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MidReal Story
The Billionaire Fall
Scenario:Mace Kenmore has led a hard broke life, a poor orphan, and his girlfriend is leaving him for a more 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 judgement from those around him. He vowed that those who had labelled 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 previously impoverished orphan who took on the responsibilities of his grandfather's vast wealth after his grandmother's passing. He is determined, resilient, and proud. Mace faced immense financial struggles and social isolation due to limited resources but held onto hope and ambition. His life changed dramatically when he inherited his grandfather's fortune, becoming one of the wealthiest individuals in the world. Despite criticism and past relationships, Mace remains steadfast in achieving his goals and exacting revenge on those who wronged him.
Cass
She is Mace's former girlfriend involved in a tumultuous relationship with him. She is materialistic, critical, and manipulative. Cass left Mace for a more affluent partner, reflecting her focus on status and wealth over personal relationships. Her past actions haunt Mace, driving his determination to succeed and seek revenge by investing in businesses that undercut her family's operations. Cass's abandonment serves as a catalyst for Mace's transformation from being perceived as a failure to achieving success and power.
Grandfather
He was a wealthy philanthropist who played a significant influence on Mace's life. He is supportive, wise, and protective. Grandfather hid his wealth from Mace initially to teach him patience and perseverance, revealing it only after Mace's marriage. His legacy includes leaving behind Quadrillons of wealth, which significantly impacts Mace after his passing. Grandfather's actions and values are pivotal in shaping Mace's worldview and driving his quest for success and recognition.
I was a poor orphan, and my girlfriend left me for a richer guy.
I had been struggling to make ends meet, working multiple jobs just to survive.
But little did they all know, my life was about to change.
My grandfather was one of the richest men in the world, and he had left all his wealth to me.
I became one of the richest men overnight.
Those who had looked down on me and called me a failure would soon be bowing down at my feet.
I was going to get my revenge, and I was going to make it sweet.
The sun was setting over the small town I had lived in all my life.
It was a beautiful sight, but it didn’t lift the heavy feeling in my chest.
Cass, my girlfriend, had just left me, and I knew I would never see her again.
She had found someone who could provide her with a better life, someone who had more money than I did.
It wasn’t like I was surprised, but it still hurt.
I thought our love was stronger than that.
But I guess I was wrong.
As I sat on the edge of my bed, staring out the window at the sunset, I heard a knock at the door.
I got up and walked over to open it.
On the other side was Isabel, my fiancée.
"Hey, can I come in?"
Isabel asked, her voice shaking.
I stepped aside and let her in, closing the door behind her.
My apartment was small and cramped, but it was all I could afford.
The only light came from a bedside lamp, casting long shadows across the room.
Isabel’s eyes were red and puffy from crying, and she clutched an envelope in her trembling hands.
She paced back and forth across the carpet, her footsteps echoing off the walls.
I leaned against the door and watched her, trying to figure out what was wrong.
After a few minutes of silence, Isabel finally spoke.
"Mace," she said, her voice cracking.
"I have something to tell you."
I nodded, encouraging her to continue.
She took a deep breath before speaking again.
"My father’s business is failing. He’s been struggling for months now, but things have gotten really bad. The bank is threatening to take our house if he can’t pay them back by the end of the month."
My heart sank as I listened to her words.
I knew how much that house meant to her family, and I couldn’t imagine what they were going through right now. "What are you going to do?"
I asked, trying to stay calm.
Isabel shook her head sadly.
"I don’t know. My father has tried everything he can think of, but nothing seems to be working. We’re running out of time."
I walked over to where she was standing and put my arms around her.
She buried her face in my chest and began to sob uncontrollably.
I held her tightly, trying to comfort her as best I could.
After a few minutes, she finally calmed down enough to speak again.
"I’m so sorry," she said, looking up at me with tears in her eyes.
"I feel like I’ve let everyone down."
"You haven’t done anything wrong," I reassured her gently.
"These things happen sometimes. We’ll get through this together."
She nodded slowly, taking a deep breath as she tried to regain control of herself.
"I know," she said softly.
"But it’s hard not to feel guilty when everything seems to be falling apart around us."
I pulled away from her slightly so that I could look into her eyes. "You can’t blame yourself for this," I said firmly.
"It’s not your fault that your father’s business is struggling. And it’s definitely not your fault that the bank is threatening to take your house."
"But there's something else," Isabel whispered, glancing nervously at the envelope in her hands.
"What is it?" I asked, my heart pounding with anticipation.
She hesitated for a moment before handing me the envelope. "My father found out about your inheritance, and he wants you to invest in his company."
I lead Isabel to my newly acquired Rolls Royce.
It was a beauty, with its sleek black body and shiny chrome wheels.
I was still getting used to the feel of the leather seats and that new car smell.
The chauffeur opened the door for us, and we climbed inside.
Isabel sat next to me, her hands fidgeting with the strap of her purse.
She looked nervous, and I couldn’t blame her.
This was a big change for both of us.
The car pulled out of the driveway and onto the road.
We drove through the city, passing by tall skyscrapers and busy streets.
Eventually, we made our way to the business district, where Isabel’s father had his office.
As we drove, Isabel explained what had happened with her family’s shipping company.
Apparently, they had lost several major contracts to overseas competitors, which had caused their profits to plummet.
Her father had tried to find new clients, but it wasn’t easy. "He’s very proud," she said, looking down at her lap.
"He didn’t want to ask for help until it was too late."
I nodded sympathetically.
"I understand. It can be hard to admit when you need help."
"Yes," she agreed.
"But he should have done something sooner. Now it might be too late."
We pulled up to a modest office building in the heart of the city.
The sign on the front read "Chen Shipping Company" in bold letters.
Isabel’s father had worked hard to build this business from scratch, but now it was on the verge of collapse.
The chauffeur opened the door for us, and we stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Isabel grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly as we walked toward the entrance.
I could feel her nervous energy radiating off of her like heat waves on a summer day. As we approached the building, I noticed a luxury car parked in one of the spots reserved for executives.
It was a Mercedes-Benz S-Class, with tinted windows and gleaming chrome wheels.
"That's my father's car," Isabel said quietly, her voice tinged with both pride and worry.
I glanced at her, sensing the weight of her emotions. "Are you ready for this?"
She hesitated, then nodded resolutely. "I have to be."
We followed her through the worn glass doors into the lobby.
It was quiet, with only a few people milling about.
The receptionist's desk was empty, and the fake plants were covered in a layer of dust.
Isabel led me to a set of elevators, and we stepped inside.
The doors closed behind us, and we began our ascent to the top floor.
As we rode up, I couldn't help but notice the worn carpet and outdated decor.
It was clear that the company had seen better days.
When the elevator doors opened, Isabel led me down a long hallway lined with offices.
Most of them were empty, but a few had people working at their desks.
We reached the end of the hall and stopped in front of a large wooden door with a brass plaque that read "Mr. Chen."
Isabel knocked softly, and a moment later, a voice called out from inside. "Come in." The door opened, and Mr. Chen stood before us, dressed in his usual tailored suit.
But there was something different about him today.
His suit seemed slightly wrinkled, and his smile was strained.
He extended his hand to me, and I shook it firmly.
"Thank you for coming," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.
"I appreciate your willingness to help us out."
I nodded politely, trying to hide my own doubts about this situation.
Mr. Chen gestured for us to follow him into his office, and we did so.
As we walked in, I noticed that his desk was cluttered with papers and files, and there were dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep.
But what really caught my attention was that he wasn’t wearing his gold watch - the one he always flaunted at community events or parties. As we sat down across from him at his desk, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.
Something wasn't right here, and I wasn't sure what it was yet.
But I knew I needed to be careful if I wanted to protect myself and my newfound wealth.
"So," Mr. Chen began, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers together in front of him. "I'm sure you're aware of why you're here."
I nodded slowly, trying to gauge his tone.
"Yes," I replied cautiously. "Isabel told me about your company's financial struggles."
He nodded solemnly.
"Yes. It's been a difficult time for all of us. But we're hoping that with your help, we can turn things around."
"Before we proceed," I said, choosing my words carefully, "I need to understand exactly what you're asking of me."
Mr. Chen exchanged a quick glance with Isabel before replying, "We need a substantial investment to secure new contracts and stabilize the company."
"And what assurances do I have that this will work?" I asked, my voice steady but firm.
He leaned forward in his chair, pushing a thick folder across the desk toward me.
"This is our business plan," he explained, his eyes locked on mine.
"It outlines our strategy for expansion into Southeast Asian markets and lists several Fortune 500 companies we're in talks with."
I opened the folder and began to flip through the pages.
The cover page had a glossy sheen to it, with colorful graphs and charts that promised a bright future for Chen Shipping Company.
But as I delved deeper into the document, I noticed something odd.
The financial projections were overly optimistic, and there were discrepancies in the operational costs section.
I marked the page with my finger, intending to ask about it later.
Mr. Chen pointed to specific sections of the plan, his finger trembling slightly as he spoke.
I close the folder and study his face.
He stammers through a vague response about market resilience, his eyes darting to Isabel before returning to me.
His hands fidget with his tie, betraying his nervousness.
The office feels smaller as I press on.
"And what about backup strategies in case these new contracts fall through?"
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
"We've been in this industry for years," he says, his voice strained.
"We know how to adapt."
I lean forward, my gaze unwavering.
"Adapting isn't enough. I need concrete plans."
He clears his throat, glancing at Isabel again before responding, "We have a team working on contingency measures."
I open the folder again, flipping to the marked page.
"Can you explain these discrepancies in operational costs? It seems like there's a significant gap between projected expenses and actual spending."
Mr. Chen's complexion pales as he looks at the numbers I'm pointing out.
"Ah, that's just a clerical error," he says hastily.
"Our accountant is working on correcting it." I raise an eyebrow, skeptical.
"A clerical error that large? That doesn't sound like a minor mistake."
Isabel's eyes widen as she looks at the numbers I've highlighted.
She glances at her father, then back at me.
"Isabel, can you explain this?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.
Mr. Chen waves his hand dismissively.
"It's nothing to worry about. Just a miscommunication between departments."
I stand up slowly, gathering the documents and tucking them back into the folder.
"I think we should discuss this further," I say, my voice measured.
"I need more information before making any decisions."
Mr. Chen stands up abruptly, his face flushed with anxiety.
"Of course," he says quickly.
"Let me get our accountant in here to clarify things."
As he rushes out of the room, Isabel moves away from her father's desk, her shoulders tense and her eyes fixed on the floor.
I can sense her unease growing by the minute. A few moments later, Mr. Chen returns with a middle-aged woman carrying a thick binder full of financial reports.
She introduces herself as Ms. Lee, the company's accountant, and begins explaining the discrepancies I pointed out earlier.
As she speaks, I notice that Mr. Chen seems increasingly agitated, shifting in his seat and glancing nervously at Isabel.
I realize then that the truth was buried deeper than any financial report could reveal.
I lean forward in my chair, fixing my gaze on Ms. Lee as she fumbles with her tablet.
"Could you walk me through the operational expenses from the past quarter?"
I ask, pointing to specific line items that caught my attention.
Ms. Lee glances nervously at Mr. Chen before pulling up a spreadsheet on her tablet.
As she scrolls through the numbers, I notice that they don't match the figures in the proposal Mr. Chen handed me earlier.
I point out the discrepancy, and Ms. Lee's hands begin to tremble.
Mr. Chen interrupts, trying to steer the conversation back to future projections and growth potential.
But I hold up my hand, silencing him.
"I'd like to understand what happened in the past before we talk about the future," I say firmly.
Isabel shifts uncomfortably in her seat beside me, sensing the tension building in the room.
Ms. Lee continues scrolling through more documents on her tablet, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
I lean forward in my chair, watching Ms. Lee's trembling fingers tap at her calculator.
The numbers she's presenting for fuel costs are nearly double the industry standard, and when I ask about it, she mumbles something about fluctuating global prices.
But when I pull out my phone and show her the current market rates, her eyes widen in panic.
Mr. Chen stands abruptly, his face turning red.
"I need to get some additional documentation from my office," he says, his voice strained.
Before he leaves the room, he leans down and whispers something in Ms. Lee's ear.
She nods hastily and closes her laptop, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
Isabel fidgets in her seat beside me, her eyes fixed on a framed photo of the three of them on Mr. Chen's desk.
It must have been taken years ago, judging by their smiles and the way Mr. Chen's arm is wrapped protectively around Isabel's shoulders.
Isabel finally breaks the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.
"There's something you need to know," she says, glancing nervously at the door Mr. Chen just exited.
Ms. Lee looks up sharply, her eyes wide with alarm as Isabel continues, "My father has been hiding financial losses for months."
I lean forward in my chair, keeping my eyes locked on Isabel's face.
She hesitates, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap.
Ms. Lee starts gathering her papers, preparing to leave, but I raise my hand slightly, signaling for her to stay.
Isabel takes a deep breath before continuing, "Last week, I found some forged invoices in my father's desk drawer. They were fake shipping contracts worth millions of dollars. But when I checked the records, those contracts didn't exist."
Her voice trembles as she adds, "And then there were the late-night phone calls. I overheard him talking about borrowing money from...from people who don't exactly have the best reputation."
Ms. Lee's face pales with each word Isabel speaks.
She slowly sinks back into her chair, her hands shaking as she clutches a stack of papers tightly against her chest.
"And then there are these," Isabel says, pulling out a folder from her bag and sliding it across the table towards me.
"It's a list of all the discrepancies I found in the company accounts. Dates, contract numbers...everything."
I open the folder, scanning the damning evidence, and realize that this meeting was never about numbers—it was about uncovering the truth.
I stand up from my chair, placing the folder firmly on Mr. Chen's desk.
Ms. Lee flinches at the sound.
Walking around to her side of the desk, I pull up a few specific invoice numbers on her laptop screen and point to the dates.
"These don't match the shipping records," I say, my voice firm but controlled.
"Can you explain?"
Ms. Lee's fingers tremble over the keyboard as she tries to pull up different files.
Isabel moves closer, her eyes fixed on Ms. Lee's screen.
"Container Ship MT-789," I say, pointing to one of the invoices.
"It says here that it delivered goods to Singapore last month. But according to our records, that vessel was docked in Shanghai that week."
Ms. Lee's face drains of color.
She tries to speak but can't form words.
I continue laying out more discrepancies, each one revealing a web of deceit that goes far beyond simple accounting errors.
Isabel leans in, her voice steadying as she speaks.
"Ms. Lee, I know you're just following orders, but you have to understand the gravity of this situation."
Ms. Lee finally finds her voice, whispering, "I never wanted to be part of this... I was threatened into compliance."
I pull out my phone and start recording as Ms. Lee begins to detail the extent of the fraudulent activities.
Her voice quivers with each revelation, but she continues, opening multiple spreadsheets on her laptop.
She shows us how Mr. Chen manipulated shipping manifests, created ghost vessels, and even secured illegal loans by falsifying cargo values.
Isabel stands behind me, photographing key documents with her phone while Ms. Lee explains specific transactions and how they were concealed.
As we delve deeper into the evidence, we hear footsteps approaching the office.
Ms. Lee quickly emails me a backup of all the files containing proof of the fraud.
I slip my phone back into my pocket just as Mr. Chen returns.