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MidReal Story
My Billionaire Stepdad
Scenario:this story is about business and betrayal and schemes and theft and fights and lawsuits and charity and lies and sex and nudity and adultery and bdsm and power and government and politics and my name is mohamed abdi i am a car brand owner and car company owner and my companys name is revolt and i am 24 years old and i am muscular and i have tattoos and dark skin and i became the richest man on the planet by inventing cars that drives on water and the car name brand is Revolt Motors and the cars runs on water and can drive for long hours and then be filled with water in the fuel tank and my father abdinur abdi he is 49 years old and he has dark skin and my mother layla abdi she has dark skin and my sister munira abdi is 18 years old and she has dark skin and my brother mahad abdi is 23 years old and he has dark skin and my parents didnt think i would be successful at anything but i proved them wrong and i now have 600 billion dollars in my bank account and the money is growing fast and my rival is the electric car tech ceo tesla billionaire man named elon musk and he is 53 years old with 7 kids with weird names and a wife and he has 400 billions and i see him as my enemy
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Mohamed Abdi
He is the owner of Revolt Motors,a revolutionary car company that invented cars driving on water. He is ambitious,determined,and rebellious. Born to a poor family,he defied his parents' skepticism to achieve success. His 600 billion dollars make him the richest man on the planet. He has a tumultuous relationship with his family,especially his rival brother Mahad. He is fixated on defeating Elon Musk,his archenemy in the business world.
Abdinur Abdi
He is Mohamed Abdi's father and a former mechanic in a small garage. He is skeptical,traditional,and stubborn. Despite doubting Mohamed's capabilities as a child,he eventually acknowledges his son's incredible success. Abdinur struggles with the idea of his son being wealthier than him and grapples with his own feelings of pride and failure. He is married to Layla Abdi and has two children,Munira and Mahad.
Elon Musk
He is the owner of Tesla,an electric car company competing with Revolt Motors. He is ambitious,ruthless,and intelligent. Known for his innovative ideas but harsh business practices,Elon Musk views Mohamed Abdi as a threat and attempts to sabotage his efforts through underhanded means. His notoriety stems from controversies like firing employees publicly and pushing for Mars colonization while neglecting Earthly concerns.
My name is Mohamed Abdi.
I am the owner of Revolt, a car brand and company.
I am 24 years old.
I have dark skin and tattoos.
I am muscular.
I have been working out since I was a kid, but I never thought that I would be successful at anything.
My parents thought so too, and that’s why they didn’t bother sending me to school.
Instead, I worked at my father’s small garage as a mechanic apprentice.
I didn’t like being stuck there, but I had no choice.
I always dreamed of being more—of achieving something big.
One day, I came up with an idea that would change my life forever: cars that drive on water.
I presented my idea to my brother, who laughed in my face and told me I was crazy.
He even called me an idiot for thinking that something like that could ever be invented.
My parents also doubted me, but they didn’t come out and say it like my brother did.
They just stayed silent and acted like they didn’t care about my idea.
It didn’t matter if they believed in me or not, because I was determined to make it happen.
After months of researching and experimenting, I finally succeeded in creating the first car that drives on water.
It was only a prototype, but it worked!
I step out of the elevator onto the 87th floor of Revolt Motors' Manhattan headquarters.
The sound of my footsteps echoes across the Italian marble, and I take a moment to admire the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Below me lies the sprawling city, where hundreds of my water-powered vehicles navigate the gridlocked streets.
As I make my way to my office, my assistant rushes over with a tablet in hand.
"Mr. Abdi, we just received the latest sales data from our newest dealership in Tokyo," she says, her voice filled with excitement.
I take the tablet from her and begin scrolling through the numbers.
The figures are impressive, and I can't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment.
Just as I'm about to respond, a notification pops up on the screen.
"Revolt's Beijing factory has successfully doubled its production capacity," it reads.
I nod in approval and continue walking to my private office.
As I pass by a wall of digital screens, I catch a glimpse of live feeds from various Revolt facilities across six continents.
It's a reminder of just how far we've come since those early days in my father's garage. Once inside my office, I press a button on my desk, and the windows behind me darken, providing complete privacy.
I take a seat at my desk and begin reviewing expansion plans for our Dubai location.
Suddenly, an email notification catches my eye.
It's from the office of Elon Musk, requesting a meeting to discuss a potential partnership between Tesla and Revolt.
I lean back in my chair, a mix of emotions swirling inside me.
Memories of that day six years ago flood my mind.
I was standing in the heart of Tesla's New York headquarters, surrounded by twenty board members in their expensive suits.
Elon Musk himself sat at the head of the table, his eyes fixed on me with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.
I had been invited to present my revolutionary water-fuel prototype, hoping to secure an investment that would change the course of my life forever.
As I began my presentation, I could feel the weight of their expectations.
I showed them sketches of my design, explaining how it harnessed the power of water to propel vehicles forward without any emissions.
But as I spoke, I noticed a change in their demeanor.
Their expressions shifted from intrigue to amusement, and soon they were laughing openly at me. "A high school graduate with a magic water car," one of them mocked.
Musk himself smirked, his voice dripping with condescension as he asked, "How do you expect us to take you seriously?"
I felt my face burning with humiliation as they dismissed my idea without even giving it a chance.
The meeting ended abruptly, and I left the building feeling defeated and demoralized.
But that moment sparked something within me—a determination to prove them wrong and make my vision a reality.
And now, six years later, here I am—owner of Revolt Motors, a company that has revolutionized the automotive industry with its water-powered technology.
As I sit at my desk, staring at the email from Elon Musk's office, I can't help but smile wryly at the irony of it all.
They want to partner with me now?
After they laughed at my idea and dismissed me as a fool?
I hover my fingers over the keyboard for a moment before typing out a single word: "No."
Just then, my phone buzzes with a call from my brother.
"Hey Mohamed, I heard about the email from Musk," he says, his voice a mix of disbelief and admiration.
"Yeah, can you believe it?" I reply, chuckling softly. "The same people who laughed at me now want to join forces."
"Guess they didn't see your genius coming," he quips.
I lean back in my leather chair, watching the live feed of Tesla's stock plummeting on CNBC.
My phone buzzes with notifications—another viral video shows angry Tesla owners spray-painting their cars outside Musk's Austin headquarters.
The reporter interviews a man dumping his Model S for a new Revolt R7.
"I'm done with gas-guzzlers," he says, gesturing towards his sleek, water-powered vehicle.
"Revolt's water-tank technology accepts any type of water—tap, rain, or even sea water. It's the future."
There's a knock on the door, and my assistant enters with today's sales report.
"Revolt dealerships in 157 countries have waiting lists stretching months," she informs me.
I pull up our stock performance on my screen—we're up 43% this week alone.
I turn back to the live news feed, where they're showing footage of Tesla cars being vandalized in cities across the U.S.
The sound of breaking glass and angry chants fills the room.
My rejection of Musk's partnership offer plays on a loop in my mind.
I check our stock prices again—up another 3%.
I click through images of protesters burning Tesla cars while people line up outside Revolt showrooms.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call from Mahad.
"Hey brother," I answer, a smug grin spreading across my face.
"Tesla's stock is plummeting," he says, his voice filled with excitement.
"Guess they should've partnered with me when they had the chance."
Mahad laughs, but his tone quickly turns serious.
"You think they'll try to sabotage you?"
"Nah, they're just mad their electric cars can't compete with water power," I reply, rolling my eyes.
Mahad chuckles again, but this time there's a hint of concern in his voice.
"Be careful, Mohamed. You know how ruthless those corporate guys can be."
"Don't worry about me," I assure him.
"I've got everything under control."
We chat for a few more minutes before Mahad hangs up, still sounding a bit worried.
I lean back, contemplating Mahad's warning, when my assistant knocks and enters again.
"Mr. Abdi, there's a man here to see you," she says cautiously.
"He claims he's from Tesla and insists it's urgent."
I stand as my office door opens, and Elon Musk's tall figure fills the frame.
He's followed by a younger man who looks like an assistant.
Musk's usual smirk is gone, replaced by dark circles under his eyes and wrinkled clothes.
He looks nothing like the polished version I see on CNBC.
Without waiting for an invitation, he drops into one of my leather chairs.
The assistant hovers nervously by the door.
Behind us, the Manhattan skyline stretches out through floor-to-ceiling windows.
I remain standing, hands clasped behind my back.
Six years ago, this man mocked me in front of his board members.
Now, he's in my office, begging for a partnership.
"Mr. Abdi," he says, his voice strained.
"I'm here to discuss a partnership between Tesla and Revolt."
I cross my arms, watching him squirm.
The memory of that day at Tesla six years ago echoes in my mind.
Their laughter still rings in my ears.
I shake my head.
"No partnership."
Musk's face twists in frustration, but he remains silent.
Mahad's warning about sabotage lingers in my thoughts.
I turn back to my computer screen, where Tesla's stocks continue to plummet.
Revolt Motors' sales are through the roof.
The sound of breaking glass and angry chants fills the room as I watch footage of Tesla cars being vandalized on live news.
Musk stands, defeated, and leaves without a word.
I watch him go, knowing the future belongs to those who dared to dream beyond the impossible.
I pick up my phone and dial Mahad's number.
I can't wait to tell him about Musk's visit.
The call connects after three rings.
"You won't believe who just left my office," I say, leaning back in my leather chair.
Through the glass walls, I watch my employees rushing about with purpose.
Mahad's response is cold, almost hostile.
"Who?"
"Musk," I reply, a hint of amusement in my voice.
"He was begging for a partnership."
I describe Musk's disheveled appearance and desperate plea for partnership.
As I speak, I can hear Mahad's breathing getting heavier on the other end of the line.
His tone shifts from curiosity to disbelief.
"Did you agree?"
Mahad asks sharply.
"No way," I respond, chuckling softly.
"I told him no. And then I watched as Tesla's stocks continued to plummet."
I pause, glancing at my screen where our stock prices are displayed.
"Revolt's stock has doubled since this morning," I add, a smug grin spreading across my face.
But before I can continue, Mahad cuts me off mid-sentence.
"I have to go," he says sharply, his voice filled with urgency.
I pull the phone away from my ear, confused.
"What? Where are you going?"
But before I can get an answer, he hangs up.
I sit back in my chair, staring at the phone in my hand.
Why would Mahad hang up on me like that?
We were in the middle of a conversation.
I try calling him back, but it goes straight to voicemail.
I set my phone down and lean back in my chair, watching the sun set behind the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
My secretary buzzes into the intercom.
"Mr. Abdi, it's 6 PM," she says softly.
"Remember, you're supposed to be at your brother's house for dinner."
I groan, running a hand through my hair.
I had forgotten all about it.
Mahad and his wife Chloe just had a baby three weeks ago, and this is the first time I've been invited over since she was born.
The thought of seeing my brother's white wife holding their newborn daughter makes me uncomfortable. I haven't been to their brownstone in months, not since their last fight over her racist parents.
I straighten my tie and grab my keys from the desk drawer.
As I head for the door, my phone buzzes with a text from Mahad.
"Don't come," it reads tersely. "Something's come up."
I frown, typing back quickly, "Is everything okay?"
I pace back and forth in my office, staring at the screen.
The city lights flicker outside as the sun dips below the horizon.
My phone buzzes again - it's Mahad calling this time.
I answer, expecting him to sound upset or angry like he did earlier.
But instead, his voice is cheerful and excited.
"Hey, man," he says, sounding like his old self again.
"I'm so sorry about earlier. I was just stressed out."
I can hear the sound of a baby crying in the background.
"Is everything okay?"
I ask again, feeling a little confused by his sudden mood change.
"Yeah, everything's fine," he replies quickly.
"Actually, something amazing just happened. Our daughter just smiled for the first time."
He pauses, taking a deep breath.
"I want you to come over and meet her. Chloe would love to see you too."
I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say.
Something doesn't feel right about this sudden change in Mahad's behavior.
But then again, maybe he really is just excited about his daughter's first smile. "Okay," I say finally, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"I'll be there soon."
I hang up the phone and grab my jacket from the hook on the wall.
As I head for the door, my security chief walks in with a serious look on his face.
"Mr. Abdi," he says, holding up a tablet with a report on it.
"We've had some unusual activity at your brother's house tonight."
I frown, taking the tablet from him and scanning the report quickly.
"What kind of activity?" I ask, my voice tense with concern.
"Several unmarked vans have been parked nearby, and our surveillance picked up some suspicious communications," he replies.
I feel a chill run down my spine as I look back at him. "Do you think Mahad's in danger?"