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MidReal Story
The Billionaire's Secret Society Baby
Scenario:In Paris, a young heiress from a Russian family background named Anastasia Petrova is caught up in a web of politics and corruption. Tall and elegant, she smirks and has great ambition. Note she makes deals with secret societies and note postmodern themes. Sports.
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Anastasia Petrova
She is a young heiress to a Russian family fortune. She is cunning,ambitious,and charismatic. Anastasia finds herself entangled in Parisian politics and secret societies after discovering a hidden journal. She smizes and feels empowered by the attention she receives. Her father is involved in corrupt business dealings,and she grapples with their impact. Despite her privileged background,Anastasia experiences intrigue and danger,leading her to navigate complex circumstances with determination.
Olga
She is Anastasia's cousin and confidante. She is intelligent,loyal,and cautious. Olga provides support for Anastasia as she navigates the complexities of their family’s affairs. She helps decipher the meaning behind the journal Anastasia found and offers insight into the Petrov family dynamics. Olga is concerned about the danger surrounding their father’s actions but remains steadfast in her commitment to protect Anastasia from Sergei's influence and the repercussions of their father's misdeeds.
Sergei Petrov
He is Anastasia's father and a prominent Russian businessman. He is ambitious,ruthless,and controlling. Sergei has built a vast fortune through questionable means and seeks to expand his influence globally. His business dealings often involve manipulation and intimidation. Despite his wealth and status,Sergei's actions create tension with Anastasia,who resents his role in their family’s struggles. His controlling nature surfaces when he attempts to dictate Anastasia’s life path for strategic gain.
I was born to be a star.
And I knew it the moment I received my first ovation.
I was two years old.
I’d walked out onto the stage in my mother’s arms, and everyone clapped for me.
And I knew right then that I was meant for greatness.
That I was meant to be admired and adored.
And from that day forward, I made sure I received the attention I deserved.
Because being in the spotlight felt so natural, so right.
And when you’re smizing, no one can resist your charm.
Smize, for those who don’t know, means to smile with your eyes.
It’s a term coined by Tyra Banks, and it’s all about exuding confidence and power through your gaze.
When you’re smizing, you’re unstoppable.
And when you’re as hot and sexy as I am, no one can deny you anything when you’re smizing at them.
I’m not being cocky.
I adjust my emerald gown, the silk rustling as I shift in the leather seat of the limousine.
I rehearse the names of the most important politicians attending tonight’s gala at the Palais Garnier: The Prime Minister, The President of the National Assembly, and most importantly, The Minister of Finance.
The journal entry about Victor’s connection to him burns in my mind.
I’ve read it so many times, I can almost recite it by heart.
But I need to see it for myself, to confirm what I already suspect.
The limousine slows to a stop in front of the opera house, and through the tinted windows, I see camera flashes illuminating the red carpet.
The driver opens my door, and I step out into the night air, my shoulders back, my chin lifted.
The paparazzi call my name, but I don’t turn toward them until I’m sure they’ve captured my profile against the gilded facade of the opera house. A waiter offers me a glass of champagne from the fountain in the marble foyer, and I take it, scanning the room for any sign of The Minister while maintaining my practiced smize.
"Do you really think he'll show up tonight?" whispers Victor, appearing at my side with a glass of his own.
"He has to," I reply, keeping my eyes trained on the entrance. "If what you wrote is true, then he won't risk missing this opportunity."
"And if it's not?" Victor asks, his voice barely audible over the chatter of the crowd.
I linger near a cluster of socialites, pretending to laugh at their jokes while keeping my eyes on The Minister across the foyer.
He's speaking in hushed tones with another man, his expression serious.
Every so often, he glances in my direction, and I can sense Victor's tension beside me.
A waiter passes with a tray of fresh champagne, and I use the opportunity to drift closer to The Minister, catching snippets of their conversation.
"...offshore accounts...can't be traced..."
"...your father's name...never come back to haunt you..."
My phone buzzes in my clutch, and I excuse myself to check the screen.
It's a news alert: "Petrov Industries stock plummets 30% after leaked documents expose illegal dealings."
I open my investment portfolio app, scrolling through the numbers with a satisfied smile.
I'd quietly moved my assets weeks ago, anticipating this exact outcome.
The Minister looks up, his eyes locking onto mine across the room.
"You're playing a dangerous game," Victor murmurs, his voice laced with concern.
"Only if I lose," I reply, my gaze unwavering as The Minister starts making his way toward us.
"And what if he knows you're the one who leaked it?" Victor presses, his grip tightening on his glass.
I guide The Minister to a secluded alcove near the grand staircase, my heels clicking against the marble floor.
He sips his champagne nervously, his eyes darting around the room.
"I'm sure you remember my cousin Olga," I say, leaning in closer.
"She worked at your private estate last summer."
The Minister's hand trembles slightly as he raises his glass to his lips.
"Olga was quite...curious," I continue, my voice low and deliberate.
"She discovered some interesting security footage in the guest house."
The Minister's face pales, and he sets his glass down on a nearby table.
"I'm not sure what you're insinuating," he says, his voice strained.
"Oh, I think you do," I reply, my smile widening.
"The footage showed a certain someone engaging in...compromising activities."
The Minister clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, but his voice betrays him.
"Let me refresh your memory," I say, taking a step closer.
"The footage was taken on the night of July 15th, at approximately 11:47 PM. It shows a man entering one of the guest rooms. A man who bears a striking resemblance to you."
The Minister's eyes widen, and he takes a step back.
"How did you...?" he stammers. "Olga was quite resourceful," I reply, my eyes locked on his.
"She managed to retrieve the footage before it was deleted. And now, it's safely stored in my private vault."
The Minister's face drains of color, and he looks like he's about to collapse.
"What do you want from me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Oh, I think you know exactly what I want," I reply, my smile growing wider.
"And if you don't cooperate...well, let's just say that the footage could find its way into the wrong hands."
The Minister looks like he's about to pass out, and I can see the fear in his eyes.
He knows that I have him right where I want him.
And there's no escape from this situation.
"Please," he begs, "don't do this."
"Oh, but it's already done," I reply, my voice dripping with satisfaction.
"You should have thought of that before you decided to play dirty."
The Minister looks like he's about to cry, and I can feel the power coursing through me.
The Minister's eyes flicker with resignation as he nods, sealing his fate with a single, silent agreement.
