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MidReal Story
The Billionaire Rebirth
Scenario:Shane Weber has led a hard broken life, a poor orphan, and his girlfriend is leaving him for a more richer prospect. But his fortune is about to change dramatically. Shane inherited immense wealth from his grandfather, shocking everyone. He was the heir to the only multi-googolaire family in the world. He endures constant criticism and judgment from those around him. He vowed that those who labeled him a failure would eventually bow at his feet. 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, Shane will get revenge on those who mistreated him? Will he succeed?
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Shane Weber
He is a former orphan who was raised in foster care, discovering he is the heir to a multibillion dollar inheritance. He is resilient, determined, and proud. Shane faced a harsh childhood, being labeled as a "failure" by those around him, including his cruel foster mother and her husband. His life takes a dramatic turn when he learns of his grandfather's vast wealth. Despite years of judgment and belittling, Shane thrives on his new status, embracing his newfound power and influence.
David
He is Shane's coworker in the same office building where his secret inheritance unfolds. He is sarcastic, judgmental, and dismissive. David mocks Shane's background and is surprised upon learning of the inheritance. His attitude reflects widespread ignorance and class bias. Despite this, Shane offers him a job at his new company, symbolically extending an olive branch of friendship and acceptance, despite David's lack of understanding or empathy towards Shane's past.
Sophia
She is Shane's exgirlfriend who left him for someone wealthier. She is selfish, superficial, and materialistic. Sophia initially dated Shane to benefit from his potential connection to his wealthy family. When Shane's true heritage is revealed, she quickly seizes the opportunity to be with him, showing no genuine affection or appreciation for who he is beyond his new status. Her actions highlight her shallow relationship with Shane and her desire for social advancement.
My girlfriend left me for a richer guy.
I was an orphan, a foster kid.
I didn’t even have a proper family.
But then I got a call from a lawyer.
My life was about to change.
"You’re the grandson of Alexander Weber, the richest man in the world."
I was in shock.
My whole life, I had been told I was a failure.
Now it turned out I was the heir to multibillion dollar inheritance.
Those who had called me a failure, would soon be bowing at my feet.
I would get my revenge, and it would be sweet.
"Shane, I’m leaving you for David. He has a better future than you."
Sophia said to me as she packed her bags.
I didn’t argue with her.
I knew she was only staying with me because of my connection to my wealthy family.
Although I had never met my grandfather or his family, I knew they were wealthy beyond imagination.
But I didn’t care that Sophia was leaving me.
I had long accepted that my life wasn’t as good as others.
I sit at my cramped desk in the office, staring at my phone screen long after the call from the lawyer has ended.
Around me, the usual office bustle continues—keyboards clicking, printers humming, David’s obnoxious laugh echoing from the break room.
My hands are trembling.
The words of the lawyer keep repeating in my head: "sole heir," "immediate transfer of assets," "private jet waiting for you."
A notification pops up on my phone, an email confirmation of the new bank balance.
The numbers blur before my eyes, more zeros than I’ve ever seen.
I hear Sophia’s heels clicking down the hallway.
She passes by my cubicle without a glance, arm linked with David’s.
I smile, knowing that everything is about to change.
I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts, stopping at the names of the only three people who were there for me when no one else was.
Mike, who shared his lunch with me in the foster home when I had nothing to eat.
Jim, who gave me a couch to crash on when I was between jobs.
Marcus, who stood up for me when kids at school mocked my secondhand clothes.
My fingers hover over their numbers as the office chatter continues around me.
I need real friends to ground me before I get lost in this wealth.
Taking a deep breath, I create a group text: "Meet me at our usual dive bar tonight. I have something important to tell you."
I stare at the screen, watching as the "delivered" status appears under each name.
The office sounds fade into white noise as memories flood back: Mike splitting his sandwich with me when I was starving, Jim’s worn couch that saved me from sleeping on the streets, Marcus taking a punch meant for me in the schoolyard.
My fingers trace the edge of the lawyer’s business card in my pocket, the embossed letters feeling surreal against my fingertips.
Through my cubicle window, I see Sophia giggling at something David says near the water cooler.
It doesn’t sting like it used to.
Later that night at the bar, Mike raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip of his beer.
"So, what's this big news you dragged us out here for?" he asks, leaning forward with curiosity.
I take a deep breath and say, "I'm the sole heir to Alexander Weber's fortune."
I lean back in the wooden booth, watching their reactions unfold in slow motion.
Mike lets out a whistle that cuts through the bar's background chatter.
Jim just stares, his mouth slightly open.
Marcus fumbles with his beer bottle, the liquid sloshing over the rim onto the scratched table.
The neon beer signs cast shifting colors across their faces as they process what I've just said.
I pull out my phone, open the bank app, and slide it across the table.
Their heads bend together over the screen, shoulders touching as they squint at the string of zeros.
Jim finally breaks the silence, his voice low and incredulous, "So, you're telling us you're a millionaire now?"
Marcus shakes his head, still staring at the screen, "This is insane. What are you going to do with all this money?"
I shrug, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling the weight of their expectations, "Honestly, I just want to make sure we all get what we deserve."
In the dimly lit bar, I pull out the inheritance documents from my briefcase.
The papers detail the full scope of my wealth: 400 googol dollars, private islands scattered across oceans, a fleet of mega yachts, and countless properties worldwide.
My hands tremble as I unfold the papers, revealing a sleek blue Citibank card with a platinum W embossed in its center.
Mike reaches for the card but I pull it back, remembering the lawyer's warning about its unlimited spending power.
Marcus points to the list of properties, his finger stopping at a mansion in Monaco.
"Let's start by buying back our time," I say, feeling the weight of possibility settle around us.
In the dimly lit bar, I lean forward across our table sticky with beer rings, lowering my voice despite the classic rock playing overhead.
My three friends are still processing the inheritance news, their eyes wide and unfocused.
I pull out my phone and show them photos of my grandfather's Beverly Hills mansion - seven bedrooms, an Olympic pool, Martial arts Dojo, and a private theater/game room.
Mike's mouth drops open at the helicopter pad.
Jim keeps shaking his head in disbelief.
Marcus stays quiet, fidgeting with his empty glass.
I explain there's plenty of space for all of us, that I want my real friends close.
"Let's go home."
Back at my apartment, I help them pack essentials while my phone buzzes with notifications from the lawyer.
Mike stuffs his duffel bag with wrinkled shirts.
Jim carefully folds his work uniforms.
Marcus sits on my worn couch, still processing everything.
I pull up the private jet's schedule on my phone - it's fueled and waiting at the local airport.
The reality hits as I look around my cramped studio apartment one last time, remembering all the nights I spent here feeling worthless.
I close the door behind us, leaving the past in shadows.
Standing in the airport terminal, I check my phone as another message from the lawyer comes through, detailing the mansion's security protocols and staff.
Marcus helps Jim arrange our carry-on bags while Mike paces excitedly.
When Marcus hands me my jacket, our fingers brush and he holds my gaze a moment longer than necessary.
My heart races unexpectedly.
The private jet crew approaches, greeting us formally.
As we walk across the tarmac, Marcus falls into step beside me, our shoulders occasionally touching.
The jet's stairs lower and Marcus gestures for me to go first, his hand resting briefly on my lower back.
While settling into my leather seat, my phone buzzes with my lawyer's number.
Marcus pauses mid-sentence beside me as I answer.
The lawyer's voice is tense on the other end, explaining they've found another inheritance from my mother's cousin - a collection of rare artifacts worth millions.
I grip the armrest, remembering the cousin who visited me once at the foster home, bringing a silver pocket watch.
Mike and Jim lean forward from their seats, watching my expression change.
I lean closer to Marcus in the leather jet seat, our shoulders touching as I show him the text from my lawyer.
The list of artifacts includes rare paintings, ancient scrolls, and that silver pocket watch I thought was lost.
Marcus's eyes widen at the estimated values, but his hand finds mine when he notices my trembling fingers.
Behind us, Mike and Jim whisper excitedly about the jet's luxurious interior.
The flight attendant approaches with champagne, but I barely notice her.
I turn to face Jim and Mike in their plush leather seats, still holding Marcus's hand.
The jet's engines hum softly as I tell them about the artifacts - ancient scrolls worth millions, Renaissance paintings, and my old silver pocket watch.
Jim's eyes widen at the values while Mike whistles and shakes his head.
I pull up photos on my phone, showing them detailed images of each piece.
When I reach the pocket watch listing, my voice catches.
Marcus squeezes my hand tighter as I explain how my mother's cousin gave it to me during their only visit to the foster home.
The jet begins its ascent, and I realize this inheritance is more than just wealth; it's a key to my past and a future I never imagined.
While cruising at altitude, I excuse myself from my friends and move to the jet's private office compartment.
My hands tremble as I dial the lawyer's number, needing absolute clarity about this overwhelming inheritance.
Through the office's tinted windows, I see Marcus watching me with concern.
The lawyer answers on the first ring, his voice crisp and professional.
I press for specific details about the artifacts, especially the silver pocket watch.
He confirms its location in a Swiss vault, along with the paintings and scrolls.
After ending the call, I pull up the vault's location on my phone - a discreet facility in Zurich's banking district.
Marcus enters the office area, bringing me a glass of water.
I show him the details on my phone, explaining how that pocket watch is my only real family connection.
He suggests we divert the jet to Switzerland first.
I hesitate, thinking about our original plans to visit my mansion, but Marcus reminds me that I'm in charge now.
I press the intercom button and inform the pilot about our change in destination.
Marcus looks at me, his eyes filled with a mix of excitement and concern.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asks softly, squeezing my shoulder.
I nod, feeling a surge of determination. "It's time I face whatever's waiting for me there."
I grip the armrest as our jet begins its descent toward Zurich, my heart pounding against my chest.
Marcus sits beside me, his shoulder pressed against mine, offering silent support.
Mike and Jim are on the other side of the aisle, their faces pressed against the windows to catch the first glimpse of the city.
The jet dips lower, and through wisps of clouds, the buildings emerge - precise Swiss architecture against a backdrop of mountains and lakes.
The flight attendant's voice comes over the intercom, announcing our landing.
I pull out the vault documentation from my bag, double-checking the address one last time.
My hands tremble slightly as I read over the details about my mother's cousin's artifacts - ancient scrolls worth millions, Renaissance paintings, and that silver pocket watch.