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MidReal Story
The Billionaire's Secret Baby
Scenario:I'm 27 year old masters student Jacob. I live in a flat in Helsinki. The flat got more expensive, so I had to get a flatmate. Today, she arrived, Beatrice. She's beautiful. She's 18, naive, having been homeschooled and very focussed on looks - perfect makeup, expensive clothes, diamond rings and necklaces. She moved to the city from her parents huge mansion in the countryside.
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Jacob
He is a 27yearold masters student living in a flat in Helsinki. He is independent,responsible,and slightly overwhelmed. Jacob recently had to take a second flatmate due to rising rents,which changed his living situation. His new flatmate Beatrice is young and beautiful,introducing an unexpected dynamic to their shared space. Jacob struggles with balancing his studies and work while maintaining some privacy and sanity in his newly shared environment.
Beatrice
She is an 18yearold recent high school graduate from a wealthy family in the countryside. She is naive,selfabsent,and fashionfocused. Having been homeschooled and sheltered by her parents,Beatrice is unprepared for city life and easily gets into trouble. Her obsession with appearance drives her to work multiple parttime jobs. Living with her older flatmate,she initially sees Jacob as a potential boyfriend,creating a complicated living situation.
I stare at her.
Yeah, I know, staring is rude.
But I’m just… surprised.
I didn’t expect my new flatmate to be so… beautiful.
She’s only eighteen, a year out of high school, and I guess I expected someone shy from her description.
Less confident, Less… hot.
I’ve never been one to be distracted by girls, not when I have books to read and lectures to attend.
I’m a masters student at the University of Helsinki, independent and responsible, but Beatrice is… wow.
With her perfect makeup, expensive-looking clothes, and diamond rings and necklaces, she seems more interested in her looks than anything else.
"I’m Beatrice," she says, smiling at me.
"Hi."
I clear my throat.
"Hi, Beatrice. Welcome to our humble flat."
I gesture for her to follow me and show her around.
She looks around the living room with a critical eye.
"It’s nice," she says finally.
"I mean, it’s no mansion or anything, but it will do."
"Aren’t you a little young to be living away from your parents?" I ask.
She rolls her eyes.
"Yeah, probably. But I wanted the city life. You know? Something different."
"Did your parents not want you to move away?"
"They don’t mind. They just want me to be happy. And I’m not happy in the countryside. It’s so boring there."
I can’t help but smile at that.
"I can understand that," I say.
"Come, let me show you the kitchen."
I lead her into the kitchen and try to focus on being a good host instead of staring at her perfectly manicured, long red acrylic nails drumming against her phone screen.
The kitchen feels smaller with both of us in it, and I fumble through the drawer of takeout menus.
Beatrice leans against the counter, scrolling through her phone with one hand while the other arm is crossed over her chest.
The diamond bracelet on her wrist catches the fluorescent light above the sink.
"We should order some food to celebrate your moving in," I suggest.
Her face lights up.
"That sounds like a great idea," she says, stepping closer to look at the menus.
The small kitchen suddenly feels even smaller, and I’m acutely aware of how close she is to me.
I can smell her expensive perfume, and it’s making my head spin.
Standing in the kitchen, I pull up the delivery apps on my phone, and Beatrice leans over my shoulder to look.
I notice her hesitate, her eyes darting back and forth between the various options.
She takes a step back, her hands fidgeting with the diamond necklace around her neck.
"You choose, Jacob," she murmurs.
I nod, feeling a sense of responsibility wash over me.
I select a local Italian place that seems like a safe choice.
Beatrice watches intently as I finalize the order on my phone.
She sits down at the kitchen table, smoothing out her dress, while I confirm the delivery time.
"Jacob, can I ask you something?" she says, her voice suddenly serious.
"Of course," I reply, curious about the shift in her tone.
"Do you think it's possible to start over, like really start fresh, even if you're running from something?"
I lean against the kitchen counter, trying to focus on the screen of my phone while the delivery app loads.
Beatrice's question hangs in the air between us.
The small kitchen feels even smaller with her in it, and her perfume is overpowering.
She sits at the table, still fidgeting with her necklace, and I can't help but notice how the diamonds catch the light from the overhead fixture.
My mouth feels dry as I follow the sparkle down her neck and lower, to where her dress dips just a little too low.
I clear my throat and gesture vaguely at her jewelry.
"Those diamonds must have a story, huh?" I say, trying to sound casual.
She hesitates, her fingers pausing on the necklace.
"They're a gift from my father," she admits softly, "but they remind me of things I'd rather forget."
The delivery app shows twenty minutes until our food arrives.
I lean against the counter, watching Beatrice fidget with her necklace while that intoxicating perfume drifts through our kitchen.
The diamonds catch the light as her fingers trace the chain, and I find myself imagining ways to make her more comfortable here.
"We could change things around," I suggest, gesturing at the dated wallpaper and worn cabinets.
"Make it feel more like home."
Her eyes light up as I describe potential renovations - new paint, modern fixtures, maybe even marble countertops like she had before.
Standing in our cramped kitchen, I watch Beatrice's face light up at my suggestion.
She rises from her chair, closing the distance between us with quick steps.
Her diamond necklace catches the fluorescent light as she grabs my hands, her expensive perfume overwhelming my senses in our confined space.
Through my growing lightheadedness, I hear her excited voice detailing plans for new furniture, wallpaper, and even rearranging my bedroom.
The words "your room too" barely register as I nod along, my thoughts clouded by her proximity and the intoxicating scent.
"Jacob," she says, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I need this to work, I can't go back."
Her grip on my hands tightens, and I can feel the urgency in her touch.
"I promise, we'll make it our sanctuary," I assure her, feeling the weight of her past pressing into our present.