Share
MidReal Story
The Billionaire Reborn
Scenario:Jonathan Kenwood has led a hard broken life, a poor orphan, and his girlfriend is leaving him for a richer prospect. But his fortune is about to change dramatically. Jonathan inherited immense wealth from his grandfather, shocking everyone. He was the heir to the only multi-septillionaire family in the world. He indures constant criticism and and judgment from those around him. He vowed that those who labeled him a failure would eventually bow at his feet. Now, how will he use his newfound wealth to shape those around him as he reclaims his life. With a new found sense of responsibility, Jonathan will get revenge on those that treated him badly. Will he succeed?
Create my version of this story
Jonathan Kenwood
He is a previously penniless orphan who secretly inherited a vast fortune from his grandfather. He is resilient, witty, and determined. Jonathan faced immense wealth and social status after discovering his grandfather's will, which transformed his life. He was mistreated by those around him due to his appearance and past circumstances. Jonathan vowed to reclaim his position and influence, using his newfound wealth to help others and exact revenge on those who wronged him, while maintaining a sarcastic and humorous demeanor.
Grandfather
He is Jonathan Kenwood's paternal grandfather. He is secretive, wise, and protective. Grandfather kept his wealth hidden from Jonathan, leaving him to struggle financially after his parents died in an accident. His will unexpectedly bestowed upon Jonathan the largest inheritance ever seen, changing his life's trajectory. Grandfather's actions remained mysterious but ultimately beneficial for Jonathan, serving as a catalyst for his transformation and vengeance against those who mistreated him due to their lack of knowledge about his true heritage.
Maggie
She is a former girlfriend of Jonathan Kenwood. She is superficial, materialistic, and dismissive. Maggie left Jonathan for a more affluent partner, showing her shallow priorities. She initially treated Jonathan with disdain due to his poverty and appearance, reflecting the societal norms she adhered to. However, after Jonathan's financial situation changed, she attempted to rekindle their relationship, only to be rejected by Jonathan, who remembered her past transgressions and realized the shallowness of their relationship.
I was once the poorest guy in school.
My girlfriend dumped me for a richer guy.
I was heartbroken, but I didn't know that my life was about to change forever.
I just inherited a massive fortune from my grandfather, who was one of the richest men in the world.
Now, I'm not only rich but also the most handsome guy in school.
Those who looked down on me and called me poor now bow down to me and beg for my forgiveness.
I'll never forgive them and get revenge on all those who made fun of me.
My girlfriend wants to come back to me now, but I won't let her.
I have a new girlfriend who loves me, not just my money.
The story begins with me being poor and living in a small apartment with my cat, Muffin.
My girlfriend, Maggie, just left me for a guy who has more money than me.
I thought my life couldn't get any worse, but I was wrong.
It turns out that my grandfather was one of the richest men in the world, and he left his entire fortune to me in his will.
I just inherited a massive fortune and several businesses from my grandfather.
My life has changed overnight, and I'm now living in a large mansion with my cat, Muffin.
I carry Muffin through the echoing marble foyer, her tiny claws digging into my designer shirt as she trembles in my arms.
She's never seen anything like this before.
The crystal chandeliers, the sweeping staircase, the floor-to-ceiling windows that let in a flood of sunlight.
It's all so different from our small apartment.
I take her on a tour of the house, room by room, showing her all the things that are now ours.
There's the indoor pool, where we can swim any time we want.
There's the climate-controlled wine cellar, where we can store our favorite bottles.
There's even a movie theater, where we can watch whatever we want on a giant screen.
Muffin doesn't seem impressed by any of it.
She just keeps clinging to me, her eyes wide with fear.
It isn't until we get to the kitchen that she finally squirms out of my arms and runs under one of the counters.
I crouch down and peer under the counter at her.
"Come on out, Muffin," I say softly.
"There's nothing to be afraid of."
The personal chef watches awkwardly as I try to coax Muffin out from under the counter.
Finally, she emerges, and I scoop her up in my arms again. "Let's go find you some food," I say to her.
"You must be hungry after our long trip."
The chef leads us to a room off the kitchen that's filled with cat food and supplies.
Muffin perks up when she sees all the options, and she starts purring as I set her down on the floor and let her explore.
I watch her for a few minutes, making sure she's okay before I leave her alone to eat and play.
Then I head upstairs to check out my new bedroom.
The master suite is enormous, with a king-size bed and a sitting area with a fireplace.
The bathroom is almost as big as our old apartment, with a walk-in shower and a separate tub that looks like it could fit five people comfortably. But what really catches my eye is the cat tree in front of one of the windows.
It's huge, with multiple levels and scratching posts and even a little hideaway cave for Muffin to curl up in.
I didn't order this for her; it must have been one of the staff members who set it up for us.
I walk into the master suite, still in my worn jeans and faded t-shirt from the old apartment.
The California king bed is the centerpiece of the room, draped in Egyptian cotton sheets that probably cost more than my entire month's rent back home.
Muffin follows me in, her paws silent on the plush carpet.
I run my hand along the mahogany bedpost, remembering how my old bed frame used to squeak with every movement.
This one is solid and sturdy, and when I sit down on the edge of the mattress, it gives perfectly under my weight.
Muffin jumps up beside me, kneading her paws into the expensive fabric.
A week ago, I was counting quarters to do laundry.
"Hard to believe, isn't it?" a voice says from the doorway.
I look up to see my best friend, Jake, leaning against the frame with a grin.
"Yeah," I reply, shaking my head in disbelief, "and to think it all started with that letter from the lawyer."
I wave Jake over to join me on the bed, but he stays in the doorway, still taking in the grandeur of the room.
"Come on," I say, standing up.
"Let's check this place out properly."
We start down the corridor of the east wing, our footsteps echoing off the marble floors.
Jake runs his hand along the mahogany wainscoting, while I test each crystal doorknob we pass.
Behind one door is a two-story library, with books stacked all the way to the ceiling.
The shelves are made of dark wood, and there's a ladder on rails that allows you to reach the top shelves.
The books themselves are all leather-bound classics, and I run my fingers over their spines as we walk through the room.
Behind another door is a conservatory, filled with rare orchids and other exotic plants.
The air is warm and humid, and there's a small fountain bubbling away in one corner. Jake whistles softly as he looks out the window at the collection of vintage cars parked in front of the garage.
I see a door at the end of the corridor with intricate carvings etched into it.
"What's behind this one?" Jake asks, his curiosity piqued.
I hesitate for a moment, then say, "That's the room my grandfather used as his study; I haven't been in there yet."
Jake raises an eyebrow and grins, "Well, maybe it's time we see what secrets the old man left behind."
I grip the brass doorknob, feeling the cool metal against my palm.
Jake stands behind me, practically bouncing with anticipation.
The heavy oak door creaks open, revealing a room that's even more impressive than I imagined.
The walls are lined with dark wood paneling, and towering bookshelves stretch all the way to the ceiling.
In the center of the room is a massive desk, its surface gleaming in the sunlight that streams through the window.
The only thing on the desk is a single cream-colored envelope.
My hands shake as I pick it up, recognizing my name written in elegant script across the front.
Jake settles into one of the leather armchairs while I perch on the edge of the desk.
I run my thumb along the edge of the envelope, feeling the slight indentation where my grandfather's pen pressed into the paper.
Then I take a deep breath and break the seal. The sound of tearing paper fills the room as I pull out several pages of handwritten text.
"Well, what does it say?" Jake asks, leaning forward with eager eyes.
I scan the first few lines, my heart pounding. "It's a letter from my grandfather... and it starts with, 'If you're reading this, then I've entrusted you with a legacy far greater than wealth.'"
I scan the elegant cursive handwriting, each word revealing a world my grandfather kept hidden from me.
He writes about how he built his empire from scratch, investing in cutting-edge technology and real estate ventures.
He talks about taking risks on emerging markets and diversifying his holdings to protect against economic downturns.
As I read on, I learn that he secretly attended my high school graduation, watched me struggle through minimum wage jobs, and even tested my character by sending people to try and exploit me for my supposed wealth.
My throat tightens as I read his words of pride in my resilience and determination.
Jake sits silently while I absorb the instructions on how to manage the family holdings and avoid the vultures who'll try to take advantage of my newfound status.
Finally, I reach the last paragraph, where my grandfather leaves me with one final piece of advice: "Trust few, help many, but never forget those who scorned you."
I fold the letter carefully, smoothing out the creases with my fingertips.
I set it on the mahogany desk and pull my old phone out of my pocket.
The cracked screen flickers to life as I open a notes app.
Jake watches with curiosity as I start typing, his eyes following every movement of my fingers.
"The media will find out about the inheritance soon," I say, starting to list the potential threats.
"Maggie and her new boyfriend will try to worm their way back into my life. My former boss who kept denying me promotions will probably try to pitch some investment opportunities."
I continue listing names, each one representing someone who wronged me in the past.
There's the guy who ghosted me after our second date, the coworker who sabotaged my work projects, and even the landlord who raised my rent without warning.
As I type, Jake nods along, his expression growing more serious by the minute.
"You're going to need to hire security and a legal team," he says finally.
"And maybe invest in a good therapist too."
I laugh bitterly, but he's right.
My grandfather's letter has given me a glimpse into a world where wealth and power come with their own set of dangers.
I keep typing until my hand cramps, then look around the study again.
My eyes land on a painting of my grandfather hanging above the fireplace.
It's an oil portrait, depicting him standing proudly in front of one of his companies' factories. As I stare at it, I notice something odd - the frame seems slightly crooked, and there's a faint line running along one edge.
I frown and walk closer to investigate.
Jake watches curiously as I run my fingers along the frame's edge, feeling for any hidden mechanisms.
Suddenly, a section of the wall slides open behind the painting, revealing a small safe.
"Whoa," Jake breathes from behind me.
"Your grandfather really was something else."
I turn back to face him, my heart racing with excitement.
"Now we just have to figure out the combination."
Jake shrugs.
"Maybe it's in that letter you read."
I glance down at the pages still lying on the desk and realize he's right.
"There's a part where he mentions my birthday and the year he started his first company," I say, flipping through the letter quickly.
Jake leans forward, eyes wide. "Try those numbers together; it could be a six-digit code."
I nod, punching in the numbers with trembling fingers, hoping for a click that will unlock whatever secrets my grandfather left behind.
The safe door swings open with a satisfying click, releasing a musty scent of old paper.
I reach inside, my fingers brushing against leather-bound folders and yellowed documents stacked neatly in metal filing boxes.
Jake leans closer, his breath audible in the quiet study.
At the back of the safe, something catches my eye - a deep purple velvet pouch with a drawstring tied in an intricate knot.
As I pull it out, something solid shifts inside, making a distinct metallic sound.
The pouch feels heavy in my palm, but before I can untie the knot to see what's inside, Jake points to a red folder sticking out from the stack.
"Hey, isn't that the one you were looking for?"
I untie the velvet pouch first, revealing a small key with strange markings etched into its surface.
Setting it aside, I grab the red folder and pull it out of the safe.
The cover reads "Confidential" in bold letters, and as I open it, I find a collection of documents and blueprints.
Jake leans closer to get a better look.
"Whoa, these are some serious plans," he says, his voice filled with awe.
There are detailed schematics for a quantum computing facility in Switzerland, experimental clean energy plants in remote locations, and even plans for a space mining operation.
My grandfather's handwriting fills the margins, making notes on everything from funding sources to potential investors.
While examining the blueprints, Jake's elbow accidentally bumps the back of the safe.
The sound that echoes back is hollow, as if there's something behind the metal wall.
I reach in, feeling along the interior until my fingers catch on a slight ridge.
Pressing it, a spring-loaded panel opens, revealing a hidden compartment.
Inside lies a leather-bound journal, its pages yellowed and dog-eared from years of use.
The first entry is dated forty years ago, written in my grandfather's distinctive scrawl.
Jake leans closer as I open it, his eyes scanning the pages alongside mine.
A newspaper clipping falls out, and my heart skips a beat as I recognize the headline - "Tragic Car Accident Claims Lives of Young Couple."
It's an article about my parents' death when I was just a baby.
The journal's first entry begins with a chilling confession: "I know the truth about what happened that night."
I sit at my grandfather's desk, the journal clutched tightly in my hands.
Jake carefully unfolds another piece of paper that had been tucked between the final pages.
My throat tightens as he hands it to me - a letter addressed to me, written just weeks before my grandfather's death.
The paper feels fragile between my fingers, the weight of its contents sinking in.
As I read the words, my heart races and tears blur my vision.
The letter reveals a dark secret, one that has haunted our family for decades.
It was no accident that took my parents' lives.
Their brake lines were deliberately cut by a rival businessman seeking revenge against my grandfather.
The man responsible was driven by greed and malice, determined to destroy everything my family had built.
For years, my grandfather gathered evidence, piecing together the truth behind their tragic deaths.
But he never pursued justice, fearing it would put me in danger. Instead, he kept his findings hidden, protecting me from the truth until he could no longer bear the weight of his silence.
The letter ends with a single name - the man who orchestrated it all - and a sealed envelope containing proof of his guilt.
Jake squeezes my shoulder as I finish reading, his eyes filled with sympathy.
I trace my fingers over the final words written by my grandfather: "Justice is not always swift, but forgiveness can heal even the deepest wounds."
I close the journal, resolve hardening within me as I realize it's time to confront the past and seek the justice my family deserves.
