despite the occasional challenge of his indulgent nature. Belison is intelligent and determined to make her own mark in the world apart from her family's legacy.
Adele Besson
She is Belison’s biological mother and a former social worker. She is demanding, dismissive, and materialistic. Adele left her family after divorcing Vivien to pursue her own interests. She now lives in an affluent neighborhood with her own circle of friends. Adele frequently asks for money from Belison, demonstrating a cold relationship filled with tension and a focus on personal gain rather than emotional connection.
Daniel Ampery
He is a businessman and law partner of Belison's father. He is intelligent, gruff, and complex. Daniel often comes across as rude due to his direct nature but holds great respect for Vivien and their shared business endeavors. Despite previously rejecting Belison's advances, he genuinely values her intellect and professional prowess, making him both an acquaintance and potential future ally for Belison.
My name is Belison.
I am 20 years old, studying law in one of the best universities in Paris.
I have everything I want and need.
I come from a wealthy family, or you can say I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth.
My father is a millionaire, well known throughout Paris, and there is no place in France where people do not recognize his name: Vivien Besson.
He has his own business, and my mother, Adele Besson, was a former social worker.
They met while he was working in a law firm and she came for some help.
They fell in love, got married, and had me two years later.
I adore my father; he is the best dad anyone can have.
He is sweet, kind, and generous.
Sometimes I think he is too kind and lenient toward me.
He gave me everything I ever wanted since I was little.
He never said no to me unless it was harmful to me.
That is why people call me a spoiled brat behind my back, but they do not know that I am not capricious.
If the housemaid asks for help with anything, even if it will ruin my manicure, I will not hesitate to lend her a hand.
I am polite, cultured, and independent.
My parents divorced when I was seven years old.
My mother left because she came from a poor family and always dreamed of having a better life with more money.
I take my time getting ready.
I choose a cream-colored Chanel suit that Father gave me last month for my birthday.
The skirt is knee-length and the blazer has a V-cut neckline, and I pair it with a white silk blouse.
I put on my black pumps and grab my handbag.
The drive through morning Paris traffic takes longer than usual, but I do not mind.
I enjoy the view of the Eiffel Tower and the beautiful cityscape.
When I arrive at Father's office building, I park my car and get out.
I walk toward the elevator and press the button to Father's floor.
It takes a few minutes for the elevator to arrive, and when it does, I step inside and press the button to his floor.
The elevator moves quickly, and soon I am standing in front of Father's office door.
Before knocking, I check my reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall outside his office.
I straighten my blazer and smooth out my skirt before knocking on the door. "Come in," Father calls from inside his office.
I open the door and walk in.
Father's secretary Emma greets me with a smile as she always does every time I come to visit him at work.
"Good morning, Miss Besson," she says with her usual warm smile.
"Good morning, Emma," I greet her back with a smile of my own.
"Your father is busy right now. He will be done in about ten minutes."
"That's okay," I say as I take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk.
She nods and goes back to typing on her computer.
I sit there for a few minutes before I get bored and stand up to walk around Father's office suite.
As I walk past his office, I see him sitting behind his desk talking to someone who has his back turned toward me.
I cannot see who it is, but he seems important because Father never lets anyone sit in his chair unless it is someone very important or close to him. As I continue walking around, I notice that Emma keeps glancing at me with an odd look on her face like she wants to tell me something but does not know how to say it. Finally, after a few more minutes, she stands up and comes over to where I am standing by the window looking out at the city below us. "Miss Besson," she says quietly so that no one else can hear us talking. "Yes?"
"There's something you need to know about your father."
I lean forward in my leather chair, studying her worried expression as she fidgets with her tablet.
The normally composed secretary glances nervously at the closed office door where Father's muffled voice carries through discussing quarterly reports.
She perches on the edge of her desk, lowering her voice to barely above a whisper.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know how to tell you this," she admits, her eyes darting around the room.
My heart begins to pound in my chest as I process her words.
I smooth my new Chanel skirt and take a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure.
"Please, Emma. I need to know," I say calmly, despite the growing unease inside me.
She hesitates for a moment before speaking again.
"Last week, I was organizing your father's papers when I came across some medical test results," she explains, her voice trembling slightly.
"I didn't mean to snoop, but they were mixed up with other documents."
I grip the armrests tightly, my manicured fingers digging into the leather as she continues speaking.
"The results showed some concerning abnormalities. And then I saw that your father had an appointment with an oncologist scheduled for next week."
The word "oncologist" hangs in the air like a dark cloud.
I feel a lump form in my throat as I try to process what she is telling me. "Miss Besson?" she asks softly, concern etched on her face.
I nod slowly, trying to keep my emotions in check.
"Thank you for telling me," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
After Emma leaves, I pace the office, trying to gather my thoughts.
The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner marks each passing minute.
Through the mahogany door, I can hear muffled voices as Father's meeting comes to a close.
My hands smooth my Chanel skirt repeatedly, a nervous habit I've developed over the years.
When Daniel Ampery finally exits, he gives me a questioning look, noticing my tense posture.
I ignore him, focusing instead on gathering the courage to face Father.
One by one, the other executives file out of the office until it is just Father left inside.
Taking a deep breath, I stand up and walk toward his study door.
My hand trembles as I rap twice on the heavy mahogany door.
"Come in," Father's warm voice calls out from inside.
I open the door and step into his study, where afternoon sunlight streams through the tall windows, casting a golden glow on the room.
Father sits behind his massive desk, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose as he reviews some documents.
His sleeves are rolled up, revealing his tanned forearms, and the faint scent of his cologne wafts through the air.
The familiar scene before me - my father engrossed in work - makes my chest tighten.
I close the door carefully behind me and cross the plush carpet, my heels sinking silently into its softness.
When I reach his desk, I pause for a moment before speaking.
"Papa," I start, my voice catching slightly.
He looks up, a hint of surprise in his eyes.
"Yes, darling? Is everything alright?" he asks, setting his papers aside.
I swallow hard, forcing the words out. "Emma told me about the test results... and the oncologist appointment."
Father's face falls, his usual confident expression faltering for a moment.
He removes his reading glasses and sets them on the desk, rubbing his temples with his thumb and index finger.
The silence stretches between us as the afternoon shadows lengthen across the carpet.
I stand frozen, my hands clasped tightly in front of me, waiting for him to deny everything.
But instead, he slowly pushes back his leather chair and stands up.
His footsteps are heavy as he walks around the massive oak desk and comes to a stop in front of me.
When he reaches out, I collapse into his embrace as he pulls me close.
The familiar scent of his cologne envelops me - a mix of cedarwood and bergamot.
I lean into his chest, his silk tie brushing against my cheek.
His hand moves through my hair, a gentle motion that reminds me of when I was a child and had nightmares.
He would sit beside my bed, stroking my hair until I fell asleep again.
"We will get through this together," he whispers, his voice filled with reassurance.
The words catch in my throat as I fight back tears.
I want to be strong for him, but the dam breaks and tears slide down my cheeks.
His embrace tightens as my shoulders shake.
Through blurred vision, I notice the handkerchief he hands me is one of his pristine white ones, now stained with my makeup.
The sun dips lower outside, casting long shadows across the carpet.
In that moment, I realize the strength I've always sought was right here, in the quiet resilience of his unwavering presence.
I pull back from Father's embrace, dabbing at my eyes with his handkerchief.
The silk fabric feels soft against my damp cheeks as I try to clean the mascara stains.
Father's hands rest firmly on my shoulders, and I can sense him studying my face.
When I finally look up, his eyes hold the same determined expression he wears during important business negotiations.
The familiar sight steadies me.
Though my chin trembles slightly, I meet his gaze and give a small nod, silently accepting our shared battle ahead.
"There's something else you should know," he says, his voice steady but laced with an unfamiliar vulnerability.
I nod, bracing myself for whatever revelation might come next.
"The company... I've decided to step down as CEO," he confesses, his eyes searching mine for understanding.
I steady myself against the edge of his mahogany desk, my fingers tracing the intricate carvings that adorn it.
"The doctors say I have a good chance of recovery, but the treatment will be rigorous," he explains, his voice filled with a mix of determination and resignation.
"I need to focus on my health, and the company needs strong leadership during this time."
My mind reels as I process his words.
The weight of the situation settles heavily upon me, threatening to overwhelm my fragile composure.
Father takes a step closer, his eyes filled with a mixture of resolve and concern.
"I've been thinking about this for a while now. The company needs someone who understands its values and vision. Someone who can lead with both heart and strategy."
I swallow hard, my throat dry and tight.
"Father, I... I don't know what to say."
He places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his touch warm and comforting.
"I want you to take over as CEO," he says, his voice filled with conviction.
"You're young, I know, but you've grown into an exceptional individual. Your law studies have prepared you well for this role."
My mind races as I try to comprehend the magnitude of what he's asking of me.
Me?
A CEO?
It feels surreal, like stepping into a dream that might shatter at any moment.
"But Father... I don't have the experience," I protest weakly, my voice barely above a whisper. He smiles gently, his eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement.
"Experience is not everything. You've been learning from me for years, even if you didn't realize it. All those dinners we had together where we discussed business strategies... I was secretly grooming you for this moment."
I'm taken aback by his revelation.
Those dinners had always felt like special bonding moments between us - sharing stories about our day and discussing our passions.
I never realized there was an ulterior motive behind them.
"Besides," he continues, "you'll have guidance. Daniel Ampery will be there to support you in your new role."
My chest tightens at the mention of Daniel's name.
Daniel Ampery - the man who has been Father's right-hand man for years.
The man who has always been there in the background, observing and advising with an air of quiet confidence.
We haven't spoken properly since that fateful night when I confessed my feelings to him as a naive teenager.
Father's eyes soften as he notices my reaction to Daniel's name.
"I know things were complicated between you two, but he's agreed to put the past aside for the sake of the company," he says gently.
I nod slowly, trying to mask the turmoil inside me, "I'll do it, Father. I'll lead the company."
I sit at my father's desk after he leaves for another meeting.
My fingers run along the polished mahogany surface, feeling the subtle grooves and carvings that adorn it.
This desk has been his for years, a symbol of his power and authority.
And now, it will be mine.
The weight of his revelation settles heavily over me.
Stepping down as CEO?
It's a decision that feels both monumental and heartbreaking.
I glance around the office, taking in the familiar surroundings.
Family photos adorn the walls, alongside framed awards and recognition for his contributions to the business world.
On the desk, there are stacks of papers, business reports, and a leather-bound planner filled with handwritten notes.
My gaze falls on the nameplate that sits at the edge of the desk - "Ethan Thompson, CEO."
A shiver runs down my spine as I pick it up, running my thumb over the engraved letters.
In a few weeks, this will be replaced with a new nameplate bearing my name. My hands tremble slightly as I set it back down, trying to steady myself against the rush of emotions flooding through me.
The door to the office opens without warning, causing me to jump in my seat.
Daniel Ampery steps inside, his dark eyes fixed intently on me.
"Sorry to interrupt," he says, his voice smooth but tinged with a hint of awkwardness.
"I didn't know you'd be here."
I quickly straighten my posture, setting aside any lingering thoughts about my new role.
"Daniel," I greet him, trying to keep my voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
"It's been a while."
He nods curtly, closing the door behind him before approaching my father's desk.
"I heard about Ethan's decision," Daniel says, his gaze unwavering as he studies my expression.
"Yes," I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "It's a lot to take in."
He leans against the desk, crossing his arms. "I want you to know that I'll support you in any way I can. We both want what's best for the company."
I lean back in Father's leather chair, forcing myself to meet Daniel's intense gaze.
His dark eyes study me carefully, as if trying to decipher the emotions swirling beneath the surface.
I keep my expression neutral, determined to maintain a professional facade despite the awkward tension between us.
My fingers absently trace the edge of Father's brass nameplate, feeling the smoothness of the metal against my fingertips.
"It's a lot to take in," I admit, my voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside me.
Daniel nods understandingly, his gaze never wavering from mine.
"I know it's a lot to process. But we need to focus on the immediate steps ahead."
I nod, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
"Of course. What are the next steps?"
Daniel straightens up, his demeanor shifting into a more businesslike mode.
"We need to schedule a board meeting to officially announce Ethan's decision and introduce you as his successor. Then we'll have to prepare presentations for the stakeholders and investors. There will also be legal documents to sign and various contracts to review." I listen intently, mentally preparing myself for the tasks ahead.
As he speaks, I notice a subtle softening in his tone when he mentions Father's condition.
Despite their professional relationship, it's clear that Daniel cares deeply about him.
"Once we've taken care of those formalities, we can start discussing strategies for the future of the company," Daniel continues, his voice filled with determination.
"We need to ensure a smooth transition and maintain stability during this time."
I nod again, feeling a surge of gratitude towards him for his unwavering support.
"Thank you, Daniel," I say sincerely.
"I appreciate your guidance and trust in me."
He offers a small smile, a rare sight that catches me off guard.
"You're welcome," he replies softly.
"We'll get through this together."
With that, he turns to leave, but not before casting one last glance at me over his shoulder.
I stand up from the chair, smoothing out my dress as I follow him towards the door.
As he reaches for the doorknob, I extend my hand formally towards him. "Let's do this," I say with renewed determination in my voice.
Daniel pauses momentarily before turning around to face me again.
Our eyes lock once more, filled with an unspoken understanding of what lies ahead for both of us.
He takes my extended hand firmly in his own, giving it a solid shake that conveys a mix of respect and solidarity.
Alone in Father's office, I settle into his leather chair and pull his worn leather notebook from the desk drawer.
The familiar scent of leather and paper fills my nose as I open it, revealing neatly handwritten notes from previous meetings.
My hands shake slightly as I write the date at the top of a fresh page.
With each stroke of my pen, the weight of responsibility settles heavier on my shoulders.
I begin listing the agenda items for the upcoming board meeting:
"Announcement of Leadership Transition," "Introduction of New CEO," "Q4 Financial Review."
Each point I write makes this situation more real, more tangible.
I close the notebook, knowing that tomorrow begins a new chapter for both the company and me.
I pick up Father's phone from his desk and navigate to Daniel's contact.
My fingers hover over the call button for a moment before I finally press it.
He answers on the second ring, his deep voice filling the room.
"Hello?"
I clear my throat, trying to sound as composed as possible.
"Daniel, it's me. I need your input on the board meeting agenda."
There's a brief pause before he responds.
"I can come by your office now if you'd like."
I glance around Father's office, feeling a mix of emotions.
"I'm actually in Father's office right now. But I can meet you at the café downstairs in 10 minutes if that works for you."
"Sounds good," he replies, his tone professional.
"I'll see you then."
We hang up, and I flip through Father's notebook again, making sure I haven't missed anything crucial.
With the notebook clutched tightly in my hand, I stand up and straighten my Chanel suit jacket.
I grab my tablet and head towards the door, pausing one last time at Father's desk.
As I turn to leave, the phone rings again, startling me.
I hesitate before answering, unsure of who it might be.
"It's Ethan," my father's voice comes through, unexpectedly calm.
I lean against the desk, phone pressed to my ear.
"Ethan is demanding a meeting about the merger," he explains, his voice crackling through the line.
"He knows about my condition."
My stomach tightens at the mention of Ethan's name.
He's our biggest competitor and has been trying to buy us out for years.
I glance at my watch, thinking of Daniel waiting at the café.
The merger documents in Father's desk drawer suddenly feel heavier.
"I'll handle Ethan," I say firmly, already reaching for the drawer.
"Be careful," Father warns, his voice laced with concern.
"Ethan's not someone to underestimate, especially now."
I nod, even though he can't see me, determination hardening my resolve.
I tuck the merger documents into my leather portfolio, the weight of them pressing against my side.
My heels click against the marble floors as I hurry towards the elevator.
The security guard gives me a nod as I pass through the lobby's revolving doors and into the crisp afternoon air.
Through the café's window, I spot Daniel at our usual corner table, reviewing papers while sipping his espresso.
My hands smooth down my Chanel skirt before I push open the heavy glass door.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee envelops me, but my focus remains fixed on the portfolio in my hand.
I slide into the café chair across from Daniel, setting my portfolio on the small round table between us.
His espresso cup sits untouched as he studies financial reports.
The café buzzes with the chatter of patrons and the whir of coffee grinders in the background.
I pull out the merger documents, their weight heavy in my hands.
"We need a plan to deal with Ethan," I whisper, leaning forward to keep our conversation private.
Daniel's dark eyes narrow as he sets down his papers.
He reaches for the merger documents, his fingers brushing against mine.
I hesitate, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through me.
His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I'm transported back to my teenage confession.
The café's afternoon crowd thins as we discuss details, our voices hushed but urgent.
Daniel's gaze remains professional, but there's a flicker of tension in his dark eyes when they meet mine.
"We need to focus," he says, his voice steady.
"I'll come to your apartment tomorrow morning."
I nod, knowing the company needs this focused planning session.
Daniel writes his address on a business card and slides it across the table.
His fingers brush against mine again as I take it.
I check my watch; it's already 4 PM.
"Nine o'clock," he says firmly, standing to leave.
I collect the merger documents and slide them into my portfolio while Daniel finishes his espresso.
The late afternoon sun streams through the café windows, casting long shadows across our table.
My fingers brush against the business card with his address as I tuck it into my wallet.
Standing up, I smooth my Chanel skirt and adjust my blazer.
Tomorrow's agenda runs through my mind.
Daniel holds the café door for me, his cologne briefly filling my senses as I pass.
I stand outside the café entrance, watching Daniel disappear into the evening crowd.
The merger documents feel heavy in my portfolio.
Reality sinks in as the cool breeze rustles my skirt.
Traffic moves steadily along the boulevard.
I pull out my phone - three missed calls from Father.
My finger hovers over the call back button, but I can't discuss more business right now.
Instead, I wave down a taxi and give the driver my address.
I settle into the leather seat, and as the taxi moves, I open my portfolio and spread the merger documents across my lap.
The passing streetlights illuminate the pages.
Ethan's terms are aggressive: 60% ownership and a complete restructuring of management.
My fingers trace Father's handwritten notes in the margins, detailing previous rejected offers.
The taxi hits a pothole, and some papers scatter.
Gathering them, a sticky note falls from between the pages.
I pick it up, recognizing Father's handwriting - private negotiations with Ethan last month.
I stare at the note, my heart pounding.
"Did you know about this?" I whisper to myself, but the driver overhears.
"Everything alright back there?" he asks, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.
"Fine, thank you," I reply, returning to the papers under the dim taxi light.
I scan each line, my eyes widening as I read Father's private negotiations with Ethan.
Each line reveals more details: proposed share distributions, management restructuring plans, and most alarming, a draft agreement initialed by Father.
My fingers trace his familiar signature.
He taught me how to analyze contracts when I was a teenager.
The taxi hits another bump, and a folded document falls from the stack.
I reach for it, smoothing out the creases on my lap.
Father's medical results are tucked between the merger papers.
The date catches my attention - weeks before Emma discovered his illness.
My phone buzzes, startling me, and I see Emma's name flashing on the screen.
"Have you seen the documents yet?" she asks urgently, her voice tinged with worry.
"Yes, and there's something you need to know about Father's involvement," I reply, my voice steady but filled with concern.
I pace my living room, the phone pressed to my ear.
The merger papers are spread across my coffee table.
The evening light fades outside my window as I recount my discovery.
Emma's voice trembles when she admits finding drafts of share transfer agreements in Father's private safe last week.
I sink onto my sofa, the documents crumpling under my hand.
"He had already agreed to sell 45% of company shares to Ethan before his diagnosis worsened," she confesses.
"Why didn't he tell us?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I think he wanted to protect us from the fallout," Emma replies, her tone heavy with sadness.
"But now we're left to pick up the pieces," I say, feeling the weight of our father's decisions settle over me.
I sit at my dining table, the crystal chandelier casting shadows on the formal invitations I'm writing.
The clock strikes 10 PM, but I'm determined to finish.
My hand shakes slightly as I address the envelopes to Father, Mother, and our closest relatives who hold company shares.
The heavy cream paper glows under the soft light.
I word each note carefully, avoiding any mention of Father's illness or the merger documents spread out beside me.
Once finished, I seal the envelopes with our family crest and text our driver to deliver them first thing tomorrow morning.