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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 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.
Jared
He is Shane's childhood friend who remained supportive throughout his hardships. He is loyal,kindhearted,and understanding. Jared stood by Shane despite facing similar challenges growing up in an impoverished neighborhood. As Shane rises from poverty to wealth,Jared remains a constant figure of friendship and stability. Their shared history and loyalty anchor their relationship,providing a sense of belonging and grounding amidst the whirlwind of change.
Morgan
She is Shane's new assistant tasked with organizing his social life and affairs. She is professional,efficient,and charismatic. Morgan quickly gains Shane's trust and helps him navigate his new life as the inheritor of the multibillion dollar estate. With her guidance,Shane begins to embrace his newfound status and sets out to reclaim lost opportunities and opportunities,showcasing her essential role in his transformation.
I was an orphan, raised in foster care.
My girlfriend left me for a guy who had a brighter future.
I was labeled a failure by those around me.
But little did they know, my life was about to take a drastic turn.
I was the heir to the only multi-googolaire family in the world.
And once I claimed my inheritance, no one would ever be able to bring me down again.
My name is Shane Weber, and this is my story.
"Baby, I'm sorry. I just can't do this anymore. I thought your grandfather's money would have come by now, but since it hasn't, I can't stick around to see if it actually will," Sophia said as she looked at me with tears in her eyes.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
This was the girl I loved, and she was leaving me for someone who had more money?
What a fucking cunt!
"You're really that shallow, huh? You're willing to leave me for someone who has a brighter future? Someone who has money now?" I asked her as I shook my head at her.
This wasn't the girl I thought I knew.
This wasn't the girl I fell in love with.
"I'm sorry, Shane. It's not like I have a choice or anything. My parents are forcing me to marry this guy. If I don't, they will cut me off from the family fortune," Sophia said as she bit her lip.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
I stood there as she grabbed her designer purse and jacket.
She looked at me one last time before she walked to the door.
She stopped when she got to the door and turned around to look at me.
Her mascara was running down her cheeks as she stared at me.
The same door that we had walked through together countless times over the last two years.
The same door that I had carried her through when I took her on a surprise trip to Paris.
My hands clenched into fists as I watched her turn around and stare at me with tears in her eyes.
I knew what she was expecting.
She was expecting me to beg her to stay, but I wasn't going to do that.
I wasn't going to beg anyone to stay with me.
If they wanted to leave, then I would let them leave. I turned away from the door and walked over to the window.
I stared out at the gray cityscape as I listened to Sophia's heels click against the wooden floor of my apartment.
I heard her stop behind me, and I knew that she was probably staring at me right now, waiting for me to turn around and beg her not to leave me.
But I wasn't going to do that.
Instead, I kept staring out the window as the afternoon shadows stretched across the city below me.
"I'm sorry, Shane. I really am," Sophia said softly from behind me.
I didn't respond to her.
I just kept staring out the window as I listened to her heels click against the floor again.
This time, they were getting farther and farther away from me until they finally stopped at the door again. "Goodbye, Shane," Sophia said softly before she opened the door and walked out of my apartment for good.
I heard the door close behind her with a final click, and then there was silence.
I stood there, letting the silence envelop me, until a voice broke through my thoughts.
"Shane, you know this is your chance to start fresh," said Marcus, my best friend, who had been quietly watching from the corner.
"Yeah, maybe it's time to show everyone what you're really capable of," he added with a determined nod.
I paced the worn carpet of my studio apartment, Marcus's words echoing in my mind.
The inheritance paperwork sat untouched in my desk drawer, where it had been since the lawyer contacted me last month.
My hands shook slightly as I pulled out the thick manila envelope.
The official letterhead of Wellington & Associates stared back at me, along with the mind-numbing figure: $157 billion.
I spread the documents across my scratched coffee table while Marcus watched silently from his perch on the couch.
My signature would change everything - my life, my status, my power.
I hover the pen over the signature line, studying the precise legal language one final time.
Marcus leans forward on my worn couch, his eyes fixed on the papers spread across the coffee table.
The ceiling fan clicks steadily overhead as I process the weight of this moment.
With deliberate strokes, I sign "Shane Weber" on each marked line, the cheap ballpoint pen leaving dark impressions on the crisp documents.
The familiar signature looks strange against the formal letterhead of Wellington & Associates.
Marcus exhales sharply when I finish the last page.
I slide the signed papers back into the manila envelope, my hands steadier now that the decision is made.
Standing up from the coffee table, I walk to my worn leather messenger bag hanging by the door.
Marcus follows, his footsteps quiet on my creaky floor.
I tuck the envelope securely inside the bag's main compartment, double-checking the zipper.
The weight of the documents feels different now, like I'm carrying more than just paper.
"We should head to Wellington's office before they close," I tell Marcus, grabbing my keys from the hook.
I lock my apartment door, double-checking it out of habit even though I might never set foot in this rundown building again.
Marcus and I descend the creaky stairs, passing Mrs. Chen on the second floor.
She's always complained about my late rent payments.
She gives me her usual disapproving look as we pass, but I just nod.
Soon she'll learn who I've become.
The smell of exhaust fumes and hot garbage hits me as we step outside.
I start walking toward the bus stop, but Marcus grabs my shoulder.
"Not anymore," he says, pulling out his phone to call an Uber Black.
"Shane, you realize this changes everything, right?" Marcus says, his voice a mix of excitement and caution.
"Yeah, but I'm not sure I'm ready for what comes next," I admit, glancing at the bustling street around us.
"You've got this," Marcus reassures me, "and besides, you won't be doing it alone."
I sit in the plush leather chair across from Mr. Wellington, the scent of old books and polished wood filling the room.
He spreads out document after document on the mahogany desk between us.
My hands shake slightly as I flip through page after page detailing my inheritance.
Private islands in the Caribbean, a fleet of mega yachts, and sprawling estates across six continents.
The numbers blur together, but one stands out - 450 googol dollars in total assets.
Mr. Wellington slides a sleek blue Citibank card toward me.
The platinum W gleams under the office lights.
When I pick it up, its weight feels significant in my palm.
Marcus whistles softly beside me.
I take a deep breath, knowing that today marks the beginning of a life I never imagined.
I stare at the platinum card in my hand while Marcus pulls up private jet schedules on his phone.
Mr. Wellington explains that my grandfather's Gulfstream G650 is fueled and waiting at Teterboro Airport, staffed with a full crew.
When I hesitate, Marcus reminds me that my cramped studio apartment holds nothing worth staying for.
My mind drifts to the stack of unpaid bills on my kitchen counter and Sophia's lingering perfume in my closet.
I nod slowly, and Mr. Wellington makes a quick call.
Within minutes, a black Maybach pulls up outside the office.
I turn to Marcus in the back of the Maybach, watching his eyes widen at the hand-stitched leather interior.
The privacy partition slides up with a soft hum as our driver pulls away from Wellington & Associates.
Marcus runs his fingers over the polished wood trim, still processing everything that's happened.
"Are you ready?" he asks, glancing at me.
I let out a short laugh and shake my head.
"Ready for what? Private jets? Billion-dollar deals?"
I pull out the platinum card, its weight unfamiliar in my hand.
Marcus's face flushes slightly as he looks at the card.
The privacy partition rises higher, enclosing us in our own private world.
The leather seats creak softly as I shift closer to Marcus, our shoulders touching.
Outside, the city lights flash across his face - the sharp line of his jaw, the dark stubble, those eyes that have watched over me through every late night and early morning.
My hand trembles, but not because of the papers or the money.
It's something else entirely.
I lean back, my heart pounding in my chest.
The city lights dance across the interior, casting shadows on Marcus's face.
The privacy partition remains up, creating an intimate bubble around us.
Marcus turns to face me, his expression open and attentive as always.
The platinum card feels heavy in my pocket, but the weight of what I have to say is even heavier.
I shift slightly, my knee brushing against his.
The familiar scent of his cologne fills the space between us.
My hands grow clammy against the leather seats as the words build in my throat.
The soft hum of the privacy partition fades into the background, leaving only the muffled sounds of traffic outside.
Marcus shifts beside me, his shoulder still pressed against mine.
I catch a glimpse of his reflection in the tinted window - the sharp angles of his face, the intensity in his eyes.
The platinum card feels cold in my pocket, a reminder of how much has changed today.
Yet here in this moment, watching his familiar profile, I realize what hasn't changed: my feelings for him.
I turn to face him directly, our eyes meeting in the dim light of the car.
"Marcus, there's something I need to tell you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes search mine, a flicker of concern crossing his features.
"Whatever it is, just say it," he replies softly, leaning in closer.
My heart pounds as I struggle to find the right words.
The engine of the Maybach hums softly in the background, a steady beat against the silence.
I shift again, my fingers gripping the edge of the seat.
Marcus's cologne fills my senses as I move closer.
The city lights dance across his face, casting shadows that highlight his features.
He waits patiently, his eyes never leaving mine.
I take a deep breath and force myself to continue.
The words spill out, years of hidden feelings and unspoken truths tumbling from my lips.
I lean forward, my confession hanging in the air between us.
Marcus remains silent, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
My hands grip the platinum card in my pocket, seeking something solid to anchor me as the seconds stretch into eternity.
The privacy partition hums faintly, enclosing us in this moment.
Traffic lights cast alternating shadows across Marcus's face as he processes my words.
My heart pounds against my ribs while I wait for his response.
I hold my breath as his hand moves across the leather seat toward mine.
The Maybach's engine purrs softly while we pass through downtown, casting alternating shadows and light across the cabin.
His fingers brush against my knuckles, tentative at first, before firmly grasping my hand.
The warmth of his skin against mine sends electricity through my body.
I stare at our joined hands resting on the seat between us, unable to look up at his face.
The platinum card in my pocket suddenly feels insignificant compared to this moment.
My breath catches as his words sink in.
The Maybach's engine purrs softly while his thumb traces circles on my palm, each movement sending tingles up my arm.
I force myself to meet his gaze, finding warmth in his brown eyes that I've seen countless times but never quite like this.
The platinum card digs into my thigh through my pocket, a reminder of how much has changed today.
Yet here's Marcus, steady as always, his familiar callused hand grounding me.
Marcus's voice is soft, almost a whisper.
"I've known for a while, you know."
His eyes search mine, and I feel the weight of his understanding settle over me like a warm blanket.
I pull my hand back slightly, though his warmth lingers on my skin.
The Maybach's engine hums as we idle at a red light, casting intermittent shadows across his face.
"Why didn't you say anything about it?" my voice is barely a whisper.
The question hangs between us in the leather-scented air.
Marcus shifts in his seat, his shoulder still pressed against mine.
He opens his mouth to respond, but hesitates, his eyes searching my face.
"I wanted to give you the space to tell me when you were ready."
His gaze softens, and I feel a mix of relief and vulnerability.
"I didn't want to push you away by bringing it up too soon."
I sink deeper into the Maybach's leather seat, letting out a shaky breath as his words settle over me.
His arm presses against mine, warm and solid, grounding me amidst the surreal luxury surrounding us.
When he shifts slightly, adjusting his position to stay close, I feel the tension drain from my shoulders.
The familiar scent of his cologne mingles with the new leather smell.
My fingers brush against the platinum card in my pocket, but for once, I'm not thinking about the billions.
I turn to face him fully, my heart pounding against my ribs.
The privacy partition is up, and the engine's soft hum creates a cocoon of silence around us.
My fingers trace the edge of the platinum card through my pocket as I gather my courage.
"There's something else you should know," I say, watching his expression carefully.
He raises an eyebrow, his eyes never leaving mine.
"What is it?"
I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I pull the card from my pocket and turn it over in my hand.
The dim interior of the Maybach casts shadows on his face, but his eyes remain steady.
"There's more to the inheritance than just the money," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
His brow furrows slightly, curiosity etched on his features.
"What do you mean?"
I hesitate for a moment before continuing, my voice filled with a mix of trepidation and determination.
"There are secret military contracts, classified research facilities... things that even Wellington doesn't know about."
Marcus's eyes widen, and he leans closer, his voice urgent yet controlled.
"Are you saying your family was involved in something... off the books?"
I nod slowly, feeling the weight of the revelation settle between us like a tangible presence.