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MidReal Story
The Billionaire Reborn
Scenario:Kevin 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. Kevin inherited immense wealth from his grandfather, shocking everyone. He was the heir to one of the only Multi Quadrillionaire families 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, Kevin will get revenge on those who treated him badly. Will he succeed?
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Kevin Kenmore
He is a previously impoverished orphan who took on menial jobs to survive. He is resilient, determined, and witty. Despite being called a failure and having a tumultuous relationship, Kevin inherits a massive fortune from his reclusive grandfather. With newfound wealth, he sets out to reclaim his life, seeking revenge on those who wronged him and winning over his exgirlfriend’s husband. He faces judgment from society but remains steadfast in his path.
Maggie
She is Kevin Kenmore's exgirlfriend. She is beautiful, manipulative, and ambitious. Initially drawn to Kevin due to his impoverished appearance, she later switches to a more affluent partner, Regan's husband. However, she sends Kevin a kissy face emoji after hearing about his sudden inheritance, indicating a lingering attachment. Her character represents the societal notion that women often prefer wealth over stability known in Keno.
Regan
She is the wife of Kevin's former boss and coworker. She is wealthy, judgmental, and materialistic. Regan views Kevin as a lowlife and is glad he left her husband for someone more suitable. When news breaks of Kevin's inheritance, she attempts to win him over to secure her social status. Her actions highlight societal class struggles and the pursuit of status.
I was a poor orphan.
I did all sorts of menial jobs just to keep body and soul together.
I was the laughing stock of everybody.
I had no hope of a better life.
But all of a sudden, I got a call that would change my life forever.
It was from a lawyer who told me I was the beneficiary of a huge sum of money left by my grandfather whom I had never met or heard of.
I was skeptical at first, but I decided to take a chance.
When I got to the lawyer's office, I was given a check of five hundred billion dollars.
It was like a dream.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
It took me hours to finally come out of my trance.
The lawyer also handed me ownership papers of three mansions and two private jets.
It all looked like a dream until I finally came to myself and realized it wasn't.
I had actually received the inheritance.
I couldn't contain my excitement, so I decided to share the news with someone I knew would be happy for me.
I sent the news to my girlfriend, Maggie, whom I had been dating for three years.
But instead of getting the response I had expected, she sent me a kissy face emoji which confused me even more.
Days turned into weeks and Maggie still hadn't given any response to my text.
So, I decided to pay her a visit which also confused me even more because she wasn't alone.
I stand frozen in her doorway, staring at her sitting comfortably on her couch with a man's arm draped around her shoulders.
She jumps up, stammering excuses, but I recognize him - James from accounting, always flashing his Rolex and BMW keys at work.
The room spins as memories flood back: Maggie's recent distance, her cancelled dates, her vague explanations.
My fists clench involuntarily as James smirks, pulling Maggie closer.
She reaches toward me, her gold bracelet catching the light - the one she claimed was from her mother.
I recognize it now as the limited edition piece James bragged about buying last month.
I stare at them, their bodies intertwined on her leather couch, my stomach churning.
The gold bracelet glints on her wrist as she reaches toward me, stammering excuses about our relationship being "complicated."
James's smirk grows wider as he tightens his grip around her waist.
My fists clench, then relax.
The inheritance papers in my jacket pocket suddenly feel heavy.
Without a word, I step backward toward the door, my shoes squeaking against her polished hardwood floor.
My footsteps echo through her hallway as I move toward the exit.
The papers crinkle in my pocket with each step, a reminder of the new reality I've entered.
At the door, I pause with my hand on the brass handle.
"Mateo," Maggie calls out, her voice laced with desperation.
James's muffled laughter follows, making my jaw clench.
But I don't turn back.
The door swings open, and the cool evening air hits my face.
"Mateo, wait!" Maggie's voice trembles, breaking through the tension.
I stop but don't turn around, my voice steady as I say, "Was it ever real, Maggie, or was I just a stepping stone?"
James chuckles behind her, his arrogance palpable as he adds, "You were always just a placeholder, mate."
I step onto Maggie's driveway, my shoes crunching on the gravel as their voices fade behind me.
The security light flickers on, casting my shadow long across the ground.
I pull out my phone, delete her contact, and erase the photos of us together.
The inheritance papers rustle in my pocket as I reach my old beaten-up car.
Inside, I grip the steering wheel, noticing how the leather is worn through in places.
Instead of starting the engine, I make a call to the lawyer about accessing my new accounts.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, feeling its cracked leather under my fingers one last time.
The key turns with a familiar grinding sound, and the engine sputters to life like it always has.
Through the windshield, I watch Maggie's porch light flicker as shadows move behind her curtains.
My phone buzzes - another message from her, but I don't look.
Instead, I pull up my lawyer's number and press call.
As it rings, I shift into reverse, the gravel crunching under my tires.
I pull away from Maggie's driveway, my tires crunching over the loose gravel.
The old car's engine whines as I accelerate down her suburban street, past manicured lawns and expensive homes I used to envy.
Through the rearview mirror, I watch her porch light grow smaller and smaller until it disappears around a corner.
My phone keeps buzzing - three, four, five times - but I keep my eyes on the road ahead where downtown's gleaming towers rise against the darkening sky.
At the first red light, I remove my phone's SIM card and toss it out the window.
I merge onto the highway leading downtown, watching the streetlights blur past my windshield.
The inheritance papers crinkle as I shift in my seat, reminding me of the wealth waiting to change everything.
The old car's engine whines as I press the gas pedal harder, barely keeping up with the flow of traffic.
When I see the exit for the financial district, I take it.
My lawyer's office is just a few blocks away.
The skyscrapers rise up around me, their reflections glinting off other buildings as I navigate through the crowded streets.
I park and step out, leaving the past behind with the slam of the car door.
I walk through the revolving doors of Sterling & Associates, my shoes squeaking against the polished marble floor of the lobby.
The security guard looks up from his desk, eyeing my shabby clothes suspiciously.
"Appointment?" he asks gruffly, his hand resting on the baton at his hip.
I pull the appointment card from my pocket and hold it out.
He squints at it before stepping aside with a grunt.
"Take the elevator to the top floor."
I nod and walk past him, feeling his eyes on my back as I step into the elevator.
It's crowded with men in tailored suits and women in designer dresses, all of them glancing at me with a mixture of confusion and disdain.
They shift away from me, whispering behind their hands.
The elevator dings as we reach each floor, people getting off until I'm alone when it reaches the top.
The doors slide open, revealing a plush reception area with a large wooden desk at its center.
Behind it sits a woman in a crisp business suit, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She looks up as I approach, her eyes widening slightly when she recognizes me from last week.
"Oh, Mr. Kenmore," she says quickly, scrambling to her feet.
"I didn't expect you to... please, follow me."
She leads me down a hallway lined with doors to offices and conference rooms.
We stop at one that's slightly ajar, and she pushes it open for me to enter.
Inside is a large conference table surrounded by leather chairs, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of downtown.
"Please have a seat," she says, gesturing to one of the chairs.
"The lawyer will be right in."
I nod and sit down, watching her hurry out and close the door behind her.
I look around the room - everything is sleek and modern, from the polished wood table to the high-tech projector mounted on the ceiling. I get up and walk over to the windows, looking out at the city below.
The sun is setting, casting long shadows across buildings and streets filled with people rushing to and fro.
I turn back to face the room, catching my reflection in the windowpane.
For a moment, I barely recognize myself - this will be the last time anyone sees Kevin Kenmore looking poor and defeated.
The door opens behind me, pulling my attention away from my reflection.
"Mr. Kenmore, I presume?" a voice says, smooth and confident.
I turn to see a man in a tailored suit, his hand extended.
"Yes," I reply, shaking his hand, "and I'm ready to discuss the terms of my inheritance."
He smiles, gesturing for me to take a seat.
I settle into the leather conference chair, smoothing out my worn jeans as he sits across from me and begins spreading documents out on the table.
"The terms of your inheritance are quite straightforward," he explains, pushing a stack of papers towards me.
"You will receive a monthly allowance of $10,000, transferred directly into your bank account. Additionally, you have inherited several properties around the city, including a penthouse apartment in this very building."
He points to a document with a picture of the building's floor plan.
"This is the deed to that apartment. You can move in whenever you're ready."
I glance at the document before looking back at him.
"That sounds good," I say, "but what about access to the funds? When can I expect them to be transferred?"
He hesitates for a moment before responding.
"There is a two-week waiting period before the first fund transfer can be made. This allows time for any legal disputes or challenges to be resolved."
I frown, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
"Two weeks? That's too long. I need access to that money now."
The lawyer shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
"I understand your urgency, but I'm afraid it's not possible to expedite the process. However, I can offer you an advance against the estate if you sign these additional papers." He slides another stack of documents across the table to me.
I grab the pen from his hand and scribble my signature on each page without even reading them.
The lawyer watches me intently before picking up his phone and dialing a number.
"Yes, Mr. Kenmore is here and has signed all necessary papers," he says into the receiver.
"Please bring up a temporary checkbook for him immediately."
He hangs up and turns back to me.
"My assistant will be right in with everything you need."
Within minutes, there's a knock on the door and his assistant enters with a small leather book in her hand.
She sets it down in front of me and steps back, her eyes fixed on me with curiosity.
I reach out and pick up the book, my hands shaking slightly as I open it.
"There's a temporary account set up for you, Mr. Kenmore," the lawyer explains.
"The funds will be transferred to your personal account once the waiting period is over, but in the meantime, you can use this checkbook to access the advance. Just be aware that there are limits on how much you can withdraw at any given time."
I nod, flipping through the pages of the checkbook.
They're all blank except for the first one, which already has my name and address printed in neat script.
I pull out my pen and begin writing.
The amount I'm about to receive feels surreal - fifty thousand dollars.
My hands shake as I tear out the first check, pressing hard enough to leave indents on the pages below.
I double-check each number, remembering how I used to count pennies just to fill up my gas tank.
When I finish signing, I slide the check across the table to the lawyer.
He takes it and examines it carefully before nodding and pushing a deposit slip towards me. "Here's a deposit slip for your local bank," he says.
"You can deposit this check tomorrow morning and have access to the funds immediately."
I take the deposit slip and look at it, noticing that it already has my account information printed on it.
The check's carbon copy shows through from the other side of the paper, a tangible proof that my life is about to change forever.
I leave the lawyer's office, clutching the checkbook like a shield against my old life.
I walk to the elevator, my fingers tracing the embossed cover of the checkbook.
As the doors open, I step inside, surrounded by the same people who had shunned me earlier.
They stare at me with confusion and curiosity, their whispers following me as I press the button for the ground floor.
The elevator descends, and I pull out the black and gold Citibank card from my pocket.
It feels heavy in my hand, a symbol of my new status.
The platinum K on its surface glimmers in the light, and I run my thumb over it.
I drive my beat-up car to Citibank's main branch, parking between a Ferrari and a Bentley.
The night guard opens the door for me, recognizing me from the lawyer's call.
Inside, the marble floors echo with the sound of my worn shoes as I approach the private banking desk.
The late-hour specialist, Ms. Chen, looks up at me with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.
Despite her formal attire, she can't hide her surprise at seeing someone dressed like me in such an exclusive place.
"Mr. Kenmore?" she asks, her voice laced with doubt.
"Yes," I reply, placing the check and deposit slip on her desk.
She examines them carefully before looking up at me again.
"Please have a seat," she says, gesturing to a chair beside her desk.
I sit down, watching as she types rapidly on her computer.
Her eyes widen slightly when she sees the amount on the check.
She makes a few calls, then scans my ID multiple times before finally processing the deposit. "Is there anything else I can assist you with?" she asks after completing the transaction.
"Yes," I reply, leaning forward slightly.
"Can I get a printed confirmation of my current balance?"
She nods and prints out a statement for me.
I sit there, studying the balance statement, when her computer chimes.
She frowns at the screen, makes a quick call, and then turns to me with a completely different expression.
"Mr. Kenmore," she says, her voice trembling slightly.
"Another inheritance transfer just cleared. It seems that your grandfather's overseas accounts have automatically merged with yours."
She slides a new statement across her desk, her hands shaking slightly.
The numbers blur before my eyes as I process this new information.
"Would you like me to explain the details?" she asks, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and caution.
I nod, still trying to comprehend the sudden change in my financial situation.
"Of course," she continues.
"Your grandfather's accounts were set up to automatically merge with yours upon his passing. This is a common practice for inheritance transfers."
I look at the new statement, my mind racing with the implications.
"Mr. Kenmore," Ms. Chen says gently, interrupting my thoughts.
"I understand that this is a lot to take in. If you would like, I can give you a tour of our premium vault services."
I follow Ms. Chen through a series of security checkpoints, each one requiring different forms of verification.
She swipes her keycard at a reinforced door, leading me down a pristine hallway lined with biometric scanners.
The vault area feels like a high-tech fortress, with cameras tracking our every move.
At each checkpoint, I notice how the guards' attitudes shift from suspicion to deference once Ms. Chen shows them my account details.
We reach a massive steel door, and she turns to me with a smile.
"This is our most elite level of security," she explains.
"Only our top clients have access to this area."
I step inside, feeling the weight of a legacy I never anticipated.