Share
MidReal Story
The Mafia Boss's Secret Wife
Scenario:this is in new york and its based on the starz drug dealing tv show power and this is a gangster and drug dealing and ambition and loyalty and adultery and betrayal and deception story tells the story of mohamed abdi, i am 38 years old and i have dark skin and i have black dreadlocks hair and i am arrogant and opportunist and ambitionist and leading a double life as genius business man and gangster and drug kingpin and drug lord and intelligent, smooth yet ruthless drug dealer who goes by the alias of "Ghost." i wishes to leave the criminal world to pursue legitimate business interests as a nightclub owner. i aim to balance those two lives, while also avoiding police capture, trying to navigate my crumbling marriage and manage shifting economic alliances. and i run a vast drug empire in new york city with my drug distributor and my best friend since childhood patrick anderson he and have been best friends since high childhood and we are like brothers he has light skin and blond hair and blue eyes and he is ruthless and has a short temper and and and i wear expensive suits to look like a business man to look like my public image mohamed abdi and i wear black colored clothes when i am ghost a ruthless intelligent genius drug dealer and drug lord and gangster and me and patrick learned and we were taught the drug game by our former drug lord malcolm jackson he has dark skin and he is 44 years old and i framed him for a murder because he wouldnt expand the drug business beyond queens in new york and i am married with a woman with dark skin named olivia abdi she is 34 years old and we have 3 dark skin children together named elijah abdi he is 15 years old and he wants to be a drug dealer and gangster like me and imani abdi elijahs 15 year old twin sister and my youngest daughter maya abdi she is 13 years old and i met my high school crush and former girlfriend a asian woman named monica hoang and she is now a fbi Assistant United States Attorneys investigating drug crimes and she wants to put me and patrick in prison but she cant she is still in love with me
Create my version of this story
Mohamed Abdi
He is a 38yearold genius business man and gangster in New York. He is ambitious, ruthless, and opportunistic. Mohamed Abdi hides his criminal past as a drug dealer while projecting a legitimate image as a successful entrepreneur, owning multiple properties and restaurants. His close friendship with Patrick Anderson dates back to high school, and they share a business partnership in drug distribution. Mohamed's marriage to Olivia and fatherhood of three children contrast with his clandestine lifestyle, as he navigates complex relationships and personal ambitions.
Elijah Abdi
He is Mohamed Abdi's eldest child, aged 15. He is impressionable, curious, and ambitious. Elijah admires his father’s success as a businessman while being unaware of the illegal aspects of his father’s occupation. His desire to emulate Mohamed adds tension to the family dynamic as he seeks validation from a father whose criminal activities pose risks to their family unit. Elijah’s ambition leads him to involve himself in Mohamed’s business affairs.
Imani Abdi
She is Mohamed Abdi's 15yearold daughter and twin sister to Elijah. She is intelligent, sensitive, and conflicted. Imani struggles with the fact that her father is involved in drugs while she dreams of a more conventional life. Her close relationship with Mohamed provides emotional support despite the underlying criminal context. Imani’s presence adds a layer of domestic complexity to Mohamed's dual life as he navigates these sensitive family dynamics.
I am Mohamed Abdi, a 38-year-old genius business man and gangster in New York.
I am arrogant, opportunist, ambitionist, and I have a double life as a legitimate business man and a ruthless gangster and drug kingpin.
I have dark skin and black dreadlocks hair.
I am leading a double life and nobody knows that I am the "Ghost" except my wife and my best friend Patrick Anderson.
He is my childhood friend turned business partner in crime.
We learned the drug game from our former drug lord Malcolm Jackson.
He is 44 years old with dark skin.
We were taught the drug game by him but I framed him for a murder because he wouldn't expand the drug business beyond Queens in New York.
I am married to Olivia Abdi, a 34-year-old woman with dark skin.
We have three children together with dark skin.
Our eldest child is Elijah Abdi, a 15-year-old boy who wants to be a drug dealer and gangster like me.
He has a twin sister named Imani Abdi who is intelligent, sensitive, and she hates the fact that her father is involved in drugs.
She wants to have a normal life with no crimes.
And our youngest daughter is Maya Abdi, a 13-year-old girl with dark skin.
I met my high school crush and former girlfriend Monica Hoang, an Asian woman, and she is now an FBI Assistant United States Attorney who investigates drug crimes.
I sit in my office at Truth nightclub, wearing a black suit with a white shirt and black tie.
I am going over some business plans for the club and the drug business.
I hear a knock on the door and it's Patrick Anderson.
He is dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and black tie.
He is looking at his phone with a serious look on his face.
"What's wrong?"
I ask him.
"Nothing. Just checking the numbers from last night," he says as he looks up from his phone.
"How much did we make?"
I ask him as I put away my paperwork.
"About 20,000 dollars," he says with a smile.
"That's good. We are making more money than ever before," I say as I stand up from my chair.
"Yes, we are. We have expanded our drug empire to all five boroughs of New York. We are meeting with all the gang leaders and we are only selling to them. We don't want any middlemen or people who are not gang leaders," I say as I walk over to the window and look out at the city. "Yes, that's right. We don't want any weak links in our chain. We only want to deal with people who are loyal to us and who will do what we say," Patrick says as he walks over to the window and stands next to me.
"That's right. We need to keep our operation tight and controlled. We can't let anyone get in our way or try to take what's ours," I say as I turn around and look at Patrick.
"I agree. We need to be ruthless and take out anyone who gets in our way," Patrick says as he looks at me with a serious expression.
"I know. But we also need to be smart about it. We can't just go around k###g people without a plan. We need to think things through and make sure that we are doing what's best for our business," I say as I walk over to my desk and sit down in my chair.
"I know. But sometimes you have to make tough decisions and do what needs to be done," Patrick says as he walks over to the chair across from my desk and sits down.
"I know. But we also need to remember that we are not just gangsters, we are also businessmen. And we need to act like it," I say as I lean back in my chair and look at Patrick.
"That's why we need to stay one step ahead, because the moment we slip, it's all over."
I walk down the stairs of Truth nightclub and look around at the crowd of people dancing and drinking.
I scan the room until I see her.
She is standing at the bar with a drink in her hand.
I walk over to her and call out her name.
"Monica."
She turns around and looks at me with a surprised expression on her face.
"Mohamed? Is that you?"
"Yes, it's me," I say as I walk up to her and give her a hug.
"How long has it been?" she asks as she pulls back and looks at me.
"Twenty years," I say with a smile.
"Wow, that's crazy. You look good," she says as she looks me up and down.
"You look good too," I say as I look her up and down.
"So, what are you doing here?" she asks as she takes a sip of her drink.
"I own the club," I say with a smile.
"Oh, wow. Congratulations," she says with a smile.
"Thanks. What about you? What are you doing here?"
"I'm just here with some friends. We were celebrating my birthday," she says as she holds up her glass.
"Oh, happy birthday. How old are you now?"
"Forty-two," she says with a laugh.
"You're still young," I say as I take a sip of my drink.
"I know. So, what have you been up to all these years?" she asks as she looks at me with curiosity in her eyes. "Oh, just working and taking care of my family," I say as I look away from her for a moment and see Olivia across the room.
She is looking at me with anger in her eyes.
I turn my attention back to Monica.
"That's great. I'm glad to hear that you're doing well," she says with a smile.
"Yeah, me too. So, do you have any kids?"
"No, not yet. But maybe someday soon," she says with a smile.
"That's great. Well, it was good seeing you again, Monica. Maybe we can catch up sometime soon?"
"Yeah, that would be great. Let me give you my number," she says as she pulls out her phone and starts typing away on it.
I hand her my phone so that she can input her number into it.
As soon as she is done, she hands it back to me and smiles at me again. "It was good seeing you too, Mohamed. Let's definitely keep in touch."
"Sure, I'd like that," I reply, pocketing my phone.
I walk back to my office and sit down at my desk.
Patrick follows me and sits down in the chair across from me.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I say as I look up at him.
"So, what's going on?"
"Monica is back in town," I say as I lean back in my chair and look at him.
"Monica? As in Monica Hoang?" he asks with a surprised expression on his face.
"Yes, that's the one."
"Wow, that's crazy. I didn't think she would ever come back to New York," he says as he leans back in his chair and looks at me.
"I know. But she's here now and she wants to see me again," I say as I look down at my desk.
"Well, what are you going to do?" he asks as he leans forward in his chair and looks at me with concern in his eyes.
"I don't know yet. I need some time to think about it," I say as I look up at him.
"Okay, well, just be careful. You know how much you suffered after you broke up with her in high school," he says as he stands up and walks over to the door.
"I know. But we're both adults now and we can handle this situation better than we did back then," I say as I stand up and walk over to him.
"Yeah, but you have a lot more responsibilities now too. You have a wife and kids to think about," he says as he looks at me with concern in his eyes.
"I know. But I can handle this situation. Don't worry about me," I say as I put my hand on his shoulder and smile at him.
"Okay, just be careful," he says as he turns around and walks out of the room.
I sit back down in my chair and look at the phone number that Monica gave me.
I pick up my phone and dial a number.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Patrick. It's me," I say as I lean back in my chair and look at the ceiling.
"What's up?"
"I just found out that Monica is an FBI Assistant United States Attorney," I say as I sit up in my chair and look at the phone.
"Really? That's crazy. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know yet. But we need to keep an eye on her and make sure that she doesn't find out about our business," I say as I lean back in my chair and look at the ceiling again.
"Yeah, you're right. We can't let her find out about our business. We need to be careful," he says as he leans back in his chair and looks at the ceiling too.
"Okay, I'll talk to you later," I say as I hang up the phone and sit up in my chair.
I walk over to the computer and turn it on.
I open up a program that allows me to see all of the security cameras in the club.
I scroll through them until I find one that shows Monica talking to some people at the bar.
I watch her for a few minutes before I turn off the computer and walk over to the window.
I look out at the city and think about what Patrick said.
I need to be careful and make sure that Monica doesn't find out about our business. I am sitting at my desk, looking at the security footage from Truth nightclub on my computer screen.
The footage is from last night, and it shows Monica talking to some people at the bar.
She looks like she is having a good time, but I can tell that she is also investigating us.
She keeps looking around the club, taking note of everything that is going on.
I can see her talking to some of the bartenders and waitresses, asking them questions about our business.
She is very good at her job, but she has no idea who she is dealing with.
I am Mohamed Abdi, a 38-year-old genius businessman and gangster in New York.
I have dark skin and black dreadlocks hair, and I am leading a double life as a legitimate businessman and a ruthless gangster and drug kingpin.
I hear a knock on the door, and Olivia walks in with a stern look on her face.
"Who was that woman you were talking to at the bar?" she asks, crossing her arms.
"Just an old friend from high school," I reply, trying to sound casual.
"Okay," she says, nodding.
"I'm going to go home now. I'll see you later."
"Alright, bye," I say as she leaves my office.
I stand up and walk over to the mirror that is hanging on the wall.
I adjust my tie and make sure that my suit is straight.
I walk back to my desk and pick up my phone.
I see a text message from Monica asking me to meet her at her hotel bar.
I walk out of my office and make my way through the VIP section of Truth nightclub.
I nod to the security guards as I pass by them, and then I slip out the back entrance.
The city lights reflect off the black paint of my Mercedes as I drive through the streets.
I am thinking about how I am going to manipulate Monica into falling in love with me again.
She is an FBI Assistant United States Attorney who investigates drug crimes, so I know that she is smart and determined.
But I am also smart and determined, and I know how to get what I want. I pull up in front of the upscale hotel where Monica is staying and park my car.
I walk inside and make my way to the bar.
Monica is sitting at the bar nursing a martini, wearing a red dress that shows off her curves.
I walk over to her and slide onto the barstool next to her.
"What can I get you?" asks the bartender.
"Scotch neat," I reply, looking over at Monica.
She smiles at me and raises her glass in a toast.
"To old times," she says, clinking her glass against mine.
"To old times," I repeat, taking a sip of my drink.
"So, how have you been?" she asks, turning towards me on her stool.
"I've been good. Just busy with work," I reply, looking into her eyes.
"Yeah, me too. It's hard being an FBI Assistant United States Attorney," she says with a sigh. "But it's worth it in the end. We are making a difference in people's lives," she continues, smiling at me again.
"That's true. But sometimes it feels like we are fighting a losing battle," I say, taking another sip of my drink.
"I know what you mean. But we can't give up. We have to keep pushing forward and doing what we believe in," she says, putting her hand on my arm.
Her touch sends shivers down my spine as memories of our past flood through my mind.
I lean in closer, knowing that this time, the stakes are higher than ever.
In the dimly lit hotel bar, the sound of clinking glasses and muted conversations fills the air.
Monica's breathing changes as our hands touch, her eyes never leaving mine.
The bartender polishes a glass with a white cloth, oblivious to the tension between us.
The soft hum of the refrigerator in the background and the occasional laughter from another table create a soothing melody.
But all I can focus on is Monica's lips, her words hanging in the air like a promise.
I slide my chair closer to hers, pretending that I need to hear her better over the ambient jazz music playing in the background.
As I lean in, her scent envelops me, transporting me back to our high school days.
We sit across from each other, reminiscing about old times.
Our conversation flows effortlessly, like a well-rehearsed dance.
We laugh and joke, sharing stories about our lives since high school.
As the night wears on, our knees touch under the table, sending a familiar warmth through my body.
Monica's hand brushes against mine as she leans in to speak, her eyes locked on mine.
The tension between us builds slowly, like a gentle crescendo.
I can see the conflict in her eyes, the internal struggle to resist the pull between us.
But I know that it's only a matter of time before we give in to our desires.
As the night wears on, our words become laced with double meanings.
We flirt shamelessly, teasing each other with suggestive comments and playful touches.
The air is electric with anticipation, and I can feel the heat building between us. Finally, I can't resist any longer.
I lean in and capture her lips with mine, rekindling the old flame that never truly went out.
Our kiss is passionate and intense, filled with years of pent-up desire.
I pull back slightly, looking into her eyes as we both catch our breath.
"Wow," she says softly, her voice barely audible over the music playing in the background.
"Yeah," I reply, smiling at her as I run my fingers through her hair.
"I've missed you," she says, leaning in closer to me again.
"I've missed you too," I admit, feeling the weight of the years between us dissolve.
"But what are we doing here, Mohamed?" she asks, her voice tinged with both curiosity and caution.
"We're just two old friends catching up," I say, though we both know it's much more complicated than that.
I lean in closer, our bodies almost touching.
The soft jazz music fades into the background as I reach out and gently tuck a loose strand of her dark hair behind her ear.
Her breath catches at my touch, and I can feel the familiar spark between us.
The scent of her perfume fills my senses, transporting me back to stolen moments in high school hallways.
She closes her eyes briefly, and I notice her grip tightening on the martini glass in her hand.
The air between us thickens with unspoken desires, despite the danger that hangs over us like a shadow.
I walk beside Monica down Fifth Avenue, the sounds of the city fading into the background as we share hot dogs from a street vendor.
Her laughter echoes through the air as a drop of mustard lands on her blazer, leaving a small stain.
We enter the grand halls of the Met, our footsteps echoing off the marble floors.
We wander through the Greek and Roman galleries, where ancient statues stand watchful and silent.
The air is thick with history and art, but my focus remains on Monica.
We pause in front of a stunning fresco, its colors vibrant against the white walls.
Monica's eyes light up as she reads the description, her voice filled with wonder.
I watch her closely, taking in every detail of her expression.
As we continue our journey through the museum, we find ourselves at the foot of a familiar stairwell.
The same spot where we shared our first kiss as teenagers.
I remember how her braces caught my lip, how Mrs. Peterson gasped in shock when she found us.
The memory brings a smile to my face, and I turn to see Monica's reaction.
Her eyes are wide with recognition, and she takes a step closer to me. The scent of her perfume fills my nose, and I can feel her warmth radiating towards me.
We lean in closer, our lips almost touching once more.
But just as we are about to reconnect, her phone rings loudly in her purse.
"I have to go," she says, her voice tinged with regret.
"I'm sorry, I have to get back to work."
She kisses me on the cheek and hurries away, leaving me alone in the museum.
I stand there for a moment, replaying our encounter in my mind.
I return to Truth nightclub and make my way to my office.
Patrick is already there, counting stacks of cash on my desk.
He looks up as I enter and nods in greeting.
"Hey, boss," he says, gesturing to the money.
"We're doing well this month."
I nod, taking a seat behind my desk.
"That's good to hear. What's the plan for expanding our operations?"
Patrick leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.
"We've been talking to some new gangs in Brooklyn and Queens. They're interested in working with us."
I nod, considering the possibilities.
"That's good. We need to expand our reach if we want to stay ahead of the competition."
Patrick nods in agreement.
"I've also been looking into some new ways to increase our profits. We could start selling more expensive drugs, or find ways to cut costs on production."
I lean forward, intrigued by his ideas.
"Tell me more," I say, leaning back in my chair.
As Patrick explains his plan, I can't help but think about Monica.
The way she kissed me on the cheek at the museum still lingers in my mind. Patrick notices my distraction and clears his throat.
"Is everything okay, boss?" he asks, concern etched on his face.
I shake my head, refocusing on the task at hand.
"Yes, everything is fine. Let's focus on the business."
Patrick nods, understanding in his eyes.
"Of course. Where were we? Ah yes, increasing profits."
As we continue discussing our plans for expansion and growth, I can't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment.
We've come a long way since our humble beginnings, and I know that with Patrick by my side, we can achieve anything we set our minds to.
But despite all of our success, I can't shake the feeling that something is missing.
And as I look at Patrick, I know that he feels it too.
I sit in our warehouse in Long Island, counting stacks of cash with Patrick.
We've just finished a big sale and are planning our next move.
"We need to expand our operations," I say, looking at the piles of money.
"We can't keep relying on the same old routes."
Patrick nods, agreeing with me.
"I've been thinking about that. We need to get into Brooklyn and Queens. There's a lot of demand there."
"Okay, let's do it. Who do we know in those areas?"
I ask, pulling out my phone to make some calls.
Patrick thinks for a moment before responding.
"There's a guy named Tony who runs a crew in Brooklyn. He might be interested in working with us."
"Alright, set up a meeting with him. And what about Queens?"
"There's a guy named Marcus who runs a crew there. He's been asking about working with us for a while now."
"Okay, let's set up a meeting with him too," I say, making another note on my phone.
As we continue discussing our plans for expansion, I can't help but think about Monica again.
The memory of her kiss at the museum keeps playing over and over in my head.
But I know that I need to focus on business right now.
We can't afford to get distracted. After we finish counting the money, we load it into bags and put it into a safe.
Then we start loading the drugs into a van to take them to our dealers across the city.
As we work, Patrick mentions that he thinks we should increase our supply to meet the growing demand in Manhattan.
I nod in agreement and tell him to go ahead and make the arrangements.
After we finish loading the van, we get ready to leave.
I check my phone one last time before we head out, making sure that everything is taken care of.
As we drive away from the warehouse, I feel confident that our business is going well and that we're making good decisions for its future.
But as the city lights blur past, I can't shake the feeling that Monica's shadow looms larger than any deal we've ever made.
After leaving the warehouse, I drive my Mercedes to a secluded spot near the East River.
The city lights reflect off the water as I park and pull out my burner phone.
I hesitate for a moment before dialing Monica's number.
The ringtone echoes in the quiet night air as I wait for her to answer.
Finally, on the third ring, her soft voice fills my ear.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's me," I say, my voice low and steady.
"Oh, hi," she replies, her tone cautious.
"What's up?"
"I was thinking we could meet up tomorrow night," I suggest, glancing at the dark water below.
"Maybe grab dinner?"
There's a pause on the other end of the line before she responds.
"Okay, sure. Where were you thinking?"
I run my hand through my hair, considering the options.
"There's a small Italian place in Brooklyn that's pretty good. It's far enough from both Truth and the federal building."
"Sounds good to me," she says, her voice a little softer now.
"What time?"
"How about 8 o'clock?" "Okay, I'll meet you there."
We exchange a few more pleasantries before hanging up.
As I end the call, I notice a black SUV slowly passing by on the street above.
Its tinted windows make it impossible to see who's inside, but something about its presence feels off.
I tuck my burner phone back into my pocket and glance down at my wedding ring glinting in the dim light.
For a moment, Olivia's face flashes through my mind, but I push the thought away and slide the ring off my finger.
"Monica, you know this isn't just a casual dinner," I say, my voice betraying the seriousness of the moment.
"I know, Mohamed," she replies, her voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. "But we need to be careful; there's more at stake now than just us."
After sending the text to Monica, I walk through Truth's VIP section, nodding at familiar faces and checking on the security cameras.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see Olivia's name flashing on the screen.
I silence the call and tuck the phone away, focusing instead on the stack of invoices from our new Brooklyn suppliers.
Patrick enters with a newspaper in his hand, tossing it onto my desk.
The headlines scream about recent drug busts in Queens, a stark reminder that we need these new territories more than ever.
My phone lights up again with Monica's reply: "Me neither. Just like old times."
I slip it back into my jacket pocket, ignoring another call from Olivia.
I lean back in my leather office chair at Truth, staring at the phone screen.
After sending the text to Monica, I watch the three dots appear as she types her response.
The security feed flickers on the monitor, showing Olivia entering the main floor of the club.
But I keep my eyes fixed on the message thread.
When Monica's reply finally comes through - a simple heart emoji - my pulse quickens.
I quickly delete our conversation and slip the phone into my suit pocket.
Through the office window, I spot Olivia approaching, her face tense.