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MidReal Story
The Multibillionaire Orphan Who Inherited In Innumerable Wealth
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 became a multiquadricillionaire after his grandfather's death. He is resilient, determined, and sarcastic. Kevin faced immense wealth and privilege but chose to live modestly. His exgirlfriend left him for someone richer, which motivated his financial success. Kevin inherited his grandfather's vast fortune, which included control of several governments and influential corporations. He has a complicated relationship with his father and seeks revenge on those who wronged him, especially his former employer, Eric Peters.
Robert
He is Kevin Kenmore’s butler. He is efficient, discreet, and experienced. Robert has served various highprofile families throughout his career and quickly adapts to Kevin’s unconventional lifestyle. He assists with household matters, such as managing the staff and handling personal errands for Kevin. With a stern demeanor, Robert provides stability in Kevin’s life by maintaining order and professionalism in the household, which is essential for supporting Kevin’s demanding schedule and needs.
Sophia
She is Kevin Kenmore's new assistant. She is professional, observant, and helpful. Sophia was hired to manage Kevin's household and business affairs. She is from a wealthy family but has practical experience handling high demands and eccentricities. Sophia assists Kevin in organizing his life and tasks, including handling requests from journalists. Her calm demeanor provides balance to Kevin's impulsive nature, and she helps maintain the smooth operation of Kevin's expansive enterprise.
I was once labeled the biggest loser.
My girlfriend dumped me for a richer guy, and I was left with nothing but a handful of dollars.
But little did they know, I was about to become one of the richest men in the world.
I had inherited my grandfather's wealth—something that nobody knew about.
He was one of the only Multi Quadrillionaires in the world, and I had just become his heir.
With my newfound wealth, I would get back at those who had wronged me and make them bow at my feet.
The story begins here...
I was an orphan and had been poor my entire life.
I had just enough money to scrape by, and my girlfriend dumped me for a guy who was ten times richer than me.
She said I would never be able to give her the life she deserved.
I tried to not let it bother me, but it was hard not to take it personally when someone you loved was leaving you for someone else, simply because they had more money than you did.
"You're too poor for me."
Those words cut deep into my heart and made me realize that I needed to get out of there and make a better life for myself.
I took the few dollars I had left and boarded a bus back to my hometown.
It was only then that I remembered my grandfather, whom I had never met before.
I stared out the grimy bus window, watching as the familiar streets of my childhood rolled by.
The letter from the estate lawyer felt heavy in my jacket pocket, and I couldn't help but wonder what it contained.
My grandfather had passed away, leaving behind a fortune that I had no idea existed.
I had always thought he was just a distant relative, someone who didn't care about me or my well-being.
But now, it seemed that he had left me something much more valuable than any amount of money.
As the bus rumbled along, I tried to imagine all the possibilities.
Would I invest in stocks and bonds?
Buy a fancy car and a big house?
Travel the world and see all the sights I had only read about in books?
Or maybe I would use it to start my own business, something that would allow me to pursue my passions and make a real difference in people's lives.
The possibilities were endless, and I couldn't wait to find out exactly how much money I had inherited. The bus pulled up at a stoplight, and I noticed a young mother struggling to carry her grocery bags onto the bus.
She looked frazzled and stressed, juggling her baby on one hip while trying to hold onto everything else with her other hand.
I recognized that look all too well; it was the same one I had seen on my own mother's face when she was struggling to make ends meet.
I remembered those long nights spent huddled together in our small apartment, listening to the sound of sirens blaring outside while she worked multiple jobs just to put food on the table.
It was hard growing up poor, but it taught me valuable lessons about resilience and determination.
And now, with this inheritance, I had the chance to change things for myself and for others like me.
The mother finally managed to get onto the bus, looking relieved but also exhausted.
I watched as she took a seat across from me, setting down her bags and gently rocking her baby back and forth. She caught my eye and gave me a tired smile, mouthing "thank you" before closing her eyes and resting her head against the window.
I smiled back at her and turned my attention to my phone, pulling it out of my pocket to start researching charitable foundations that focused on helping single mothers in need.
There were so many options out there, each one doing important work to support those who needed it most.
"Hey, you look like you've got a lot on your mind," the young mother said, opening her eyes and catching me off guard.
"Yeah, just thinking about how I might be able to help people like you," I replied, my voice filled with newfound purpose.
"Well, whatever it is, just remember that sometimes the smallest gestures can make the biggest difference," she said with a knowing smile.
The bus dropped me off near downtown, and I walked several blocks to the address listed on the letter.
My shoes were worn and scuffed, the soles barely holding together as I made my way down the cracked sidewalk.
The towering glass building loomed before me, its sleek design a stark contrast to the shabby streets that surrounded it.
I felt a twinge of self-consciousness as I stepped inside, my threadbare jacket and faded jeans standing out against the polished marble floor and gleaming steel elevators.
The receptionist looked up at me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, her perfectly manicured eyebrows arched in question.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice dripping with disdain.
"Yes, I'm here to see Mr. Morrison," I replied, pulling out the letter from my pocket and smoothing it flat on the counter.
Her expression changed instantly as she scanned the contents of the letter, her eyes widening slightly as she read my name. "Oh, you must be Mr. Kenmore" she said, her voice suddenly warm and welcoming.
"Please follow me."
She led me to a private elevator tucked away in a corner of the lobby, pressing a button that sent us soaring up to the top floor.
As we ascended, I couldn't help but steal glances at myself in the mirrored walls of the elevator.
This would be the last time anyone would see me looking this poor; soon I would be dressed in designer suits and living a life of luxury beyond my wildest dreams.
The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, revealing a massive mahogany-lined office with three lawyers seated behind a sprawling desk.
They rose in unison as I stepped into the room, their tailored suits and gleaming cufflinks a stark contrast to my own threadbare clothing.
The one in the middle, an older man with silver hair and a kind face, extended his hand with a warm smile.
"Mr. Kenmore, it's an honor to finally meet you," he said, his voice booming across the room.
I shook his hand firmly, feeling a surge of confidence wash over me.
"Thank you for seeing me," I replied, my voice steady and strong.
The three lawyers gestured for me to take a seat in one of the plush leather chairs arranged before them.
As I settled in, they returned to their own chairs and began rummaging through stacks of paperwork on their desk.
The older man pulled out a cream-colored envelope from a drawer and slid it across the polished mahogany surface towards me.
"Inside this envelope is a letter from your grandfather," he said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mystery.
I hesitated for a moment, then picked it up and carefully opened it, revealing a handwritten note.
As I read the first line, my heart skipped a beat: "To my dearest grandson, you have inherited more than just wealth—you have inherited a legacy."
The senior lawyer slid a thick folder across the mahogany desk, his eyes watching me intently as I read the letter.
My grandfather's words spilled out onto the page, describing a vast business empire that spanned multiple continents and industries.
He spoke of factories and real estate, investments and partnerships, painting a picture of a man who had built a fortune through hard work and shrewd decisions.
But it wasn't until I reached the final paragraph that my breath caught in my throat.
"I know you may be wondering why I never reached out to you before," he wrote.
"But know that I have always been watching over you from afar. And not just you—your father as well."
I felt my heart skip a beat as I read those words.
My father?
But that was impossible.
He had been gone since I was a child, leaving behind only a faint memory of his presence in my life.
I glanced up at the lawyers, who were exchanging knowing glances with one another.
The older man cleared his throat and leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine.
"Your father is alive," he said quietly.
"And he has been working as a janitor in one of your family's companies for years."
My hands trembled slightly as I set the letter down on the desk, my mind racing with questions and doubts. The other lawyers shifted uncomfortably in their seats, their expressions sympathetic but also guarded.
It was clear that they knew more than they were letting on, but they weren't willing to share everything just yet.
The silver-haired lawyer pulled out another folder from his stack and opened it up, revealing a detailed family tree printed on glossy paper.
He pointed to one branch of the tree, where a name was circled in red ink: James Kenmore.
"That's your father," he explained, his voice low and steady.
"He has been keeping tabs on both you and your mother from afar, even though he hasn't made contact in years."
I gripped the armrest of my chair tightly, my knuckles turning white with tension as I stared at the name printed on the page.
"Why didn't he ever reach out?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
The older lawyer sighed, glancing at his colleagues before answering. "There were... complications, and he believed it was safer for you if he stayed away."
"Safer?" I repeated, disbelief creeping into my tone.
The senior lawyer leaned forward in his chair, his fingers drumming against the desk as he spoke.
"Your family isn't just involved in businesses," he said quietly.
"We have connections with international intelligence agencies, and your father discovered some things that put him in danger."
He pulled out another document from his stack and slid it across the desk to me.
It was an article from the 1990s, detailing a scandal involving corrupt government officials and secret operatives.
My father's name was mentioned in the article as a key witness, but there was no mention of what happened to him after he came forward.
"He threatened to expose them," the lawyer continued, his voice low and serious.
"But they silenced him before he could. They killed your mother in a car accident. It wasn't an accident at all."
He slid a newspaper clipping across the desk to me, the headline screaming out: "Tragic Car Crash Claims Life of Young Mother."
I stared at the article, my hands shaking as I read the words.
It couldn't be true.
But deep down, I knew it was.
I looked up at the senior lawyer, my voice barely steady as I asked, "Where is he now?"
He nodded solemnly and pulled out a manila folder from his stack.
Opening it up, he spread several photographs across the desk in front of me.
They were surveillance photos, showing a man with gray hair and a weathered face.
He was dressed in a janitor's uniform, methodically mopping floors in an office building at night.
The time stamps on the photos were from last week.
"He works the night shift at Kenmore Tower," the lawyer explained, sliding a building access card across the desk towards me.
"Your grandfather kept tabs on him for years."
I picked up one of the most recent photos, studying the tired lines on my father's face.
The lawyer's voice cut through my thoughts, his words filled with caution.
"Be careful if you decide to approach him. He may not be ready to reconnect."
The senior lawyer slid a thick portfolio across the mahogany desk, its leather cover embossed with the family crest.
As I opened it, a stack of neatly organized pages spilled out, detailing the vast array of assets that now belonged to me.
I began flipping through them, my eyes scanning the listings of properties and investments.
Private islands in the Pacific, a fleet of mega yachts docked in Monaco, sprawling estates across six continents.
The numbers blurred together on the pages as I turned them, my mind struggling to comprehend the sheer scale of the wealth that had been left in my name.
Finally, I reached the last page: a simple balance sheet showing a single figure - 450 quadrillion dollars.
My hands trembled slightly as I set the portfolio down on the desk, my mind reeling with questions and doubts.
The senior lawyer leaned forward in his chair, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched me process this new reality. "Your grandfather was a shrewd businessman," he said quietly, his voice filled with admiration.
"He built an empire from scratch, and he left it all to you."
He paused for a moment before continuing.
"But there's something else you should know."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek blue card, its platinum K catching the afternoon light as he placed it on the desk in front of me.
"This is your grandfather's personal account," he explained, sliding an envelope across to me.
"It's been transferred into your name now."
I picked up the Citibank card and turned it over in my hand, running my finger over the raised lettering on its surface.
It felt impossibly heavy in my palm, as if it held not just money but also secrets and responsibilities that I had never imagined.
I took a deep breath, knowing that my life would never be the same.
I stood in my new penthouse suite, the access card still clutched in my hand as I stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the glittering city below.
Robert, my grandfather's loyal butler, bustled around me, helping me change into a simple white shirt and a pair of dark jeans.
The fabric felt coarse against my skin, a stark contrast to the tailored suits I had grown accustomed to.
But tonight, I needed to blend in with the shadows.
The janitor's uniform was hanging on the back of the door, its crisp folds a reminder of the disguise I would soon wear.
As I turned back to the window, my eyes fell on Kenmore Tower in the distance.
Its spire reached toward the evening sky like a shard of glass, its peak disappearing into the clouds.
Somewhere inside those towering walls, my father was mopping floors and sweeping away dust.
He had no idea that his son now owned that very building. "Here," Sophia said softly, stepping forward with a small stack of papers in her hand.
"This is your schedule for the night."
I took it from her and scanned it quickly - a detailed list of janitorial rounds on each floor, with specific rooms and areas marked for attention.
My father's usual route was highlighted in yellow on page three: 42nd floor, starting at 11:15 PM sharp.
I tucked the papers into my pocket and looked up at Sophia and Robert.
They were both watching me with a mix of concern and curiosity in their eyes.
"You don't have to do this," Sophia said quietly.
"But if you do, be careful."
I nodded silently and turned back to the window one last time before heading towards the door.
The city lights flickered in the reflection, but all I could see was the path I had to take.
I adjusted the scratchy gray uniform in the penthouse bathroom mirror, making sure the name tag read "Mike" instead of my real name.
The cleaning cart rattled and squeaked as I pushed it into the service elevator, my heart pounding against the rough fabric of the shirt.
Sophia's voice crackled through my earpiece, her words barely audible over the hum of the elevator.
"He's on the 42nd floor, just like his schedule says."
I nodded even though she couldn't see me, my mind racing with all the things I wanted to say.
The numbers ticked down on the display above the doors - 50, 45, 42.
When they finally slid open, I stepped out into a dark hallway lined with closed office doors.
At the far end, a lone figure was methodically mopping in slow, practiced strokes.
His shoulders were hunched and his movements were weary.
I took a deep breath and approached him, my voice barely above a whisper. "Dad?"
He paused mid-stroke, his grip tightening on the mop handle as he turned to face me. "Who are you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"It's me," I replied, my voice trembling slightly. "It's your son."
He stood there frozen, his weathered hands trembling at his sides.
The fluorescent lights overhead cast harsh shadows across his face, accentuating every line and wrinkle that had been etched into his skin over the years.
The janitor's uniform hung loose on his thin frame, and as he slowly circled me, studying my features with a mix of confusion and curiosity, I could see the weight of secrets he had carried for so long.
Through my earpiece, I heard Sophia's urgent whisper - "There are security cameras in the hallways. We need to move fast."
But I couldn't tear my gaze away from him.
He reached out a hand, hesitating just inches from my cheek.
And then I saw it - a small scar across his palm, shaped like a crescent moon.
My father's weathered hand feels rough in mine as I tug him toward the stairwell door, my heart pounding against my ribs.
He resists at first, his boots scraping against the polished floor, but I keep pulling.
Behind us, the elevator dings - night security doing their rounds.
Through my earpiece, Sophia's voice is a steady stream of updates: "Two guards approaching your floor... they're getting off on 42..."
I fumble with the keycard at the stairwell entrance, cursing under my breath as the magnetic strip fails to read.
My father glances nervously over his shoulder, his eyes widening as voices echo down the hallway.
My trembling hands finally get the keycard to work, and I yank my father through the heavy door just as the guards' voices become clear around the corner.
The metal latch clicks shut behind us, and I press my back against the cold concrete wall, holding my breath.
The emergency lights cast eerie shadows on the walls, making it seem like we're being watched by unseen eyes.
My father stands rigid beside me, his janitor's uniform rustling softly with each ragged breath.
Through the narrow window in the door, I watch as the guards' flashlight beams sweep across the empty hallway where we stood just moments before.
Sophia's voice is a steady murmur in my earpiece: "They're checking the elevator... now they're moving down the hall..."
I hold my breath as they pause outside the stairwell door, their voices muffled but urgent.
And then they move on, their lights fading into the darkness.
Sophia's voice crackles through again: "I'm tracking them on the security cameras. They're heading for the east stairwell."
I exhale slowly, my hand still clutching my father's wrist.
He looks at me with wide, frightened eyes, but doesn't pull away.
"Dad, we have to get out of here," I whisper urgently, glancing at the dimly lit stairs.
He shakes his head, his voice barely audible. "Why now, after all these years?"
"Because I found out what they did to you," I reply, my voice filled with a mix of anger and determination.