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MidReal Story
The Billionaire Fall Out Boy
Scenario:Mace Kenmore 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. Mace inherited immense wealth from his grandfather, shocking everyone. He was the heir to the only multi-Quadrillonaire family 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, Mace will get revenge on those who treated him badly. Will he succeed?
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Mace Kenmore
He is a former orphan who took on a wealthy family's name after inheriting their vast fortune. He is resilient,proud,and determined. Mace faced poverty and rejection but eventually became one of the wealthiest people in the world. His past labeled him a "failure" by those who wronged him,including his former girlfriend,Isabella,who left him for someone richer. Now,he has transformed into a powerful figure,seeking revenge on those who mistreated him while enjoying his new life of luxury.
Isabella
She is Mace's exgirlfriend who left him for someone with more financial resources. She is selfish,superficial,and ungrateful. Isabella initially dated Mace out of pity and later for the comfort of his presence while pursuing her own ambitions. When her plans fell through and Mace instead inherited a vast fortune,she turned on him,labeling him a "failure." Her betrayal and cold treatment helped shape Mace's determination to succeed and seek revenge.
Mr. Kenmore
He is Mace's adoptive father and a successful businessman within the Kenmore family enterprise. He is supportive,fair,and strategic. Mr. Kenmore played a crucial role in raising Mace and saw potential in him despite his rough start in life. His guidance helped shape Mace into the resilient person he became. After inheriting the family fortune with his wife,Mr. Kenmore continued to support Mace's ambitions and was proud to see him rise to power.
Mace Kenmore, a poor orphan who was once hopeless, finally found a family and a home.
But life had other plans for him.
His girlfriend left him for someone who could provide her with a better life, and she even called him a "failure."
Heartbroken and furious, Mace made a promise to himself:
He would not rest until those who had wronged him bowed at his feet.
Years later, he finally got his revenge.
When Isabella heard the news, she was shocked beyond words.
She immediately called Mace, but he didn't answer.
She tried calling again and again, until finally, he picked up.
"Mace, it's me, Isabella. I… I can't believe what happened. I just saw the news. It's all over the internet. You… you inherited the Kenmore family's fortune! Oh my God! I can't believe it! Mace, I'm so happy for you! I'm coming over right now to congratulate you."
Mace didn't speak for a moment.
Then he said in a cold tone:
"Isabella, why are you here?"
"Uh… I came to congratulate you? Mace, you're now one of the richest people in the world! Who would have guessed it? Certainly not me! Ha ha ha…"
Her voice trembled slightly.
"Come on, Mace. Don't be like this. I know I made a mistake before. I shouldn't have left you for Reginald. But I was young and stupid back then. I didn't know any better. But I'm glad that I didn't marry him! Can you imagine? Oh my God…"
Reginald was an even poorer guy than Mace.
He couldn't even afford to buy Isabella the gifts she wanted.
It was no wonder that Isabella dated Mace in the first place.
I sit in my new office, surrounded by mahogany and leather.
The setting sun casts long shadows across my desk, where a framed photo of my adoptive parents sits.
Their genuine smiles remind me of true family loyalty.
My phone screen glows with Isabella's name, her desperate voice still ringing in my ears.
Her words are full of fake cheer and transparent greed.
My finger hovers over the end call button as she rambles on about Reginald's shortcomings.
My jaw tightens as her voice grows more pleading.
The words form on my lips, cold and precise.
I lean back in my leather chair, watching her name flash on the screen for the tenth time today.
The city sprawls below, a tapestry of lights through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse office.
It's a far cry from the days when I could barely afford rent.
Her voice crackles through the speaker, honey-sweet and desperate.
She explains how Reginald deceived her about his wealth, how she's changed and now sees me differently.
I trace the edge of the silver photo frame, memories flooding back.
Her cruel words when she left, the heartbreak that fueled my rise.
My fingers tighten around the phone.
"Mace, please, just give me a chance to explain," Isabella's voice wavers, a hint of desperation seeping through.
"Explain what, Isabella?" I reply, my voice steady and unyielding.
"That you're only here now because I'm worth something to you?"
I end the call mid-sentence, her latest excuse about Reginald's deception still hanging in the air.
My fingers hover over the screen for a moment before I pull up my contacts.
Brian and Shawn's numbers are at the top of my recent calls list.
They were there with me through the worst times, sharing their last bites of food when I couldn't afford groceries.
I press Brian's number first, then add Shawn to make it a conference call.
As the phone rings, I rise from my chair and walk to the bar cart in the corner of my office.
I pour three glasses of the expensive scotch they always joked about tasting someday.
The line connects, and I hear Brian's voice first, followed by Shawn's excited greeting on the conference call.
I tell them to check their front doors, where my drivers are waiting with the luxury cars I sent for them.
They protest that it's a joke, but I assure them it's not.
I watch through my floor-to-ceiling windows as they find the cars and get in.
The city lights flicker below me like a thousand tiny stars.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" they ask, disbelief coloring their voices.
I smile, remembering the days when we shared a cheap bottle of liquor in our cramped apartment.
"I've got the scotch you've always wanted to taste," I tell them, holding up the glass of premium scotch.
They laugh, remembering those harder times without bitterness.
I hear the elevator chime and footsteps approaching my office.
Brian and Shawn burst in, their faces lit with excitement, still holding their new car keys.
They rush over to me, embracing me in a genuine display of friendship.
I guide them to the bar cart where the three crystal glasses of amber scotch await.
The city lights twinkle through the windows as we share stories of our humble beginnings - sleeping on floors, splitting dollar store meals.
Brian picks up his glass, amber liquid catching the light.
Shawn follows suit.
I stand between them, crystal glasses in hand.
The city lights stream through the windows, casting a golden glow.
The premium scotch flows smoothly as I pour, filling each glass with the amber liquid we once could only imagine tasting.
My hand grips the heavy crystal, remembering nights when we shared plastic cups of cheap whiskey.
Brian fidgets with his new car keys while Shawn runs his fingers along the polished bar cart.
I raise my glass, and they follow suit.
The scotch catches the light, a warm glow that reflects our journey.
Brian's eyes are misty as he recalls the night we shared our last pack of ramen.
Shawn quietly touches the leather chair he's sitting in, still processing the reality of our changed circumstances.
We clink glasses, and the sound echoes through my office.
The three of us sit in comfortable silence, sipping the premium scotch.
Brian breaks the silence, his voice filled with nostalgia.
"Remember when we used to dream about moments like this during our hardest times?"
I reach into my desk drawer and pull out the old, worn photo from the homeless shelter.
Shawn leans forward, eyes widening as he takes the photo from my hand.
"Is this... is this really us?" he asks, tracing the faded edges with his finger.
Brian chuckles softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "We look like kids who had no idea what was coming."
I sit at my mahogany desk, the scotch still in my hand.
Brian and Shawn are seated across from me.
My lawyer enters the room, carrying a thick leather portfolio.
He sets it on the desk and opens it, revealing a stack of documents.
Brian and Shawn lean forward, intrigued by the contents.
My lawyer begins to read from the documents, his voice steady and professional.
The room falls silent as he reads the numbers aloud: 200 quadrillion dollars.
Private islands in the Caribbean and Pacific.
A fleet of mega yachts.
Global real estate holdings.
As he finishes reading, Brian's eyes widen in disbelief.
He nearly spills his scotch on my desk.
Shawn grabs the property listings, his hands shaking slightly as he reads through the addresses: Paris, London, Dubai, New York City, Tokyo, Hong Kong, Los Angeles.
I lean back in my leather chair, watching their reactions.
My lawyer shuffles through the last pages of the portfolio, pausing for a moment before pulling out a separate document.
He smiles knowingly as he slides it across the desk.
Brian and Shawn's eyes widen as they read the words: "Purchase and complete renovation of Hope Haven, including new beds, modern kitchen facilities, and expanded community spaces."
The document outlines the plans for the shelter that took us in during our darkest days.
Brian grips his scotch glass tighter, his knuckles turning white.
Shawn wipes away a tear that rolls down his cheek.
I nod, feeling the weight of our past lift as we prepare to give others a future.
I nod slowly at his words while refilling our glasses with the amber scotch.
The weight of our shared past hangs in the air as Brian pulls out his phone, showing us a photo from five years ago - the three of us huddled on a thin mattress at Hope Haven, sharing a single blanket.
My lawyer quietly excuses himself, leaving the renovation plans spread across my mahogany desk.
I trace my finger over the shelter's blueprint, pausing at the dormitory section where we once slept.
I spread the Hope Haven blueprints across my mahogany desk while Shawn paces behind me, his excitement building.
He stops suddenly, car keys jingling in his hand.
"We should take these new vehicles on a road trip," he suggests, a grin spreading across his face.
Brian immediately pulls out his phone, searching for top-rated homeless shelters across the country.
I trace my finger along the Hope Haven floor plan, considering how seeing other shelters firsthand could improve our renovation.
The idea of a road trip with my two closest friends, combining luxury with our shared mission, feels right.
I lean back in my leather chair, watching Shawn's eyes linger on me as he speaks.
His fingers brush against mine while pointing at potential shelter locations on the map, sending a jolt through me that I hadn't expected.
Brian remains engrossed in his phone, researching the condition of shelters in various cities, oblivious to the charged air between Shawn and me.
When Shawn leans in, whispering against my ear about how this trip could change everything, his warm breath sends shivers down my spine.
I grip my scotch glass tighter, feeling the familiar comfort of our friendship suddenly charged with new possibilities.
I lean over my desk, Brian and Shawn flanking me, as we examine the news article he found about Mercy House.
The facility's roof is collapsing, their food supplies are depleted, and they're facing closure within weeks.
Brian's voice cracks as he reads aloud about families sleeping in their cars because the shelter's at capacity.
Shawn's hand rests on my shoulder while I make an immediate call to my lawyer, authorizing emergency funds to be wired to Mercy House.
The three of us book flights to Detroit for tomorrow morning, and I instruct my team to begin preparing for the renovation.
Shawn looks at me, his eyes filled with determination.
"We can't just stop at Mercy House," he says firmly.
Brian nods, his voice steady. "Let's make this road trip a mission to save as many shelters as we can."
I pull up a holographic display of the United States on my office wall, and Brian and Shawn gather around.
Red dots begin appearing as my AI assistant identifies shelters with critical needs - a condemned building in Chicago, overcrowding in Miami, failed heating in Boston.
Shawn's hand brushes mine as he points to Detroit's Mercy House, suggesting we start there.
Brian starts categorizing the shelters by urgency, creating spreadsheets on his tablet.
I zoom in on Chicago's shelter, studying its structural damage while calculating renovation costs.
I pull up detailed schematics of the building on my office's main screen, and Brian starts cataloging the damage from inspection reports.
The foundation has severe cracks, and the electrical system needs a complete overhaul.
Shawn leans in close, his shoulder pressing against mine as he points to the collapsing east wing where families still sleep.
I make rapid calls to my construction teams, authorizing emergency stabilization work to begin tonight.
While reviewing the Chicago shelter blueprints, my phone buzzes.
It's Marcus, my old engineering classmate from community college.
He heard about the shelter project through Brian's social media posts.
I put him on speaker as he explains that his structural engineering firm has worked on similar projects in the area.
Shawn's hand remains on my shoulder while Marcus details the building's likely issues based on its age and location.
He offers to inspect the site pro-bono tomorrow morning.
I catch Brian's approving nod - having Marcus on board will ensure we identify every critical repair needed to make the shelter safe.
I sit at my desk, reviewing Marcus's preliminary shelter assessment while Brian researches similar buildings in the area.
The detailed diagrams show dangerous stress fractures in the foundation that could collapse without immediate intervention.
Shawn stands behind my chair, his hand still resting on my shoulder as we examine the critical points Marcus highlighted in red.
My phone buzzes again, and I answer, putting Marcus on video call.
His familiar voice carries the same dedication I remember from our college days.
The severity in his tone confirms my fears about the shelter's stability.
I pull up the shelter's 3D model on my office's holographic display while we wait for Marcus to arrive.
Brian organizes the structural assessment data on his tablet, and Shawn paces nervously, glancing at the red warning indicators flashing across the foundation points.
When Marcus enters, his face is grim.
He pulls out a small bag containing physical samples of crumbling concrete from his inspection and places them on my desk.
The fragments tell a clear story - we have days, not weeks, to prevent a catastrophic collapse.
I take a deep breath, knowing the clock has started ticking.
I stand at my office window, phone pressed to my ear, as I demand an immediate city council meeting.
Marcus spreads the concrete samples across my desk, explaining the technical details to the council secretary on the line.
Brian pulls up evacuation statistics on his tablet, showing how many residents we'll need to relocate.
Shawn grips my shoulder tightly when the secretary tries to delay the meeting until next week.
I cut her off mid-sentence, stating that I'll personally cover all repair costs if they convene tonight.
The secretary hesitates, then agrees to arrange the meeting within the hour.
I lean over my desk, studying Marcus's photos of the shelter's failing foundation as I dial the head engineer on speakerphone.
Brian pulls up evacuation routes on his tablet, while Shawn marks critical support points on the holographic model.
The engineering team leader, Sarah Chen, answers on the first ring.
I describe the failing concrete samples and structural damage, authorizing her to mobilize all available crews tonight.
She confirms that steel beams and equipment are already en route.
I sit at my desk, reviewing Sarah's engineering report while Shawn stands behind my chair, his hand still resting on my shoulder.
The detailed diagrams of steel beam placements and support reinforcements fill the pages.
Brian remains focused across the room, his fingers flying over his tablet as he coordinates the relocation of shelter residents.
When Shawn leans down to whisper about the team's progress, his breath tickles my ear.
My heart skips a beat unexpectedly, and I grip the edge of my desk to steady myself.
"Do you think they'll actually show up tonight?" Shawn's voice is low, almost conspiratorial.
"They have to," I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "If they don't, we're risking lives."
Brian looks up from his tablet, his eyes meeting mine with a determined glint. "Then we make sure they understand what's at stake."
I grip my phone tightly, still studying the shelter's structural diagrams spread across my desk.
Brian hovers anxiously near the door, his tablet displaying evacuation routes and statistics.
Shawn's hand remains steady on my shoulder, a silent reassurance.
The mayor's office connects after two rings, and I take a deep breath before speaking.
"Mayor, it's Mace. We've confirmed that the shelter is at imminent risk of collapse."
I explain Marcus's findings of failing concrete samples and Sarah's emergency repair plans, emphasizing the urgency of immediate action.
There's a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, I wonder if we've been disconnected.
"Mace, I understand your concerns, but there are procedures—"
I cut him off, my voice growing colder with each word.
"Procedures won't matter when hundreds of lives are lost because we didn't act fast enough. Do you think the media will care about your bureaucratic processes when they're reporting on the tragedy?"
There's another pause, this time longer.
Finally, the mayor speaks again, his tone shifting from hesitation to determination.
"Alright, Mace. I'll mobilize the emergency services. But you need to understand that this is going to be a logistical nightmare."
I hang up with the Mayor and turn my attention to the window.
Outside, emergency vehicles are converging on the shelter, their lights flashing against the night sky.
Brian continues to monitor the evacuation progress on his tablet, while Shawn's hand remains steady on my shoulder.
The sound of heavy machinery fills the air as Sarah Chen's construction crew arrives with massive steel beams and equipment.
The rumble of their engines vibrates through the streets below.
I watch as they begin to unload their cargo, preparing for the long night ahead.
And then, just as I'm about to turn away from the window, I see him - the Mayor himself, arriving at the scene in a hard hat and flanked by news cameras.
He's trying to look good for the press now, even though he dragged his feet earlier.
I turn back to my team, knowing that tonight, we are the ones who will truly make a difference.
I lean over the holographic model of the shelter, its 3D structure hovering above my desk.
Sarah Chen stands across from me, her tablet in hand as she studies the design.
"See here, in the east wing?"
I point to the area where families and children are currently sleeping.
"That's where we need to start."
The holographic model pulses red, indicating areas of severe structural damage.
Sarah nods gravely, her eyes tracing the lines of failing support beams.
She marks critical points on her tablet, explaining how the failing concrete could trigger a cascade collapse.
Behind us, Brian updates the evacuation numbers in real-time, his voice steady and reassuring.
Shawn's hand remains firm on my shoulder, a silent source of strength.
Sarah turns to me, her expression serious.
"Based on these designs, I recommend starting with the west wing. We can install emergency supports there first."
I shake my head firmly, my eyes never leaving hers.
"No, we start with the east wing. That's where children are sleeping right now."
She nods quickly, revising her plan.
"Then we'll need to move fast. I'll dispatch my crew to install emergency supports beneath the residential floor first."
I stand at the edge of my desk, watching as Sarah's team coordinates through video feeds displayed on the walls of my office.
The east wing's structural diagram pulses with red warning indicators, while Brian's tablet displays the movement of residents to safer areas.
Shawn's hand remains steady on my shoulder as we watch Sarah's crew position the first steel support beam beneath the children's dormitory.
Through the command center microphone, I give the order to reinforce the load-bearing walls first, ensuring that the sleeping areas are secured before dawn.
Sarah's voice comes through the comms system, her words laced with urgency.
"Mace, we've found unexpected cracks in the foundation. We'll need additional equipment and materials, fast."
"Sarah, can we repurpose anything from the west wing to buy us more time?"
She hesitates, then nods. "Yes, but it'll leave that section vulnerable if the storm shifts."
Brian interjects, his voice calm but firm. "We can't risk it; prioritize the east wing and I'll work on rerouting resources."
I lean over the shelter's holographic display, directing Sarah through my earpiece.
She guides her construction team, positioning the first steel beam beneath the east wing's foundation.
The east wing's structural diagram pulses with urgent red warnings where families sleep above.
Brian reports thirty children still in the dormitory as evacuation buses arrive.
Through the live feed, I watch Sarah's crew weld support brackets into the crumbling foundation.
When she requests permission to clear the upper floor for safety, I authorize it immediately, knowing the welding sparks could endanger the children.
Sarah's voice crackles through the comms, a hint of relief in her tone.
"Mace, we've got the first beam secured. But there's something else you need to know."
I glance at Shawn, who raises an eyebrow, and respond with urgency.
"What is it, Sarah?"
She hesitates for a moment before speaking.
"We found a hidden chamber beneath the east wing. It's not on any of the original blueprints."
I lean forward, watching the live feed from Sarah's helmet camera as her team cautiously approaches the entrance to the hidden chamber.
The thermal imaging shows a space beyond the crumbling concrete that is unexpectedly warm.
Brian pulls up the original shelter blueprints on his tablet, and they confirm that this area was never documented.
Sarah's crew cuts through the final layer of foundation, revealing a narrow passage lined with old pipes.
I direct them to proceed with caution, sending in a structural assessment drone first to ensure it's safe to enter.
The drone's sensors detect concerning heat signatures deeper inside the passage.
I lean forward in my chair, studying the drone's thermal feed on the screen.
The heat signatures grow more intense as it moves deeper into the passage, suggesting there's active machinery or systems below.
Sarah's voice comes through the comms, her words filled with a mix of curiosity and caution.
"Mace, we're seeing pipes lining the walls that don't match the shelter's original infrastructure. They look industrial grade and much newer."
Brian pulls up city records on his tablet, searching for any permits that might explain this hidden chamber.
After a few tense moments, he shakes his head.
"No permits have been issued for any construction in this area. Whatever this is, it was done off the books."
Shawn's grip tightens on my shoulder as we watch the drone's camera feed reveal a heavy steel door at the end of the passage.
The door is adorned with faded warning symbols, indicating potential danger beyond.
I order Sarah to hold position while I reach for my phone to call a hazmat team.
Sarah's voice interrupts, urgency lacing her words. "Mace, we can't just wait here; the structural integrity is compromised."
I nod, understanding the risk. "Alright, Sarah, but proceed with extreme caution and keep the line open at all times."