Prologue:
James King was living the dream. He was the James Bond of Sunset Valley - only instead of being a spy, he was a local representative of Sunset Valley. He had bought beachfront property, and contracted builders to construct his elaborately decorated beach house. Of course, since he was so rich, he would have to have a mansion by the beach - so he could probably get a yacht to pick him up on speed dial.
Mr. King was handsome, successful, charming, and proved to be very popular around the town - mainly with the women, though. At the age of only seventeen, he was a billionaire - inheriting money from his father's corporate empire after the plane crash overseas. He was always in the papers, he drove the fastest cars, threw the biggest parties, dated the prettiest women and had the wittiest humour. Yes, all in all, Mr. King was exactly just that - the King.
Of course, every king must have an heir - you see, James King wasn't the most subtle man, and was constantly interviewed about his latest affair. Not that he cared for subtlety - he enjoyed the attention. Needless to say, his public relations agent was constantly stressed out. Imagine how stressed the agent would've have been two years after the plane crash, when two women came forwards claiming that they were carrying James King's child; one was Jamie Jolina, a surgeon renown for her beauty and intellect. Needless to say, King accepted this woman's claim, and eventually managed to win custody of the baby two years after it's birth, improving his status as a 'family man'.
However, three days before Jamie Jolina's claim, another woman, Jane Riley, came forwards, claiming that she was carrying King's child. Jane Riley was a journalist. Well, she was a sort of journalist - a freelance writer. You know, the one who writes about the celebrities? Yeah, that type. Needless to say, this story wasn't given much coverage at first, but when King admitted the child was his (after a month of adamantly insisting it wasn't), the entire press industry boomed - exclusives, interviews - there was a 7-month adventure for the press, in which they would get pictures of the sonograms, and interview the parents about names. Eventually, the children were born - Jane Riley's first, and Jamie Jolina's second. Although, the difference was a matter of two days, so it didn't really matter which was born first.
Jamie Jolina named her son Samuel Paul King-Jolina, although this was changed to Samuel Paul King after James King won custody. Jane Riley, on the other hand, called her son Scott Damon Riley, after her father, Damon Riley, and her grandfather, Scott Hills.
Now, this is where I come in - I'm Scott Damon Riley. You see, my dad, James, never won custody of me, but it was shared custody, so I spent a lot of time around his as a kid. I never really enjoyed it though - when he wasn't working, he would insist on us playing football (I never really took to it, although Sam always did) and when he was working, I would have to spend time with my half-brother, which never turned out well - we would always fight. In my opinion, he would always start it. Anyway, I was sent to some fancy boarding school 'Smuggsworth' which I eventually got kicked out of, while Sam excelled at his Dribbledine Sports Academy. Anyway, when I was fifteen, I was caught graffitiing the side of the Town Hall - mainly because my dad had just been elected the Mayor, and I was generally pissed off at him. So, the police caught up with me, brought me back to my mum, my dad had a go at her, blah blah blah - eventually he came to the conclusion that we were more trouble than we were worth, so he sent us packing to Bridgeport for a couple of years. Basically, my mum got this big opportunity to be a lead reporter in some cultured country - Champs Les Sims. Anyway, she couldn't take me with her, so I was sent back to Sunset Valley, my hometown, to live with my dad and half-brother. Now that's where the real story begins...