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MidReal Story
My Billionaire Boss
Scenario:this is in new york city about laws and lawyers and prosecutors and drama and fights and alcohol and drug use and abuse and lawsuits and threats and fraud and impersonating and illegal and mentor and friends and love and sex and nudity and office romance and my name is mohamed abdi and i am 24 years old and i have dark skin and i am a new prosecutor and i never went to law school i am a fraud and i could go to prison if people found out and snitched and i was hired on a law firm named winters and johnson and smith i got hired by damian johnson and he is 34 years old and he is and self obsessed and narcissistic, egotistical, and driven and he makes a point of depending on no one and getting his fulfilment from ambition, material success, and expression of his own worthand and damian found out i never went to law school and he hired me anyway because of my smarts and memory and he would mentor and protect me and his assistant emma richards is a know it all she thinks she knows about everything but she protects me and harvey and the other owners of this firm is jessica winters she is 40 years old and she is logans and damians boss and ceo of the firm and logan smith is a 38 years old evil ruthless prosecutor he loves making people sweat and prove he is the boss but damian is better than him in the court and he earns 1 million dollars when logan earns 900.000 dollars and i am extremely clever both in test-taking and the street-smart senses and i have Eidetic memory meaning i remember everything i have read or seen or heard and my parents layla and abdinur died in a car accident and the killed got scot free by the defence lawyer named oscar jones got him not guilty charge and i was raised by my grand father hassan abdi he has dark skin and he is 67 years old and i became attracted and in love with a para legal at the firm a asian woman named monica hoang and she is 25 years old and she has a belly button piercing and monica will move mountains for the sake of her career. Her hard-working mentality, however, rarely gives her time to relax. She is so caught up in what she is supposed to do that she rarely checks up on herself Personality driven and caring. monica puts her heart in everything she does, proving the impossible in many situations.and she will always manages to prove that she is limitless time and time again. and this story is named suits
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Mohamed Abdi
He is a prosecutor at Winters and Johnson. He is charismatic, confident, and ambitious. Mohamed never attended law school, but he has an exceptional memory and intelligence. He was raised by his grandfather after his parents died in a car accident. He was hired by Logan Smith and Jessica Winters despite not having a law degree. His selfreliance and quick thinking have earned him the respect of his colleagues, including his mentor Damian Johnson.
Abdinur
He is Mohamed's deceased father. He is successful, pragmatic, and supportive. Abdinur was a business owner and had a close relationship with his son Mohamed. His pragmatic nature helped Mohamed navigate through life after his passing. He played a significant role in shaping Mohamed's personality and ambitions.
Damian Johnson
He is a lawyer at Winters and Johnson. He is supportive, ambitious, and encouraging. Damian became Mohamed's mentor after hiring him despite his lack of a law degree. He recognized Mohamed's exceptional abilities and wanted to help him develop his career. Damian values Mohamed's talent and believes in his potential to become one of the best lawyers.
My name is Mohamed Abdi.
I am 24 years old.
I have dark skin.
And I am a prosecutor at Winters & Johnson, one of the biggest law firms in New York City.
I don’t have a law degree.
I never went to law school.
But I am a better lawyer than 99% of all lawyers in the United States.
I was hired by Logan Smith and Jessica Winters, CEO of Winters & Johnson, despite not having a law degree.
But nobody knows that.
They think I have a law degree from Harvard University, where I graduated at the top of my class.
They think I am one of the smartest lawyers they’ve ever met.
And they are right.
But it has nothing to do with my law degree, which I don’t have.
It has everything to do with my memory.
I have an Eidetic memory, also known as a photographic memory.
I remember everything I have read or seen or heard.
Everything.And that’s why I am a better lawyer than 99% of all lawyers in the United States.
My parents, Layla and Abdinur, died in a car accident when I was 10 years old.
The driver who killed them got scot free because his defence lawyer managed to convince the jury that it was Layla’s fault, not his client’s.
His name is Oscar Jones, and he is a bastard.
I spot Oscar Jones across the crowded hotel ballroom, his silver hair and expensive suit marking him as the same man I saw in the courtroom fourteen years ago.
My hands tremble as I pour myself a scotch at the open bar, watching him work the room with the ease of a seasoned politician.
The annual New York State Bar Association conference is in full swing, with lawyers and judges mingling and networking over drinks and appetizers.
But all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears.
I straighten my tie and cross the room, my eyes fixed on Oscar Jones.
I’ve rehearsed this moment a thousand times in my head, but nothing can prepare me for the rush of adrenaline that courses through my veins as I approach him.
"Mr. Jones," I say, extending my hand.
He turns, his practiced smile faltering for a moment as he takes in my appearance.
"Can I help you?" he asks, his voice smooth as silk.
"My name is Mohamed Abdi," I reply, meeting his gaze steadily.
"I’m Layla and Abdinur’s son."
His face drains of color, and for a moment, I think he might pass out.
"Layla and Abdinur’s son," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What do you want?"
"I know what you did," I say, my voice steady.
"I just want to talk," I say, guiding him toward a quiet corner of the ballroom.
He follows me reluctantly, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route.
We sit at a small table, away from the crowd but still within earshot of the ambient chatter.
My glass of scotch sits untouched in front of me, my hand still trembling as I clench it into a fist.
Oscar loosens his tie and takes a long drink from his own glass, his eyes never leaving mine.
I pull a folded newspaper clipping from my jacket pocket and spread it out on the table between us.
The headline screams at us: "Tragic Car Accident Claims Lives of Two Young Parents."
Oscar’s eyes flicker to the photograph of the mangled car, and I see beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
I lean forward, my voice low and steady.
"You owe them the truth."
