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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 immense poverty and hardship but never gave up. His life took a drastic turn when his adoptive parents kicked him out due to financial struggles. His exgirlfriend left him for someone richer. Despite criticism and judgment, Shane inherits the wealth, vowing revenge and social climb.
Grandfather
He is Shane’s wealthy grandfather who left him his entire estate. He is wise, protective, and supportive. Grandfather secretly raised Shane in his youth, teaching him important life skills without being discovered by Shane’s adoptive parents. Grandfather’s will leaves Shane with a vast inheritance, giving him the means to overcome the obstacles he faced and achieve his goals.
Penelope
She is Shane's exgirlfriend who left him for another man due to financial reasons. She is selfish, materialistic, and shallow. Penelope valued Shane only for his potential wealth, discarding him as soon as she found someone richer. Her relationship with Shane was marked by her constant criticism and belittling of his past struggles. She represents the societal pressures and expectations that Shane fought against.
I was an orphan, a poor boy with no one to take care of me.
I had been raised in foster care, moving from one family to another until I was seventeen.
At that time, I thought my life was finally looking up.
I had just been adopted by a new family, and even though they were not the most loving or kind, I was just grateful to have a home.
But little did I know, things were about to get worse.
My new adoptive parents kicked me out when I turned seventeen.
They claimed they could no longer afford to keep me.
I was left on the streets with nowhere to go.
I had to fight to survive every day, scavenging for food in the trash or sleeping on benches in the park.
It was a hard broken life, but I never gave up, thinking that someday, somehow, my life would get better.
And then one day, it did.
I found a job as a dishwasher at a small restaurant and met my girlfriend Penelope.
She was a waitress there, and we quickly fell in love.
Life was finally starting to look up for me.
However, Penelope had a weakness for rich men.
She left me for someone who could provide her with a better life, not long after we started dating.
After another exhausting shift at the restaurant, I dragged myself home.
I lived in a small studio apartment that was barely big enough for me to fit my bed and a few pieces of furniture.
But it was better than sleeping on the streets, so I was grateful for it.
As I walked up the stairs to my apartment, I noticed that I had some mail waiting for me in my mailbox.
I opened the mailbox and pulled out a stack of bills and junk mail.
But then, one envelope caught my eye.
It was an official-looking envelope with a return address from a law firm.
I had no idea who would be sending me mail from a law firm, but I was curious, so I opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside.
As I read through the letter, my eyes widened in shock.
It explained that my biological grandfather had passed away and left me his entire estate.
I had never even known that I had a biological grandfather, let alone one who was rich enough to leave me his entire fortune. According to the letter, DNA records had confirmed that I was indeed his grandson and sole heir.
I couldn't believe what I was reading.
My hands were shaking as I read through the letter again and again, trying to make sure that it wasn't some kind of joke or scam.
But it seemed real.
The letter explained that my grandfather's estate was worth more than the GDP of most countries.
I couldn't even wrap my head around that number.
It was more money than I could ever imagine having in my lifetime.
I sank down onto the floor, still holding the letter in my hand.
My mind was racing as I tried to process everything that I had just read.
I thought back to all of those nights when I had to sleep on park benches or scavenge for food in dumpsters.
It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it had only been a few years since I had been living on the streets. And now, here I was, reading a letter that told me that I was inheriting a fortune beyond my wildest dreams.
It felt like something out of a movie or a fairy tale.
I couldn't believe that this was actually happening to me.
I reached for my phone and dialed the number listed at the bottom of the letter.
A crisp female voice answered on the first ring.
"Good afternoon, you've reached the law offices of Smith and Associates. How may I direct your call?"
I explained that I was calling about the letter I had received regarding my inheritance, and she asked me to hold for just a moment.
A few seconds later, another voice came on the line.
"Hello, this is Mr. Smith. How may I help you?"
I explained that I had received a letter from his office regarding an inheritance from my biological grandfather, and he asked me to confirm my name and address.
After I did so, he told me that he would like to schedule a meeting with me to discuss the details of my inheritance.
He asked if I was available to come into his office tomorrow morning, and I agreed.
He gave me the address of his office and told me to arrive at 9:00 AM sharp.
I hung up the phone and sat there for a few minutes, still trying to process everything that had just happened.
I couldn't believe that my life was about to change in such a dramatic way. The next morning, I woke up early and got dressed in my only dress shirt and a pair of slacks.
I polished my scuffed shoes until they shone and splashed on some cologne that I had bought on sale at the discount store.
I didn't want to look like a dishwasher when I met with the lawyer, so I made sure that I looked as presentable as possible.
I grabbed the letter and headed out the door, triple-checking the address of the law office one last time before getting on the bus.
The ride took about 20 minutes, and when I arrived at the building, I was surprised by how fancy it was.
The lobby was marble and glass, with a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
I rode the elevator up to the 23rd floor and found myself in front of a large wooden door with a brass plaque that read "Smith and Associates."
I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Inside, there was a receptionist sitting behind a large desk.
She looked up as I entered and smiled politely.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm here to see Mr. Smith," I replied.
She nodded and picked up her phone.
"Mr. Smith, your nine o'clock appointment is here," she said into the receiver.
A moment later, a tall man with gray hair and glasses came out of an office down the hall.
"Ah, good morning," he said, extending his hand.
"I'm Mr. Smith. Please come this way."
I followed him through a set of heavy oak doors and into a corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city.
My shoes sank into the plush carpet as I took a seat in one of the leather chairs across from his massive mahogany desk.
Mr. Smith sat down and pulled out a thick folder from a drawer.
"This is all the information about your inheritance," he explained.
"As you know, your biological grandfather was quite wealthy. He left behind an estate worth several billion dollars."
I felt my eyes widening as I listened to him rattle off the numbers.
There were multiple properties, investment portfolios, bank accounts, and other assets that all added up to a staggering sum of money.
I couldn't even wrap my head around it.
"It's all yours," Mr. Smith said with a smile.
"As his only living heir, you are entitled to everything."
I nodded slowly, still trying to process what I was hearing.
"So what happens now?"
I asked.
Mr. Smith leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together.
"Well, first things first, we need to get some paperwork signed. This will officially transfer ownership of the estate to you."
He pulled out a stack of documents and slid them across the desk towards me. I scanned through the pages quickly, my heart racing as I saw my name printed over and over again.
It was surreal to think that all of this was mine now.
Mr. Smith handed me a silver pen that probably cost more than my monthly salary.
"Sign here, here, and here," he instructed, pointing to various places on the forms.
My hands shook slightly as I scribbled my signature across the pages.
As I finished signing, Mr. Smith cleared his throat and leaned forward.
"There's one more thing you should know," he said, his voice suddenly serious.
"Your grandfather's will includes a clause that requires you to meet someone very important before the transfer is complete."
Mr. Smith reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a sealed envelope.
He held it reverently in his hands before sliding it across the desk towards me.
"This person is your grandfather's most trusted advisor," he explained.
"He lives in a private estate just outside the city. It's essential that you meet with him as soon as possible."
Mr. Smith scribbled down an address and phone number on a piece of paper.
"His name is Dr. Marcus Chen. He's expecting your call."
I took the paper and the envelope, feeling a mix of curiosity and trepidation.
Just then, Mr. Smith's phone rang, shrill in the silence of the office.
He glanced at the caller ID and answered quickly.
"Yes, sir?"
He listened for a moment, nodding along.
"Yes, he's right here with me now."
There was another pause, and then Mr. Smith hung up.
"That was Dr. Chen himself," he said, his eyes wide with surprise.
"It seems he's expecting you today."
Mr. Smith stood up abruptly.
"I'll have my driver take you there immediately."
I followed him out of the office, my mind racing with questions.
As we stepped into the elevator, I turned to Mr. Smith.
"Who exactly is Dr. Chen?"
Mr. Smith pressed the button for the parking garage level.
"Your grandfather's most trusted advisor," he repeated.
"He knows everything about your grandfather's business dealings and personal life."
The elevator doors opened, revealing a dimly lit underground parking lot filled with sleek cars.
A black Mercedes pulled up in front of us, and Mr. Smith opened the back door for me.
"Go ahead," he urged.
"This meeting cannot wait." I hesitated for a moment, my hands trembling slightly as I clutched the envelope and papers in my hand.
But something compelled me to get into the car and trust that this was all part of some larger plan.
As I settled into the plush leather seat, Mr. Smith closed the door behind me and gave a nod to the driver.
The car glided smoothly out of the parking garage and onto the city streets, heading towards an unknown destination.
The driver remained silent as we drove, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
I watched the passing scenery outside my window - towering skyscrapers giving way to suburban neighborhoods and eventually open countryside.
The Mercedes glided to a halt in front of massive iron gates adorned with intricate "W" emblems.
My heart pounded in my chest as the gates slowly swung open with a mechanical hum, revealing a long driveway lined with perfectly manicured hedges.
The car moved forward, crunching over white gravel, and I pressed my face against the window to get my first glimpse of Weber Manor.
The mansion loomed before us, three stories high with limestone walls and windows that sparkled like diamonds in the afternoon sun.
Classical columns framed the grand entrance, where a distinguished-looking Asian man in a tailored suit stood waiting for our arrival.
The car came to a stop at the bottom of wide marble steps, and the driver opened my door for me.
Dr. Chen accepted the envelope without a word, his eyes studying my face intently.
We stood there on the marble steps, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the manicured lawn.
He broke the seal methodically, removing several documents from within.
As he scanned them with practiced efficiency, I noticed a flicker of recognition crossing his features.
After what felt like an eternity, he folded the papers and tucked them into his jacket pocket.
"Follow me," he said, turning towards the heavy wooden doors that led into the depths of Weber Manor.
I trailed behind him, my footsteps echoing against the polished floor.
The door closed behind us with a resounding thud, enveloping us in the hushed silence of the estate's interior.
Dr. Chen led me down a long hallway lined with cobweb-covered portraits and faded tapestries.
Our footsteps echoed off the high ceilings as we made our way towards a set of double doors at the end of the hall.
With a gentle push, he opened them, revealing a dimly lit study that seemed frozen in time.
I hesitated for a moment before lowering myself into the worn leather chair, its brass studs dulled with age.
The study smelled of old books and wood polish, a scent that transported me to memories of my grandfather's library back home.
Dr. Chen remained standing, his fingers trailing along the edge of my grandfather's mahogany desk as he circled to the other side.
The envelope from Mr. Smith still felt heavy in my hands, its contents now tucked away in Dr. Chen's pocket.
Through the study's dusty windows, afternoon sunlight cast long shadows across the Persian rug that covered the floor.
Dr. Chen reached for a brass desk lamp, clicking it on to illuminate the room.
The warm glow revealed shelves lined with leather-bound books and a large portrait of my grandfather hanging above the fireplace.
Dr. Chen finally spoke, his voice steady and deliberate: "Your grandfather's legacy is now yours to uncover."
Dr. Chen opened a thick leather portfolio, its contents spilling out onto the polished surface of the desk.
My eyes widened as he began to spread out document after document, each one filled with rows of numbers and legal jargon that made my head spin.
He methodically reviewed each page, his voice steady and calm as he spoke.
"The total inheritance stands at 350 googol dollars, broken down into various assets."
He gestured towards a stack of papers.
"Private islands in the Caribbean, mega yachts in the Mediterranean, and penthouses in major cities around the world."
My fingers tightened on the armrests of the chair as he continued.
"Properties in prime locations, from New York to London, Paris to Tokyo. And then there are the liquid holdings – stocks, bonds, and investments in cutting-edge technologies."
Dr. Chen pulled out a small stack of documents and slid them across the desk towards me.
"These represent your grandfather's most prized possessions – rare art pieces and historical artifacts collected from around the world."
I stared at the papers, my mind racing with the sheer magnitude of what lay before me.
Dr. Chen reached into his suit pocket and retrieved a sleek blue card.
The platinum "W" emblazoned on its surface caught the light from the lamp, casting a miniature reflection on the polished desk.
He slid the Citibank card across to me, where it came to rest against my trembling fingers. My hand shook as I picked up the card, its weight substantial in my palm.
The raised letters spelled out "William Weber" in elegant script, while a series of numbers glinted in silver ink below.
"This is your access to all of your grandfather's accounts," Dr. Chen explained, his voice steady and reassuring.
"With this card, you can tap into any of his assets whenever you need them."
I turned the card over in my hands, studying it intently.
It felt like more money than I had ever held before – more money than I could even imagine.
As I looked at Dr. Chen across the desk, I realized just how much responsibility rested on my shoulders now.
"Why did he choose me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Dr. Chen paused, his gaze meeting mine with a hint of something I couldn't quite place.
"Because," he said softly, "you are the only one who can finish what he started."
I stared at the platinum card in my hand, its metallic surface catching the lamplight.
Dr. Chen pulled out a leather-bound ledger from the desk drawer and placed it before me.
As he flipped through yellowed pages filled with my grandfather's familiar handwriting, I noticed something tucked between the entries.
Photographs.
Old snapshots of me as a child, taken from afar.
My throat tightened as I recognized one – a picture of me during my homeless days, sleeping on a park bench.
Dr. Chen's voice broke through the silence.
"Your grandfather watched over you from the shadows, testing your character through hardship."
I closed the leather ledger and stood from my grandfather's chair, needing space to process everything.
Walking to the study's window, I watched raindrops streak down the glass, blurring the view of the garden outside.
My fingers absently played with the platinum card in my pocket.
Dr. Chen remained silent, giving me time to absorb it all.
The weight of my grandfather's surveillance felt both comforting and unsettling.
He had watched me dig through dumpsters, sleep on benches, lose everything – and did nothing.
Yet he deemed me worthy of his entire fortune.
My fingers curled around the card as I turned back to Dr. Chen.
I slumped back into the leather chair, my vision blurring as tears welled up.
Every hungry night on the streets, every rejection, every moment of despair – he had witnessed it all.
My fingers traced the edge of a photo showing me huddled in a ragged coat behind the restaurant where I worked.
Another captured Penelope walking away from me that final time.
The platinum card slipped from my trembling hand, clattering onto the desk.
Dr. Chen leaned forward, his eyes softening with understanding.
"He believed in your resilience, your ability to rise above adversity," he said gently.
"And he knew that only someone who had truly lived through hardship could appreciate the value of what he left behind."
I stared at the platinum card on the mahogany desk, its metallic surface catching the lamplight.
Dr. Chen handed me a sealed letter, my grandfather's familiar handwriting scrawled across the envelope.
I broke the seal and unfolded the paper, my eyes scanning the words.
Tears blurred my vision as I read his final message to me.
He explained how he had watched me from afar, witnessing me maintain my dignity through poverty and loss.
He believed that I would emerge stronger, not bitter.
That I would understand the value of his wealth not just as power, but as a means to make a difference.
I thought of Penelope, of my adoptive parents who had turned their backs on me, of all those who had doubted me.
My grandfather had seen it all – and still believed in me.
Running my thumb across the engraved letters on the platinum card, I slipped it back into my wallet.
This wealth came with purpose, not just power.
I resolved to honor his faith by using it to change lives, starting with my own.
I place the letter carefully on the mahogany desk, my fingers lingering on his signature.
The study's silence feels different now - expectant, charged with possibility.
Dr. Chen watches as I methodically gather the photos, the ledger, and finally pick up the platinum card.
Each item represents a piece of my past, but also a step toward my future.
I walk to my grandfather's portrait above the fireplace, studying his stern yet knowing expression.
The weight of his expectations settles on my shoulders as I turn to Dr. Chen and ask about the first steps to claiming my inheritance.
I lean back in the leather chair, my gaze drifting to the portrait of my grandfather above the fireplace.
Dr. Chen stands and walks to a wall, pressing a hidden button that reveals a small safe.
He retrieves a thick folder, returning to sit behind his desk.
He opens the folder, pulling out a stack of papers.
"The next steps are straightforward," he begins methodically.
"Firstly, you will move into Weber Manor immediately. The staff has been informed of your arrival and will ensure a smooth transition."
My stomach tightens at the thought of such rapid change.
Dr. Chen continues, "Secondly, you will undergo intensive training in business and etiquette to prepare you for your role as the Weber heir. This will include meetings with key stakeholders and advisors."
I nod, my mind racing with the implications.
"And finally," he concludes, "within three months, you will be publicly announced as the Weber heir, marking the beginning of your journey as the successor to your grandfather's legacy." The weight of those words settles heavily on my shoulders.
I can barely imagine how drastically my life is about to change.
Dr. Chen hands me a sleek phone with several pre-programmed numbers.
"These are for the manor staff, security team, and myself. You may contact us anytime for assistance or guidance," he explains.
I take the phone, feeling its weight in my hand.
It's a tangible connection to this new world I'm about to enter.
"What about my job?" I ask hesitantly, thinking of the dishwashing position I've held for years.
Dr. Chen's expression turns firm.
"You need to quit tonight," he says resolutely.
"This is your new reality now. Your old life ends the moment you walk out of this study."
I nod, accepting the irrevocable shift as I step into the unknown.
I lean forward in the leather chair, the new phone heavy in my hand.
"What about Tommy and Marcus? They took me in when I was homeless," I ask, my voice filled with concern.
Dr. Chen's expression remains neutral as he shuffles through more papers.
I describe how they shared their cramped apartment with me, split their food when I was starving.
"They're the only ones who helped me without wanting anything in return," I explain, hoping he understands their significance to me.
Dr. Chen pauses, then pulls out two personnel files - background checks on my friends already completed.
"Your grandfather noted their loyalty," he says, sliding the files across the desk.
"He wanted to ensure they were taken care of as well," Dr. Chen continues, his tone softening slightly.
"You'll find provisions for them in the will, including job offers at the manor if they choose."
Relief floods through me, and I nod, grateful that my grandfather's generosity extends beyond just me.
I rise from my grandfather's leather chair, extending my hand to Dr. Chen.
He accepts it with a firm grip, nodding in approval at the gesture.
Walking to the study door, I pause to take one last look at the room where my life has forever changed.
My grandfather's portrait seems to watch me with a newfound warmth.
Dr. Chen leads me through the winding corridors of the manor, pointing out various wings and rooms that will soon become my new home.
We reach a grand bedroom suite, where fresh clothes and toiletries await me.
A butler enters with my meager belongings from my old apartment, already retrieved.
I stand alone in the room, feeling the weight of both endings and beginnings.
I empty my worn backpack onto the king-sized bed, watching as the few possessions I've accumulated over the years spill out onto the silk duvet.
My faded work uniform, a toothbrush, and two pairs of socks lie amidst the opulence.
From the front pocket, I retrieve a creased photograph of Tommy, Marcus, and me standing outside their apartment on the day they first took me in.
My hands tremble slightly as I place it in a silver frame from the dresser and position it on the mahogany nightstand.
I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at my old flip phone.
The platinum card and inheritance papers lie beside me on the sheets.
After several attempts, I finally type out a message to Tommy and Marcus: "Need to talk. Important news. Can you meet?"
My thumb hovers over the send button, contemplating how to explain the sudden transformation from dishwasher to billionaire.
The phone feels strange in my hands - soon I'll have to switch to the new smartphone Dr. Chen gave me.
The phone buzzes almost immediately with a reply from Tommy: "Sure, man. Everything okay?"
I hesitate, then type back, "Yeah, just... a lot's happened. Meet at our usual spot?"
Marcus chimes in with a quick, "We'll be there. Don't keep us waiting with the suspense!"
I check my reflection one last time in the ornate bedroom mirror, barely recognizing myself in the expensive clothes Dr. Chen insisted I wear.
The driver waits by the Mercedes, but I choose to walk instead, needing to clear my head.
The familiar route to Tommy and Marcus's neighborhood is a short one, but my new leather shoes pinch with each step on the cracked sidewalks I once slept on.
The platinum card weighs heavy in my pocket, a constant reminder of the life I've left behind.
As I approach the corner store where we always meet, I pause outside the grimy window.
Tommy and Marcus sit at our usual table, sipping cheap coffee and laughing together.
I push open the glass door, the bell above it jingling as I enter.
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting an artificial glow over the rows of expired food and dusty shelves.
Tommy and Marcus look up, startled by my sudden appearance.
They share a $1 coffee between them, just like we used to do when we had no money for anything else.
Their eyes widen as they take in my new appearance: pressed suit, polished shoes, clean-shaven face.
I pull up a plastic chair to our usual scratched table, the platinum card pressing against my leg through the pocket.
My hands shake slightly as I reach into my jacket.
Before I can speak, I slide the inheritance papers across the sticky tabletop to them.
I lean forward, watching their faces as they read through the pages.
Their expressions change from shock to disbelief to a hint of wariness.
The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows on their features, making them look like strangers.
Tommy and Marcus exchange glances, then look at me with a mix of confusion and suspicion.
The coffee in front of them has gone cold, forgotten in the midst of their stunned silence.
I pull out two business proposals from my pocket, the papers Dr. Chen helped me draft.
My hands still tremble as I pass them across the table, explaining my plan to start a chain of homeless shelters and job training centers.
I offer them key positions in management, hoping they'll join me in this new venture.
Tommy and Marcus exchange a long look, then nod slowly, their eyes meeting mine with renewed trust.
I lead them out of the corner store, past my waiting Mercedes.
The driver opens the doors as we approach, but my friends hesitate at the sight of the luxury vehicle.
Tommy clutches his coffee cup nervously while Marcus stares at the polished black exterior.
I remember how we used to walk miles together to save bus fare.
Gently, I guide them inside, watching as they sink into the leather seats with wide eyes.
As the car pulls away from our old hangout, I explain more details about their new positions at Weber Manor.
I sit between them, the plush leather seats enveloping us in comfort.
I hand Tommy a folder filled with documents, our fingers brushing briefly as he takes it from me.
The casual contact makes me freeze, suddenly aware of the charged energy between us.
Our eyes meet and hold, his expression softening with an intimacy I've never noticed before.
Marcus continues talking about the homeless shelter plans, but I barely hear him.
My heart races as I struggle to focus on the papers in my lap, hyper-conscious of Tommy's presence beside me.