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MidReal Story
My Mafia SoninLaw
Scenario:this story is in london england and a story a elite about private boarding school named crestwood academy an exclusive private boarding school with uniforms for 40 international students in crestwood academy with royal or famous or politician or criminal and rich past and present and where gambling in this boarding school dictates the social order and this story has profanity and nudity and sex and power struggle and structure and revenge and social inequality, and the psychological warfare and torture and life and death gambling and debt and slavery and racism and sexism and bullying and betting and social media and social hierarchy and loyalty and psychopathic and sociopathic behavior and sucide and abuse and lgbtqia and adultery and seduction and love and hebephilia and murder and drug and alcohol use and addiction and my name is mohamed abdi and i am 16 years old sophomore in crestwood academy and i am the bad boy and ruthless and crazy and psychopathic and sociopathic and violent and joker and powerful and skilled gambler and the social king and playboy with muscles and dark skin and leader of the school council and i rule the school with my iron fist and with fear and my parents are my father he is a 40 year old corrupt gangster and business man named abdinur abdi and he is nice with a cold heart and my mother layla abdi is a 39 years old brothel madam and she is ruthless and she always pressures me to be the best and hits me when i dont achieve the best and my little brother mahad abdi he is 15 years old and a freshman on crestwood academy and my mother and father loves him more than me
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Mohamed Abdi
He is a 16yearold student at Crestwood Academy, a prestigious boarding school in London. He is rebellious, cunning, and charismatic. Mohamed is the son of a corrupt gangster and brothel madam, Layla Abdi. He struggles with his parents' influence and their expectations for him to attend Harvard. He is involved in highstakes poker games with wealthy peers, often resulting in physical fights. Mohamed seeks attention and power, using his muscular build to intimidate others and maintain his status as the school's king.
Abdinur Abdi
He is Mohamed's 40yearold father and a corrupt gangster and businessman. He is ruthless, intelligent, and manipulative. Abdinur owns several hotels and resorts across Europe, maintaining a criminal empire. Despite his harsh exterior, he shows affection towards Mohamed by giving him expensive gifts. His lifestyle involves lavish entertainment and lavish spending, which influences Mohamed's perception of success and power. Abdinur often engages in highstakes poker games alongside his son.
Layla Abdi
She is Mohamed's 39yearold mother and a notorious brothel madam. She is ruthless, demanding, and manipulative. Layla often gambles with Mohamed's winnings and loses more than she wins. She pressures Mohamed to excel academically for her sake and creates tension by favoring his brother Mahad over him. Her corrupt lifestyle affects Mohamed's perception of authority and morality, while her constant need for money drives her to exploit Mohamed's winnings for her own interests.
I am Mohamed Abdi, a 16-year-old sophomore student at Crestwood Academy, an elite private boarding school in London, England.
Crestwood Academy is one of the best and most expensive schools in the world and has around 40 students from different countries and backgrounds.
Most of the students are from famous, rich, royal, or politician families, while some are from normal families but have genius minds.
Some of the students are even criminals or have a criminal background.
My parents are my father, Abdinur Abdi, a 40-year-old corrupt gangster and businessman, and my mother, Layla Abdi, a 39-year-old brothel madam.
They both love my little brother, Mahad Abdi, more than me.
Mahad is a 15-year-old freshman at Crestwood Academy.
My parents gave him all the attention and love they could give, while I was left with no love or attention from them.
I don't know why they hate me that much.
Maybe it's because I was born by accident.
My mother was supposed to have an abortion, but because of her Catholic beliefs, she decided to keep me.
I am not sure if my father is my real father because my mother had many affairs with different men while she was still with my father.
I am a bad boy and ruthless when it comes to gambling.
I am also crazy and a bit sociopathic and psychopathic.
I don't care about anyone or anything except myself.
In the student lounge, I sat at the head of the table with my council: Rose, Elliot, Mahad, Samuel, and Roxy.
We were playing poker.
I looked at Mahad as he nervously bet.
He was new to this game.
I looked at Roxy as she stared at Jake Sanders, who was sitting on the couch watching TV.
She didn't even notice that it was her turn to bet.
"Roxy," I called her name.
She looked at me with a smile.
"Your turn," I told her.
"Oh, sorry," she said and folded her cards.
I looked at Elliot as he raised the stakes and put his bet in the middle of the table.
He had painted nails like a girl and wore makeup too.
I smirked as I saw how Rose and Samuel were looking at him.
I put my bet in the middle of the table and waited for Mahad to do the same thing. "Mahad," I called his name again.
He looked at me with a nervous smile.
"Come on, man. You can't fold now," I said to him with a smirk.
"I-I am not folding," he stuttered as he put his bet in the middle of the table.
I smiled as I saw how nervous he was acting right now.
I looked around the room and saw that everyone was looking at us, so I decided to raise the stakes again to make things more interesting.
The game continued for about 30 minutes until it was time to show our cards.
Elliot showed his cards first, then Rose, Samuel, and finally Mahad showed his cards too.
I smiled as I saw that Mahad had won this round by chance, not by skill or experience.
I looked at Elliot as he shook hands with Mahad and congratulated him on his win. "Congratulations, man," Elliot said to Mahad with a smile.
"Thanks," Mahad replied with a smile too.
I looked around the room and saw that everyone was watching us closely, so I decided to start another round of poker to entertain them more. "Let's play another round," I said to my council members as I shuffled the cards and gave them each five cards to play with.
As the cards were dealt, I realized that in this room of secrets and lies, the only hand I truly held was my own.
I shuffle the deck methodically, the cards a blur of color and chance.
"Every loss drops you further down. Every win lifts you higher," I explain, my voice steady and confident.
My eyes lock onto Roxy, who's still stealing glances at Jake.
She's been losing lately, slipping from council member to barely holding onto her social status.
I deal the cards, watching her hands shake as she picks them up.
The other students crowd around, phones recording, eager to witness another fall from grace.
Roxy bets her last designer watch - a gift from daddy.
I smile, knowing my royal flush will cost her more than just the watch.
I spread my cards slowly across the green felt, savoring how Roxy's face crumbles as each card comes into view.
Ten, Jack, Queen, King, Ace - all hearts.
The watching crowd erupts in gasps and whispers as phones record Roxy's devastation.
I watch as the social ranking board updates, Roxy's name dropping further.
She turns to me, desperation in her eyes.
"You won, so what do you want from me?" she asks, her voice trembling.
"You know what I want," I reply, my voice steady and cold.
"Your virginity."
Roxy's eyes widen in shock.
"No," she pleads.
"I'm saving it for Jake."
I smirk.
"You owe me," I remind her.
"Your virginity or your other eye. You wouldn't become totally b##d, would you?"
Roxy shakes her head, tears forming in her eyes.
I watch as she nods reluctantly.
"Fine, after the game," she says quietly.
I nod, and we continue the game.
The tension is palpable as I deal the cards again.
Roxy's hands shake as she picks up her cards, her eyes darting to Jake and then back to me.
The other students whisper and glance at us, sensing the shift in power dynamics.
I keep my eyes on Roxy, watching her every move.
She places a small bet, trying to regain some control.
But I know better.
I raise the stakes, pushing her further into a corner.
She hesitates, then folds, her face pale.
I lead her to my dorm room, the walls lined with stacks of cash from my numerous victories.
Roxy hesitates at the door, her eyes scanning the room - the king-size bed, the large TV, and the piles of money.
"Remember our deal," I remind her, my voice firm.
She nods reluctantly and steps inside.
I close the door behind us, locking it.
Roxy sits on the edge of the bed, her eyes fixed on the floor.
I count out 13 million pounds and place it on the table.
"Take off your clothes," I tell her.
She slowly undresses, her movements mechanical.
I watch as she lies down on the bed, her eyes closed tightly.
I join her, and we have s#x.
Her movements are stiff and emotionless, a far cry from the passion she once shared with Jake.
After we're done, I tell her she's free to leave - her debt is settled.
Roxy dresses silently, her eyes hollow, and walks out without looking back.
The door clicks shut behind her, and I'm left alone in my dorm room.
The stacks of cash on my table no longer seem appealing.
I replay the encounter in my mind, Roxy's stiff movements and empty eyes haunting me.
I stand up and pace the room, feeling a tightness in my chest.
The power I wield at Crestwood Academy suddenly feels like a burden.
I grab a bottle of whiskey from my shelf and take a long drink, trying to drown out the guilt.
I slump back into my chair, staring at the door.
I sit in the student lounge, smoking a cigarette and staring out the window.
The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the campus.
Mahad walks in and approaches me.
"Juliet challenged me to a game of blackjack," he says, his voice filled with excitement.
I turn to him, my eyes narrowing.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" "I need to win," he replies, his determination evident.
"I'll take your place," I offer, knowing I have a better chance of winning.
Mahad shakes his head.
"No, I need to do this myself."
I sigh, stubbing out my cigarette.
"Fine, but you have to win. If you lose, you'll be in serious trouble."
Mahad nods, his jaw set.
"I know. Let's go."
We walk out of the lounge and head towards the game area.
Students are already gathered there, their faces filled with curiosity and anticipation.
Juliet spots us approaching and smirks, "Ready to lose, Mahad?"
Mahad squares his shoulders, trying to mask his nerves, "Not today, Juliet."
I lean in and whisper to him, "Remember what I taught you; stay focused."
I lean against the wall, watching Mahad deal the cards with a composure I didn't know he possessed.
The crowd of students presses in closer, their phones raised to record every move.
Juliet sits across from him, her manicured nails tapping impatiently on the felt table.
The first two hands go quickly - Mahad busts twice, losing a thousand pounds each time.
But he doesn't flinch, his hand moving over the deck with a steady rhythm that surprises me.
Juliet smirks at his losses, but Mahad keeps his eyes fixed on the cards, ignoring her.
When she pushes her entire stack of chips forward, my stomach tightens.
Mahad pauses for a moment, his hand hovering over the deck before dealing out the next round with mechanical precision.
The room falls silent as Mahad flips his final card, revealing a perfect twenty-one.
I watch in horror as Juliet smiles, a slow, predatory smile that makes my blood run cold.
She reveals her hidden card - an ace of spades, giving her a perfect blackjack.
The cheers and chants for Mahad turn to gasps and whispers.
His face drains of color as he stares at the winning hand in front of him.
The massive display screen above us flickers, updating the rankings with a harsh electronic chime.
Mahad's name drops to zero, his ranking plummeting to the very bottom.
Juliet leans forward, her manicured nails scraping against the felt as she collects her winnings.
"I want you as my slave," she purrs, her eyes glinting with triumph.
Mahad's shoulders slump in defeat as the crowd begins to record his humiliation on their phones.
I grip the edge of my chair, my knuckles white with tension.
The students continue to record Mahad as he serves Juliet drinks, his face flushed with shame.
Their whispers and snickers echo in the room, each one a painful reminder of his failure.
I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms.
I should have played against Juliet instead of Mahad.
But I let my guard down, and now I'm paying the price.
Mahad approaches me, his eyes filled with desperation.
"Please, help me," he begs.
"I need to win back my money and my ranking."
I look at him coldly, my voice dripping with disdain.
"You made your bed, Mahad. Now you have to lie in it. If I help you, it will show weakness."
I spot the new girl from New York, Rachel Newton, in the school courtyard.
She's wearing the same uniform as everyone else, but her blue lip gloss catches my eye.
Her black hair is pulled back into a ponytail, revealing her heart-shaped face and piercing blue eyes.
I walk up to her with a confident stride, my hands tucked into my pockets.
"Hello, I'm Mohamed Abdi," I introduce myself.
She looks up at me, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in my height and build.
"I'm Rachel," she replies softly.
I give her a charming smile, knowing that she doesn't know who I am yet.
She's new here and hasn't heard about my reputation as the king of Crestwood Academy.
The other guys watch us from afar, their faces filled with envy and fear.
They know better than to approach me or try to take what's mine. "So, what brings you to Crestwood?"
I ask Rachel casually.
She shrugs, her eyes darting around the courtyard nervously.
"Just another school," she replies quietly.
I nod sympathetically, "Yeah, it can be tough starting over."
She gives me a small smile, "Thanks for understanding."
I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper, "So, do you have any hobbies?"
Rachel looks at me curiously, "What kind of hobbies?"
I grin mischievously, "You know, like playing games."
Her eyes widen slightly, and I can tell she's intrigued.
"Maybe," she replies coyly.
I chuckle lowly, "Well, if you ever want to play a game with me, just let me know."
Her eyes meet mine, and I know I've found my next challenge.
I lead Rachel through the crowded hallways to the student lounge, my hand resting possessively on her lower back.
The other students part before us, their phones already recording our every move.
Inside the lounge, my council members are seated around the poker table, each one in their usual spot.
They all turn to look at me as I enter with Rachel, their eyes filled with curiosity.
"Take a seat," I tell her, pulling out the chair beside mine.
The leather seat creaks softly as she sits down, her fingers drumming nervously on the green felt.
I take my time retrieving my personal deck from its silver case and shuffling it with precise movements.
Elliot smirks knowingly at me from across the table, his eyes flicking between Rachel and me.
"What's the buy-in?" Rachel asks, her voice steady despite the tension in the room.
I glance at Elliot before replying, "For you, it's just your trust."
Rachel raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, "And what do I get if I win?"
I lean back in my chair, keeping my expression neutral, "Whatever you want."
The social ranking board above us flickers to life, displaying Rachel's newly added profile alongside her current status.
The other students crowd around our table, their phones raised to record every moment.
I catch Elliot's knowing smirk and Mahad's concerned glance before focusing on the game.
I deal the cards with a flourish, my movements precise and calculated.
Rachel studies her hand intently, her brow furrowed in concentration.
The stakes are high, but I know she'll take the bait.
I make a show of studying my own hand, then place a small bet.
Rachel hesitates for a moment before matching it, her eyes never leaving mine.
The game continues, each round escalating the tension in the room.
Elliot leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches with a knowing glint in his eye.
Mahad shifts uncomfortably beside him, his eyes darting between Rachel and me.
I slow-play my hand deliberately, letting Rachel gain confidence with each small win.
The crowd whispers among themselves, placing side bets on the outcome of the game.
When Rachel goes all-in with a confident smile, I pause for dramatic effect before revealing my cards one by one.
Rachel's smile falters as I lay down a royal flush, and the room erupts in stunned silence.
I notice her hand contains a straight flush, a winning combination that would have beaten my cards.
But the crowd is too focused on Elliot's dramatics as he spills his drink in shock to notice.
I smoothly reach across the green felt table, my fingers brushing against Rachel's cards as I pretend to help clean up the spill.
In one swift motion, I exchange her winning hand with the losing one I prepared earlier, palming it into my sleeve.
When Rachel returns to her seat, she finds a different hand waiting for her.
Her face drops as she stares at the worthless combination of cards in front of her.
The spectators press closer, their phones capturing every moment of her devastation.
I maintain my neutral expression, but inside, I savor the perfection of my sleight of hand.
Rachel's voice is barely a whisper, "Did you... did you switch my cards?"
I meet her gaze steadily, my voice calm and unyielding, "Why would I need to do that when I already had the winning hand?"
Elliot leans forward, his eyes glinting with mischief, "Maybe because the king never plays fair."
I stack my winnings methodically, the clinking of the poker chips echoing through the room.
Rachel watches me, her shoulders slumped in defeat, her eyes fixed on the table.
The digital ranking board above us flickers to life once more, and a harsh electronic chime fills the air.
Rachel's status drops fifteen places, and her name is replaced by another student's.
The crowd lingers for a moment longer, recording every detail of Rachel's humiliation.
I continue arranging my winnings into neat columns, not bothering to look up.
"Friday night," I tell her, my voice firm and commanding.
"Wear something expensive."
Rachel's fingers clench around her empty wallet, but she forces a tight smile onto her face.
"Whatever you want, Mohamed," she replies, her voice strained.
I slide one chip across the table to her, its ceramic surface glinting under the lights.
"Buy yourself something pretty for our date," I say, my voice dripping with condescension.
She snatches the chip, her chair scraping against the floor as she stands abruptly.
The crowd parts for her, their phones still trained on her as she makes her way out of the student lounge.
Her heels click against the tile floor, echoing through the room as she exits.
The chair she vacated rocks gently back and forth on the floor, a testament to her dramatic departure.
Elliot reaches over and picks up the chip I'd given Rachel, tossing it back onto my growing pile with a knowing laugh.
I continue shuffling my cards methodically, letting the whispers and snickers fill the room.
Through the glass walls of the student lounge, I watch as Rachel crosses the courtyard, her shoulders tight with humiliation.
She disappears into the girls' dormitory, and I deal another round to my waiting council.
The game is over, but the real match has just begun.
I lean back in my leather chair, the soft cushion conforming to my frame as I survey the aftermath.
Students continue filming with their phones, capturing every moment of Rachel's defeat.
The digital ranking board mounted on the wall above us catches my eye as it updates once more with a soft chime.
My name, "Mohamed Abdi," rises to the number one position, the golden letters glowing against the black background.
The other names shift around me, reflecting the new hierarchy.
Rachel's name drops several places, her ranking slipping further down the list.
Roxy's name remains near the bottom, a constant reminder of her place in our world.
And Mahad's name hovers somewhere in the middle ranks, his position steady but unremarkable.
I tap my cards against the green felt table, already planning my next move to maintain this position.
I sit across from Rachel at the upscale restaurant, savoring the gourmet meal in front of me.
The waiter has just cleared our plates, and we're waiting for dessert to arrive.
Rachel smiles at me, her eyes sparkling in the soft light of the restaurant.
"So, did you cheat to get this date?"
I grin back at her, "Maybe."
She leans in closer, her voice taking on a flirtatious tone, "You know I would have done the same if I were you. You're kind of beautiful."
I laugh, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Well, thank you for the compliment."
We continue talking and laughing as we finish our dessert.
As we leave the restaurant, I reach for her hand and she doesn't hesitate to take mine.
Rachel pauses at the entrance, her eyes scanning the bustling street before us.
"Do you ever wonder if this game is worth it?" she asks softly, her voice barely audible over the city noise.
I squeeze her hand gently, my tone contemplative, "Every day, but it's the only way to stay on top in our world."
After dinner, Rachel and I walk through the dimly lit streets near the restaurant.
The city is alive with neon lights and the distant hum of traffic.
We stroll hand in hand, the cool night air carrying the scent of exotic spices from nearby food vendors.
Rachel leads me down a narrow alleyway, away from the main street.
The sounds of the city fade into the background as we find ourselves in a secluded spot.
She stops abruptly, turning to face me.
Her eyes sparkle under the faint streetlight, and her designer perfume fills the air between us.
My heart quickens as she presses herself against me, her breath warm on my neck.
I can feel her pulse racing in sync with mine, our bodies almost touching.
I walk Rachel back to Crestwood Academy, the night air still charged with the tension of our interrupted date.
We cross the dimly lit courtyard, passing by the imposing stone buildings that house the dormitories.
The sound of our footsteps echoes off the walls as we make our way to the girls' dorm entrance.
Rachel glances up at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "That cop was so pissed when he saw us."
I chuckle, my voice low, "I guess I'm not used to being told what to do."
She playfully smudges her blue lip gloss against my lips, leaving a faint mark behind.
"Guess I left my mark on you."
We reach the entrance, and she turns to face me.
With a quick smile, she pulls out a pen from her purse and scribbles something on my hand.
"My number," she says, tucking the pen back into her purse.
"Call me tomorrow?"
I nod, watching as she turns and disappears into the building.
The heavy wooden door closes behind her with a soft thud, leaving me standing alone in the quiet courtyard.
I glance down at my hand, where she's written her phone number in bold black ink. I make my way to the boys' dormitory, located in a separate building across the courtyard.
The hallways are dark and quiet as I walk towards my room.
My footsteps echo off the walls, punctuated by the occasional creak of old wooden floorboards beneath my feet.
I unlock my door and step inside, flipping on the light switch to illuminate the spacious room.
It's larger than most dorm rooms at Crestwood Academy, a privilege reserved for members of The Council.
My bed sits against one wall, covered in crisp white sheets and adorned with plush pillows.
Across from it stands a large wooden desk cluttered with textbooks and notes from classes I've barely attended this semester.
A small safe sits on top of a dresser in the corner of the room, its metal exterior gleaming under the fluorescent light overhead. I walk over to the safe and dial in my combination, listening as it clicks open with a satisfying sound.
Inside lies a stack of cash - 4 million pounds and dollars combined - alongside a few precious jewels that I've managed to collect over time.
I run my fingers through the crisp bills, feeling their weight against my fingertips before closing the safe once more. Returning to my desk, I take out a pack of cigarettes and light one up, inhaling deeply as I lean back in my chair.
The smoke curls upwards, and as I exhale, I realize the stakes have never been higher.
I sprawl on my leather couch, cigarette in one hand and phone in the other.
The blue glow from my screen illuminates the stacks of cash and betting slips scattered across my coffee table.
My thumb hovers over the chat window, watching as the "delivered" status confirms she's received my message.
But there's no typing indicator, no response from Rachel.
I wait for five minutes, then grab another cigarette and pace the room, glancing at my phone every few steps.
The silence from her end starts to irritate me.
I grip the phone tighter, remembering how she melted against me in that alley.
Did I miscalculate her?