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MidReal Story
The Billionaire Reborn
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 fortune. He is resilient, sarcastic, and determined. Shane faced a life of hardship, being labeled as a "failure" by those around him, including his abusive foster parents and a cheating girlfriend. After inheriting the wealth from his reclusive grandfather, he decides to use it to help others, creating a foundation for underprivileged children.
Alex
He is Shane's friend and confidant. He is supportive, straightforward, and optimistic. Alex stands by Shane despite knowing little about his past hardships. He provides an unfiltered perspective while being one of the first people Shane informs about the inheritance. Throughout their friendship, Alex continues to encourage Shane to use his newfound wealth responsibly and remains a source of companionship as Shane navigates his life changes.
Elizabeth
She is Shane's exgirlfriend who left him for someone wealthier. She is selfish, shallow, and manipulative. Elizabeth was one of the many people who wronged Shane by treating him poorly due to his background and financial situation. She constantly reminded Shane of his " failures" and eventually left him for someone more "successful." Her treatment of Shane is a catalyst for his transformation when he discovers his true inheritance.
I was an orphan, a poor one.
My life was hard, my foster parents were abusive.
I was called names, "failure", "loser", "good for nothing".
I even went hungry to school sometimes because I had no money for food.
I had no one to turn to, no one to care for me.
But all of that changed when I turned eighteen.
It was my birthday, and it was also the day my girlfriend left me for someone who had more money than me.
She cheated on me with a guy who was a billionaire's son.
That was the worst day of my life, but little did I know, it was also going to be the best day of my life.
"Shane, I'm sorry. I just can't be with you anymore. You're not the man I want," Elizabeth said as she packed her bags.
I stood there, motionless, as she continued stuffing clothes into her designer bag - the one I bought her with three months of my savings.
The sound of zippers and rustling fabric filled the silence between us.
I looked out the window and saw her new boyfriend's car, a Mercedes Benz, parked on the street below.
The metallic shine of the car mocked me, reminding me of what I couldn't give her.
My hands clenched into fists as I watched the car's engine purring smoothly.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my breaths coming out in short gasps.
Elizabeth brushed past me, her expensive perfume filling the air.
Without looking at me, she grabbed her purse and walked towards the door.
"Wait," I said, but it was too late.
She was already gone, leaving behind only the faint scent of her perfume and the echoes of her words.
I stood there, frozen in place, trying to make sense of what had just happened. My eyes fell on an envelope that lay on the coffee table.
It was addressed to me, with a return address that I didn't recognize.
I picked it up and examined it carefully.
The envelope was thick and heavy, and it felt important in my hands.
I turned it over and noticed that it had been sent by a lawyer's office.
My heart skipped a beat as I realized who it might be from.
I opened the envelope and pulled out a letter.
It was from my grandfather's lawyer, informing me that he had left me his entire fortune when he passed away.
I stared at the letter in disbelief, unable to comprehend what I was reading. My grandfather had been a billionaire, one of the richest men in the world.
He had made his fortune through his tech company, which he had built from scratch.
He was a self-made man who had never forgotten where he came from.
He had always been kind to me, even though we didn't see each other often.
He would send me money every now and then, and we would talk on the phone occasionally.
But I never thought that he would leave me his fortune when he died. The letter explained that my grandfather had left everything to me because he wanted to give me a chance to make something of myself.
He believed in me and wanted to help me achieve my dreams.
I felt a lump form in my throat as I read those words.
No one had ever believed in me before, no one had ever given me a chance.
I sat down at my grandfather's mahogany desk, the foundation paperwork spread out before me.
Each document represented a dream, a chance to make a difference in the lives of orphans like me.
Alex stood by the window, gazing out at the cityscape below.
"Any suggestions for the name of this charity?"
I asked him, my pen poised over the papers.
He turned to face me, his eyes narrowing in thought.
"How about 'Second Chances'?"
I nodded, liking the sound of it.
But then I thought of something better.
"Weber Second Chances," I said, a smile spreading across my face.
Alex grinned, clearly pleased with the name too.
"It's perfect," he said, clapping me on the back.
I signed my name on the last document, feeling a sense of pride and purpose wash over me.
This was just the beginning of something amazing, something that would change lives forever. The memories of those cold nights in foster care flooded back as I stared at the stack of paperwork on my desk.
Sleeping on a bare mattress with no blankets, shivering until dawn broke and another day began.
Those were nights that no child should ever have to endure.
But I had endured them, and they had shaped me into the person I am today.
As I looked at the documents before me, I knew that this was my chance to make a difference.
To give back to those who had been through what I had been through.
The foundation's mission was clear: to provide support and resources to orphans and underprivileged children.
To give them a second chance at life, just as my grandfather had given me when he left me his fortune. My pen hovered over the signature line as memories of my grandfather flooded my mind.
He had been a quiet man, but his presence had always been felt in my life even from afar.
He had never been overly demonstrative with his affection, but he had always believed in me.
He saw something in me that no one else did - potential.
And now, it was time for me to live up to that potential and make him proud. The memory of my foster mother's words echoed in my mind as I signed each document with determination.
"You're worthless," she would say every day, her voice dripping with venom.
"You'll never amount to anything."
But she was wrong.
Alex leaned against the desk, watching me intently.
"Do you think she'd believe it if she saw you now?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.
I looked up, meeting his gaze with newfound confidence.
"No," I replied firmly, "but it doesn't matter anymore."
I stare at the inheritance documents spread across the mahogany desk, my hands trembling as I process the numbers.
Four hundred and eighty googol dollars.
The amount is so vast it seems unreal.
I flip through pages listing private islands in the Caribbean, Mediterranean mega yachts, and penthouses in every major city.
Alex leans over my shoulder, whistling at the endless inventory of assets.
When I reach the last page, a sleek blue card slides out - a custom Citibank card with a platinum W embossed in its center.
I pick it up carefully, feeling its weight.
The same card I'd seen my grandfather use at our quiet dinners together, always paying discreetly.
I place the card in my wallet's main slot, replacing the worn debit card that Elizabeth once mocked.
Alex looks up from his phone.
"Want to celebrate?"
"Where?"
I ask, still marveling at the card.
"Same place where your ex dumped you last month."
I raise an eyebrow.
"You mean that fancy restaurant?"
"The one and only," he replies, grinning.
"Let's go."
We walk through the marble lobby of my grandfather's penthouse building, past the doorman who nods respectfully.
Outside, a chauffeur holds open the door of a sleek black Rolls-Royce.
The maître d', who sneered at my shabby clothes last month, greets us with a practiced smile.
"Right this way, gentlemen," he says, leading us through the bustling dining area to a private booth in the back.
As we sit down, I notice the maître d' hovering nervously near our table.
He clears his throat to get my attention. "Can I start you off with something to drink?" he asks, his tone polite but strained.
I glance at Alex, who shrugs.
"Sure," I say, turning back to the maître d'.
"We'll have two glasses of your finest champagne."
The maître d' nods and scurries off to place our order.
I turn to Alex and lean in closer.
"So, what do you think about converting one of these penthouses into a shelter for homeless youth?"
Alex raises an eyebrow.
"That's a great idea. But which one were you thinking of?"
I pull out my phone and scroll through the list of properties my grandfather left me.
"I was thinking of that one in Manhattan. It's got plenty of space and is close to public transportation."
Alex nods thoughtfully.
"That sounds perfect. But how much is it going to cost to renovate?"
I shrug.
"I'm not sure yet. I'll need to get some estimates from contractors. But I'm willing to spend whatever it takes to make it happen."
The maître d' returns with our champagne and sets it down in front of us.
He lingers for a moment, clearly waiting for us to order our food.
I glance at Alex and see that he's already perusing the menu. "What are you getting?" he asks me without looking up.
I scan the menu quickly and decide on something simple - a grilled steak with roasted vegetables.
I spread the architectural blueprints across my grandfather's mahogany desk, Penelope taking notes as I point out various areas.
The Manhattan penthouse spans 15,000 square feet, enough to comfortably house fifty kids.
Looking at the plans, I point out where we'll add bedrooms, study spaces, and a medical clinic.
Penelope suggests converting the rooftop into a garden where the kids can grow their own vegetables.
I nod in agreement.
"What's the estimated cost for all of this?"
I ask her.
She flips through her notes and stops on a page with a bold number: $30 million.
I don't hesitate.
"Approved," I say, signing the construction contract.
Tomorrow, we'll meet with contractors to begin demolition.
Alex leans back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face.
"You're really doing it," he says, admiration in his voice.
I nod, feeling the weight of the decision settle in.
I pick up my phone and scroll through the list of contractors Penelope compiled.
I settle on Morrison & Sons Construction, impressed by their portfolio of luxury buildings.
Dialing the number, I wait for someone to pick up.
"Good morning, Morrison & Sons," a secretary answers.
"Good morning," I reply, my voice confident.
"I'm calling to request a meeting with your team. It's urgent."
The secretary hesitates, clearly unsure about the sudden request.
"May I ask who is calling?"
"My name is Shane Weber," I say, using my grandfather's last name for the first time.
There's a pause on the other end of the line.
"Mr. Weber, we'd be happy to accommodate your request. When would you like to meet?"
"How about tomorrow at 8 AM?"
I suggest.
"That works perfectly. We'll see you then."
I hang up and text Alex, asking him to join us tomorrow.
His background in architecture will be invaluable in this project.
Opening my laptop, I review the shelter blueprints one last time, marking areas where I want extra attention - especially the security system and heating.
These kids won't spend cold nights like I did.
Alex glances over at me, his expression serious.
"Are you sure you're ready for this, Shane?"
I nod, determination in my eyes. "I've never been more certain about anything."
I sit at my grandfather's mahogany desk, surrounded by stacks of documents and blueprints for the shelter.
Tomorrow, I'll meet with the contractor to finalize the plans, and I want to make sure everything is perfect.
The blueprints are spread across the desk, marked up with notes about security cameras, keycard access, and emergency protocols.
My pen pauses over the section on the heating system.
Triple redundancy, backup generators, and individual room controls - these specifications are crucial.
I remember shivering under thin blankets, feeling the cold seep into my bones.
No one should have to endure that.
Penelope enters with a steaming cup of coffee and a folder full of additional cost estimates.
She sets them down next to me and waits as I review them methodically.
I nod in approval as I flip through the pages, satisfied with the numbers.
"Everything looks good," I say, handing her back the folder.
"Make sure to send these to Alex for his review."
"Yes, sir," she replies, jotting down a note on her pad.
"Oh, and Elizabeth has been trying to reach you through the company switchboard."
I frown slightly at the mention of her name.
"Block her number," I instruct Penelope.
"She's no longer a concern."
Penelope nods and makes another note before leaving me to my work. I turn my attention back to the blueprints, outlining key points for tomorrow's meeting with the contractor.
Security cameras must be installed in every corner of the shelter, with a central monitoring station in the main office.
Keycard access will be required for all rooms, including individual bedrooms and common areas.
Emergency exits must be clearly marked and easily accessible in case of a fire or other disaster.
I also make a note about the heating system again, emphasizing its importance.
Alex enters the room, glancing at the blueprints spread across the desk.
"Looks like you've got everything covered," he says, nodding at the detailed notes.
I look up, a hint of a smile on my face. "It's all coming together, but there's one more thing I need to discuss with you."
I lean back in my grandfather's leather chair, gesturing for Alex to take a seat.
He sits down, a curious expression on his face.
I reach out and hand him a letter, watching as he reads it carefully.
"So, I used to work for an architecture firm before I joined your grandfather's company," he begins, setting the letter down on the desk.
"I kept in touch with some of the guys there, and when you told me about this shelter project, I thought maybe they could help."
I nod, intrigued by where this is going.
Alex continues, "I pitched them the idea and they loved it. They want to contribute $5 million toward construction costs."
My first instinct is to decline - I have more than enough money to cover the expenses myself.
But something in Alex's expression stops me from saying so.
He spent weeks preparing this proposal, believing in this project just as my grandfather believed in me. I pick up the letter again, scanning it more closely this time.
The terms are clear: they want naming rights to the education wing of the shelter.
It's a fair request, considering their contribution.
I reach for my pen and sign the acceptance letter, handing it back to Alex.
"Thank you for doing this," I say, genuine gratitude in my voice.
Alex smiles and nods, tucking the letter into his pocket.
"No problem. I know how much this means to you."
Penelope enters with another stack of documents - contractor agreements and permits that need my signature.
I lean forward, methodically signing each one.
The stack covers the entire desk, and my hand cramps from initialing every page, but I keep going.
Alex sits beside me, reviewing the technical specifications for the shelter's foundation and electrical system.
Penelope organizes the signed papers into labeled folders.
When I reach the final document - the official construction timeline - I pause for a moment before signing my name with deliberate strokes.
I lean back in my leather chair and dial Morrison's number on speakerphone.
Alex continues to review the site plans spread across my desk, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Morrison answers on the first ring, his voice eager as he greets me.
"Mr. Weber, I'm glad you called. We're all set to move forward with the groundbreaking ceremony."
I nod, even though he can't see me.
"Good. When were you thinking?"
"Well, we were considering next Tuesday at 10 AM," he suggests.
"The press will want to cover this, especially since it's your first major project as the Weber heir."
I grip the phone tighter, remembering the media circus when my inheritance was announced.
"Next Tuesday works," I say curtly.
"Just make sure to limit the press access. This isn't about publicity; it's about the shelter."
"Understood, Mr. Weber," Morrison replies, his tone shifting to one of reassurance.
"I'll coordinate with our PR team to ensure it's a private event."
Alex looks up from the plans, catching my eye. "You know, this shelter is going to change lives."
I lean over the blueprints, tracing a path with my finger.
"The ventilation system needs to be top-notch. We can't have mold or mildew forming in the walls."
Alex nods, his own finger moving along the paper.
"Agreed. And we should consider adding a central air filtration system to keep the air quality high."
I point to a specific duct placement.
"See here? This could work if we angle it just right."
As I move my hand, I realize it's touching Alex's.
We both freeze.
The only sound in the office is the hum of the air conditioning and the distant chatter from outside.
Our eyes meet, and neither of us moves.
The easy camaraderie that usually fills the room shifts into something else entirely.
My heart pounds against my chest, and I can feel the heat radiating off Alex's skin.
Suddenly, there's a knock on the door, breaking the spell.
Penelope pokes her head in, oblivious to the tension.
"Mr. Weber, I have some more documents for you to sign."
I jerk my hand away from Alex's, straightening in my chair.
"Of course, Penelope. Come in."
Alex clears his throat and steps back from the desk, returning to his seat as if nothing happened.
Penelope enters with a stack of papers and sets them down in front of me. I force myself to focus on the documents, signing them mechanically as Alex continues discussing technical specifications with a forced casualness in his voice.
"The air filtration system should include HEPA filters to capture 99.97% of particles as small as 0.3 microns," he explains, pointing at various parts of the blueprint.
"And we should also consider installing UV light purifiers to kill any airborne pathogens."
I nod, trying to keep up with his words but struggling to concentrate.
Alex pauses, glancing at me with a hint of concern.
"Are you okay? You seem a bit distracted."
I take a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just a lot on my mind with the project and everything."
I spread the blueprints across my grandfather's mahogany desk, my finger tracing the flat roofline.
The empty space seems to call out for something more.
Alex leans in beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as I point to the southeastern exposure.
"This is where we can install solar panels," I explain, my voice steady despite the proximity.
"Not only will it reduce operating costs in the long run, but it'll also be a teaching tool for the kids. We can show them how renewable energy works."
Alex nods, already scribbling calculations on his notepad.
"Assuming an average of 300 days of sunshine a year here, we could cover at least half of the shelter's energy needs with solar power."
Penelope steps forward, her eyes scanning the blueprints.
"If we use high-efficiency panels, we could potentially save up to 75% on energy costs."
She pulls out her phone and scrolls through some documents.
"Let me see...based on current market prices, installing solar panels would add an extra $150,000 to $200,000 to the budget."
I wave my hand dismissively.
"Money isn't an issue here. This is about building something that will last."
I'm at my desk reviewing the quotes for solar panels when Penelope bursts in, waving a document in her hand.
"Mr. Weber, you won't believe this," she exclaims, barely containing her excitement.
I look up from the papers, slightly annoyed at the interruption.
"What is it?"
Penelope rushes over and drops the document on my desk.
"It's from the Department of Energy. They're offering a $250,000 renewable energy grant."
My eyes widen as I scan the document.
"This would cover the entire cost of the solar panels and installation."
Penelope nods vigorously.
"Yes! And there's more. I secretly submitted an application last month when I heard about this grant. It was a long shot, but I figured it was worth trying."
I glance at Alex, who's sitting in his usual chair by the window, a wide grin on his face.
He gives me a thumbs-up before returning to his work.
I turn back to Penelope, impressed by her initiative.
"Penelope, this is fantastic. How soon can we get the installation started?"
"Well," she says, "there are some conditions to the grant. We need to implement educational programs for the shelter residents, teaching them about solar power and its benefits."
"That's not a problem," I reply, already imagining the possibilities.
"We can incorporate it into their curriculum." Penelope smiles, clearly pleased with herself.
"I thought so too. The grant also requires us to share our findings with other organizations and communities. We'll need to track energy savings and provide regular reports."
I nod, signing the acceptance forms for the grant.
"Fine by me. Get in touch with the contractor and let them know we're moving forward with the installation."
As Penelope leaves my office, she pauses at the door.
"Oh, and Mr. Weber? The press will want photos of the solar panels once they're installed. We should coordinate with them for a photo op."
I look up from my paperwork, my mind already shifting to other tasks.
"That's fine, but make sure they don't take any photos of the kids without their consent. Privacy is paramount here."
Penelope nods, understanding the importance.
"Absolutely, I'll make sure they respect that," she assures me.
Alex looks up from his notes, his expression thoughtful.
"I have an idea," he says, leaning forward in his chair.
"Why don't we turn the solar panel installation into a celebration? We could set up educational demos and hands-on activities for the neighborhood kids to learn about renewable energy."
He pulls out a piece of printer paper and begins sketching a rough layout.
"We could have solar-powered toy cars racing across tables, interactive displays showing how energy is converted, and local science teachers giving workshops."
I lean back in my chair, considering the proposal.
"It's not a bad idea, but it would mean opening up the shelter to the public. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that."
Alex's face falls slightly, but he quickly recovers.
"I understand your concerns, but think about the bigger picture. This could be an opportunity to inspire other shelters and organizations to go green. And who knows, maybe some of these kids will become interested in STEM fields because of this."
I sigh, knowing he has a point.
"Fine, but make sure we have proper security measures in place. And no photos of the kids without their explicit consent."
Alex nods enthusiastically.
"Absolutely. I'll work with Penelope to coordinate everything."
As Alex leaves my office, I can't help but smile at his infectious energy.
Maybe this solar celebration will be just what we need to bring some excitement to the shelter. Penelope enters my office with a stack of documents in her hand.
"Mr. Weber, I've got the catering quotes and security plans for the solar celebration," she says, setting them down on my desk.
I glance at the papers, nodding as she explains each item in detail.
"The catering company has agreed to use only locally sourced ingredients and compostable materials," she says, pointing to one of the quotes.
"And for security, we've hired two additional guards to ensure everything runs smoothly."
I nod, satisfied with the arrangements.
"Good job, Penelope. How many people are we expecting?"
She checks her notes.
"About 50 neighborhood kids and their parents, plus a few local media representatives."
I frown slightly at the mention of media.
"Make sure they understand that no photos of the kids are allowed without explicit consent," I remind her.
Penelope nods vigorously.
"Yes, Mr. Weber. I've already made that clear to them."
I lean back in my chair as Alex enters the room.
He's carrying a large cardboard box filled with various materials.
Inside the box are solar-powered kits for the kids, each labeled with their names.
"Alex, I've been going through the list of potential speakers for the solar celebration," I say, gesturing to the stack of papers on my desk.
"We need someone who can engage the kids and make science accessible."
Alex sets down the box and pulls out his phone.
"I've got just the person in mind," he says, scrolling through some videos.
"Have you heard of Dr. Sarah Chen?"
I shake my head, intrigued.
"No, who is she?"
Alex smiles.
"She's a renowned physicist who's made it her mission to teach kids about science. She has a YouTube channel with millions of followers."
He starts playing one of her videos, and I watch as she effortlessly explains complex concepts in simple terms.
I'm impressed by her enthusiasm and ability to connect with her audience.
"Wow, she's great," I admit.
"But is she available to speak at our event?"
Alex nods.
"I've already reached out to her team. She's interested, but we need to cover her speaking fee."
He hands me a document with more information about Dr. Chen.
As I scan it, one particular detail catches my eye: "Dr. Chen grew up in poverty before discovering her passion for physics. She now runs a foundation that supports underprivileged kids in pursuing STEM careers." I look up at Alex, a sense of urgency in my voice.
"Get Penelope on the phone. We need to contact Dr. Chen's office immediately."
Alex quickly calls Penelope into my office, and we wait anxiously for her response.
After what feels like an eternity, Penelope finally gets off the phone and turns to us with a smile.
"Dr. Chen has agreed to speak at our event," she says triumphantly.
"But there's a catch."
My heart sinks slightly, anticipating bad news.
"What is it?"
Penelope hesitates before answering.
"Her speaking fee is $50,000."
I don't even blink at the price tag.
"That's fine," I say matter-of-factly.
"Write the check."
Alex looks at me in surprise but doesn't question my decision.
As Penelope leaves my office to finalize the arrangements, I turn back to Alex with determination in my eyes.
"This could be exactly what these kids need," I say firmly.
"Someone who understands their struggles and can inspire them to reach for something more."
Alex nods in agreement, his eyes shining with excitement.
"Dr. Chen's story could really resonate with them," Alex says, his voice filled with hope.
"And maybe it'll encourage some of the kids to pursue their own dreams," I reply, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.
Penelope re-enters the room, her phone still in hand.
"I've got Dr. Chen's team on the line," she says, looking at us expectantly.
I lean back in my leather chair, considering the timeline.
"We'll need to finalize the event schedule soon," I say, glancing at Alex, who's reviewing the list of speakers beside me.
The shelter's main hall can fit two hundred people, but we'll need to coordinate security, catering, and the solar kit assembly stations.
Penelope suggests setting up demonstration areas where Dr. Chen can show practical applications of solar energy.
"We could also invite some local school science teachers to help facilitate the workshops," she adds.
Alex nods in agreement.
"That's a great idea. We should reach out to them as soon as possible."
I lean back in my leather chair, reviewing the final guest list for Dr. Chen's presentation.
Alex approaches my desk, pointing to a few locations on the shelter blueprint where we could set up the demonstration areas.
His fingers brush against mine as he leans in, and the familiar tension creeps back into the room.
"We'll need to make sure the kids have enough space to move around," he says, his voice low and smooth.
I nod, trying to focus on the papers in front of me.
"Agreed. Let's add another demonstration area near the entrance."
Alex remains close, his shoulder pressed against mine as we review the layout together.
The warmth of his body makes it difficult to concentrate on anything else.
Penelope knocks softly on the door and enters with a stack of catering contracts.
"Mr. Weber, I've got the final quotes from the catering companies," she says, setting them down on my desk.
Alex doesn't move away from me, even though there's no longer a reason for him to be so close.
I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure.
"Thanks, Penelope. We'll review these and make a decision by the end of the day."
Alex finally steps back, giving me a knowing smile.