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MidReal Story
The Billionaire Rebound
Scenario:Kevin Kenmore, Jr. 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 two only multi-Quadrillonaire 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, Jr.
He is the son of a single mother, orphaned at age seven. He is resilient, misunderstood, and determined. Kevin faced a harsh childhood without parents, living with a wealthy uncle who treated him poorly. His life changed when he inherited the wealth of his late grandfather, a multiQuadrillonaire. Despite being labeled a failure by others, Kevin was intelligent and capable. His newfound wealth allows him to seek revenge on those who wronged him and win over his exgirlfriend’s husband.
David
He is Kevin Kenmore's new uncle by marriage. He is selfish, materialistic, and deceitful. Previously an uninvited guest at Kevin’s wedding, David now lives in the house and treats it as his own playground. His past attempts to hide his true nature are exposed as he tries to take control of Kevin’s inherited wealth for himself through manipulative schemes involving Erin.
Erin
She is David Kenmore's fiancée and Kevin's exgirlfriend. She is beautiful, manipulative, and ambitious. Initially leaving Kevin for someone more affluent, Erin now regrets her decision after realizing David’s true character. She tries to win back Kevin through flattery and subtle hints of rekindling their past romance despite being unaware of the depth of her betrayal.
My girlfriend left me for a richer guy.
She was my first love, and we had been together for five years.
I was heartbroken, but I didn't know it yet.
I thought I could win her back.
After all, I wasn't poor.
I was just...not rich.
But she wanted someone who could give her more.
Someone who could buy her a house, a car, and expensive jewelry.
I couldn't blame her.
I would have wanted that too if I were in her shoes.
The problem was that she was with me for so long because of my potential, not my actual wealth.
She thought my father was loaded, but he wasn't.
He had died when I was seven, and my mother died a year later.
My uncle took me in, but he wasn't exactly the most loving or generous person in the world.
In fact, he treated me more like a servant than a relative.
I had to do all the chores in the house and tend to the garden outside.
If I didn't finish them on time, he would take away my dinner and force me to sleep on the floor outside his room.
It was a hard life, but it made me stronger and more resilient.
It also made me smarter and resourceful.
I learned how to fix things around the house, grow vegetables in the garden, and even how to make my own clothes.
I sit at my new mahogany desk, staring down at the stack of college applications Helen brought me earlier.
The leather chair creaks as I lean back and consider my options.
Harvard, Yale, Stanford - all previously impossible dreams now within my reach.
My fingers trace the embossed letterhead of each university while I remember the words Erin spoke to me last year.
"You're going to community college," she had said, her voice dripping with disdain.
"Only losers go to community college."
Now, here I am, applying to the most prestigious universities in the country.
The autumn sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the room.
I glance at the empty coffee cup Helen left on my desk, a reminder that I have a long day ahead of me.
With a sigh, I pull out my grandfather's fountain pen and begin filling out the Harvard application.
The first question asks for my personal statement, and I know exactly what I want to say. The scratching of pen on paper fills the quiet room as I write about overcoming adversity and chasing my dreams.
I pause, realizing that my past no longer defines me; it's merely the foundation for the future I'm building.
I review my statement one final time, each word carefully chosen to convey my journey from sleeping on my uncle's floor to inheriting a fortune.
Helen enters the room with a fresh cup of coffee, refilling my empty one.
She nods at the screen, her eyes scanning the words I've written.
With a smile, she leaves me to finish my application.
My fingers hover over the gold-trimmed fountain pen, ready to sign my digital signature.
The statement speaks of resilience and determination, not revenge or anger.
But Erin's mocking voice still echoes in my mind.
I click through the application portal, ensuring I've completed every required field.
Transcripts, recommendations, test scores - all in order.
With a deep breath, I click "Submit" on Harvard's portal first.
With Harvard's application complete, I pull up Yale's portal on my laptop while keeping the pen ready.
The leather chair creaks again as I lean forward, reading through Yale's supplemental essay prompts.
They ask about leadership and community impact, but I know my story is more about resilience and determination.
Helen enters the room with a plate of sandwiches and sets it down beside me without a word.
She knows these applications will take hours to complete.
I glance at the clock on the wall, the ticking echoing through the silence.
The words from my personal statement linger in my mind, a reminder that every choice has consequences.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I consider how to frame my story differently for Yale.
Perhaps this time, I'll focus on the nights spent sleeping on my uncle's floor, how they shaped me into the person I am today. The familiar ache in my chest returns as I begin typing.
The opening line appears on the screen: "Life has a way of transforming us through adversity."
Helen watches me type, then clears her throat gently.
"Have you ever thought about what you'd say to Erin now?" she asks, her voice soft but curious.
I pause, fingers still on the keys, and reply, "I'd thank her for underestimating me; it pushed me to prove her wrong."
Helen smiles, then leaves me to my work.
I lean back in the leather chair, fingers hovering over the keyboard once more.
The words begin to flow easily now.
I describe the countless nights spent scrubbing floors until midnight, only to wake up before dawn for school.
I explain how I maintained straight A's despite the challenges, how I found solace in my studies.
The room falls silent again, the only sound the clicking of keys as I pour my heart into the essay.
Helen returns with a fresh sandwich and places it beside me without a word.
I take a bite, savoring the taste while I continue writing.
The words spill onto the screen, each paragraph stronger than the last.
I describe specific moments - studying by flashlight when my uncle cut power to my room, tutoring younger students between my custodial shifts at school.
Each story paints a picture of persistence and determination. The hours pass quickly as I immerse myself in my essay.
When I finally reach the section about future goals, I pause for a moment.
Erin's sneering face flashes in my mind once more.
With renewed focus, I type with fierce precision: "Success is the best revenge."
I lean back in my leather chair, reading the final draft one last time.
The essay captures everything - the cold floors I slept on, the endless chores, and the late-night studying that got me here.
My finger hovers over the submit button as Helen refills my coffee cup.
She squeezes my shoulder, a gesture of support I never got from my uncle.
The words on screen blur slightly as exhaustion sets in, but I won't stop now.
With my grandfather's pen in hand for luck, I click submit.
The clock ticks softly, marking the moment my past transforms into possibility.