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MidReal Story
The Billionaire Rebound
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 was the secret heir to a multibillion dollar inheritance. He is resilient,determined,and sarcastic. Shane faced a tumultuous childhood,where he was mistreated by foster parents and later labeled a "failure" by those who knew his wealthy heritage. After inheriting the fortune,he seeks revenge on those who wronged him and builds a new life centered around helping others.
Bethany
She is Shane's new girlfriend and a social worker dedicated to helping others. She is caring,genuine,and optimistic. Bethany meets Shane while helping him reclaim his inheritance and understands his past struggles firsthand. Her genuine affection and support contrast with Julia's superficiality,solidifying Shane's desire to build a life based on mutual respect and understanding.
Julia
She is Shane's exgirlfriend who left him for someone wealthier. She is selfish,shallow,and critical. Julia initially dated Shane to benefit from his potential future wealth and later discarded him for someone with more financial resources. Her treatment of Shane highlights his determination to overcome adversity and move forward,driving his quest for revenge and selfdiscovery.
I was an orphan, a poor boy with no one to care for me.
I was raised in foster care, and my life was as hard as it comes.
My foster parents mistreated me, made me do chores all day and sleep on the floor.
They even sold my meal portions for extra cash.
I was just a child, barely ten years old.
But I was strong, resilient, and determined to make something out of myself.
I vowed that one day I would rise above all this, that I would show them all what I was capable of.
And that day came sooner rather than I ever could have imagined.
When I turned eighteen, I received a letter that changed my life forever.
It informed me that my grandfather, whom I had never known existed, had left me an inheritance of Trillions of dollars.
The catch: he was the richest man in the world.
And I was his heir.
No one had suspected it, not even my foster parents.
They had treated me so poorly because they thought I was just another useless orphan, a failure in the making.
But now they were bowing at my feet, begging for my forgiveness and favor.
Their apologies were useless, however.
I had already forgiven them and moved on with my life.
I sit in my new penthouse office, staring at my phone as memories flood back.
Isaac and Marcus were the only ones who stood by me in foster care.
They were my best friends, my brothers.
We shared stolen cookies and took punishments together.
We laughed and cried together.
And now, they were the only ones I wanted to share my good fortune with.
I scroll through my contacts, finding their numbers.
They haven't changed in all these years.
I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should call them.
The last time we spoke was when we turned eighteen and split up.
They never knew about my inheritance.
Taking a deep breath, I press call.
It rings three times before Isaac's familiar voice answers.
"Hello?"
"Hey, man," I say, trying to sound casual despite the excitement in my voice.
There's a pause on the other end of the line, and then Marcus joins the call on conference. "Is that really you?" he asks, his voice filled with disbelief.
"It's me," I reply, smiling widely.
"Where have you been all these years?"
Isaac asks, his Southern drawl still as thick as ever.
"I've been busy," I say vaguely.
"But I'm back now."
There's another pause, and then Marcus speaks up again.
"What's going on? Why are you calling us after all this time?"
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering.
"I've got some news to share with you guys."
"What is it?" they both ask at the same time.
I chuckle at their eagerness and then continue.
"You know how we always dreamed of making something out of ourselves? Well, I did it."
There's a long silence on the other end of the line before Isaac finally speaks up again. "What do you mean?" he asks cautiously. "I mean that I'm rich now," I say simply. "Like, really rich."
There's another pause, and then Marcus starts laughing hysterically. "You're kidding, right?" he asks between chuckles. "Nope," I reply with a grin. "I'm dead serious."
Isaac starts laughing too, and soon both of them are cracking up so hard that they can barely breathe. "This is insane," Marcus says when he finally calms down enough to speak. "How did this happen?"
"My grandfather left me everything, and now it's time for us to change the world together."
I pull up satellite images of coastal properties on my tablet and start scrolling through them.
Isaac and Marcus listen on speakerphone as I describe each one.
"There's this one in Malibu," I say, showing them a sprawling Mediterranean-style estate with six bedrooms and a private beach.
"It has a guest house too, so you guys can stay there whenever you want."
I click on the next image, showing them the infinity pool overlooking the ocean.
"Whoa," Marcus whistles low.
"This place is insane."
"I know," I say, grinning at the screen.
"I've always wanted to live by the beach."
Isaac chuckles softly on the other end of the line.
"Remember when we used to talk about having a treehouse?"
"Yeah," I reply, smiling at the memory.
"We were always dreaming big back then."
Marcus joins in, his voice filled with nostalgia.
"And now look at us. We're living the dream." I click on the next image, showing them another property in Santa Monica.
This one has a rooftop deck with breathtaking views of the city skyline.
"It's beautiful," Isaac says wistfully.
"I can't wait to see it in person."
"We'll schedule a viewing for tomorrow morning," I say, clicking on the "Schedule Viewing" button on my tablet.
"I'll pick you guys up at nine."
"Sounds good," Marcus replies, his voice filled with excitement.
"We'll be ready."
I hang up the phone and lean back in my chair, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me.
The next morning, as we stand on the rooftop deck, Marcus turns to me with a serious expression.
"Why did your grandfather leave you everything?" he asks quietly.
I pause, looking out at the horizon before answering, "He wanted me to find my own way first, to prove I could stand on my own."
Isaac looks at me, then out at the ocean, where the waves are gently crashing against the shore.
Marcus steps closer to me, reaching for my hand.
His fingers brush against my palm, hesitantly at first, as if he's not sure if he should touch me.
I look down at our hands, feeling his warm skin against mine.
He tightens his grip around my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine.
I look up to see him staring at me intensely, his eyes burning with a fire I've never seen before.
I feel my chest tighten, my breath catching in my throat.
The morning sun casts long shadows across the wooden planks of the rooftop deck.
Isaac walks to the far end of the deck, pretending to admire the view of the coastline.
But I can tell he's really giving us some privacy. I look back at Marcus, who is still staring at me with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat.
I can feel his hand tightening around mine, his grip strong and firm.
But something about this moment feels wrong.
I step back from him, letting my hand slip from his grasp.
His face falls slightly, but I pretend not to notice.
"Let's check out the indoor theater," I say, keeping my voice light and casual.
Marcus nods stiffly, his eyes still fixed on me.
Isaac rejoins us, oblivious to the tension that just passed between Marcus and me.
We head toward the stairs, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the silence.
I walk between them, careful to keep a safe distance from Marcus.
The click of our shoes on the marble steps fills the air as we make our way down to the main level of the house.
We reach the door to the indoor theater, and I push it open, grateful for the dimness inside.
I lead them inside, Marcus following closely behind me.
The room is filled with tiered leather recliners, each one equipped with a cup holder and a footrest.
The far wall is dominated by a massive screen, and there's a professional sound system installed in the ceiling.
Isaac walks over to the front of the room, where there are several gaming consoles set up.
He picks up one of the controllers and starts pressing buttons, testing out the controls.
I walk over to the wall and press a button on the remote control I found earlier.
Instantly, the lights dim and the curtains that cover the windows slide shut.
I press another button, and the massive screen flickers to life, displaying a menu of options.
Marcus stands close behind me, his breath hot against my neck as he whispers, "This place is incredible."
I quickly step away from him, not wanting to be too close.
I point to the corner of the room, where there's a small wet bar set up.
"There's also a bar over there," I say, trying to sound casual.
"And upstairs, there's a martial arts dojo."
Isaac looks at me excitedly when I mention the dojo, but Marcus just stares at me intensely. I quickly look away from him and start fiddling with the remote control again.
I grab the remote and pull up the streaming menu.
I take a seat in one of the single recliners, while Isaac and Marcus sit on the three-seater couch.
The massive screen flickers to life, casting a dim glow over the darkened room.
I scroll through the options, looking for something to watch.
Marcus keeps glancing at me, but I pretend not to notice.
I'm too busy reading the descriptions of action movies.
Isaac looks at me and says, "How about we watch Die Hard? We used to love that movie when we were kids."
I nod in agreement and start searching for it on the menu.
After a few seconds, I find it and press play.
The opening credits roll across the screen, and I dim the lights even further using the wall panel.
I pass around a crystal bowl filled with buttery popcorn, deliberately handing it to Isaac first.
He takes a handful and passes it to Marcus, who's sitting on the other end of the couch.
The familiar opening scenes of Die Hard play out in stunning clarity on the theater's 120-inch screen.
Marcus shifts closer to Isaac on the couch, but I remain fixed in my separate recliner, gripping the armrests tightly.
When Bruce Willis appears shirtless on screen, Isaac turns to me and says, "Oh yeah, remember how we used to have a crush on him when we were teenagers?"
I laugh genuinely for the first time today, remembering how we used to practice his one-liners in our foster home bedroom.
The bowl makes another round, and this time Marcus's fingers brush mine as he takes it from me.
During a quiet moment in the movie, I find myself staring at the massive screen without really watching it.
The familiar dialogue fades into background noise as memories flood back - the three of us huddled under blankets in our foster home's cramped living room, sharing a single bag of microwave popcorn while watching movies on a tiny TV with fuzzy reception.
Isaac's infectious laugh echoes in my mind as I recall us acting out action scenes in the backyard with stick weapons.
My fingers trace the leather armrest of my expensive recliner, the stark contrast between past and present hitting me hard.
I pause the movie mid-scene, the screen freezing on an explosion.
The sudden silence and darkness feel suffocating.
I grip the remote tightly, my knuckles turning white.
Marcus and Isaac turn to me, confusion etched on their faces.
Standing up from my recliner, I move to face them, my back to the massive screen.
The blue light from the screen casts an eerie glow on their faces.
Isaac's gentle eyes and Marcus's sharp jawline are illuminated in a way that makes my throat tighten.
"There's something I need to tell you both," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
I pace in front of the screen, remote still clutched in my hand.
Marcus and Isaac watch me with growing concern.
The paused explosion behind me casts an eerie blue glow on the room.
My feet sink into the plush carpet with each step.
Finally, I stop moving and face them directly.
"Remember when I left the foster home that night without saying goodbye?"
I ask, my voice cracking.
Isaac nods slowly while Marcus leans forward on the couch, his earlier flirtation forgotten.
"I found out something that night," I continue, my voice steadier now.
Marcus's eyes narrow, a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
"What did you find out?" Isaac asks softly, his gaze unwavering.
I stop pacing and sink into the recliner closest to them.
My hands tremble as I hold the remote.
It slips from my fingers and clatters to the floor.
Looking down at my expensive shoes, I force myself to speak.
"That night, ten years ago, when I was sixteen... something happened," I begin, my voice barely audible.
"I'm not sure where to start."
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, letting the memories flood back.
"I remember being confused and scared. I had just kissed Marcus behind the garage, and hours later, I found myself in the kitchen with Isaac."
I pause, trying to gather my thoughts.
"Isaac and I... we were intimate," I admit, my voice cracking.
"And then that same night, I packed my bags and left."
I open my eyes and look at them both, seeing the shock and disbelief on their faces.
Marcus's voice is low, almost a growl.
"You just left us without a word, after everything?"
Isaac's eyes are wide, searching mine for answers.
"Why didn't you ever tell us? We could have figured it out together."
I swallow hard, feeling the weight of their hurt and confusion.
"I was scared of losing you both, and I didn't know how to face what I'd done."
I sit frozen in the recliner as Marcus and Isaac move to either side of me, each taking one of my hands.
The warmth of their touch sends memories flooding back—stolen kisses, whispered confessions, the pain of running away.
Marcus squeezes my right hand while Isaac's thumb traces circles on my left palm.
"We were just kids back then," Isaac says softly.
Marcus nods in agreement, his earlier predatory gaze replaced with understanding.
The three of us sit in silence as Die Hard continues playing mutely in the background.
Marcus breaks the silence, his voice steady.
"But we're not kids anymore, and we deserve the truth."
Isaac looks at me, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear.
I pull my hands away from them, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice trembling.
"I never meant to hurt you."
I take a deep breath and continue, "That night, I remember the sound of dishes breaking in the kitchen. Then Marcus's angry shouts came from the garage. The rain was pouring down, and I ran through it, not knowing where I was going."
As I open my mouth to continue, my phone vibrates against the leather armrest.
I grab it, grateful for the interruption.
But as I read the notification, my heart sinks.
"Mr. Weber, regarding the estate of your great-aunt Margaret..."
I read aloud, my voice cracking.
I stare at the phone screen, my hands shaking as I process the message.
Setting it face-down on the leather armrest, I turn to Marcus and Isaac.
They're sitting uncomfortably close on the theater couch, their legs almost touching.
The notification details the specifics of my inheritance—property deeds, stock portfolios, offshore accounts.
It's all so overwhelming.
I can't handle this alone.
Isaac slides forward, leaving Marcus behind, and moves within inches of my face.
His warm breath hits my cheek as he whispers his suggestion.
"Maybe we should start fresh together."
I lean back in my recliner, wiping away the tears that have been streaming down my face.
The dim lighting of the theater casts a shadow across Isaac's features, his eyes filled with sincerity as he kneels beside me.
Marcus remains on the couch, his posture tense but no longer angry.
I pick up my phone again, scrolling through the details of Margaret's estate—a vineyard in Napa Valley, three thoroughbred horses, and a collection of rare art.
My voice steadies as I ask them both to come with me tomorrow to meet the estate lawyer.
Isaac immediately agrees while Marcus hesitates before nodding.
As I look at them both, I realize this is our chance to finally make things right.
I sit across from Mr. Patterson, the estate lawyer, in his mahogany-lined office.
Isaac and Marcus flank me in matching leather chairs.
My hands grip the armrests as I ask, "So, how much is she worth?"
Patterson adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses and opens a thick folder.
He clears his throat before speaking.
"The vineyard alone is valued at 500 million dollars. The horse breeding operations bring in an additional 2 to 20 million annually. And then there's the art collection, stored in climate-controlled vaults. That's another 10 to 100 million."
Isaac lets out a low whistle, while Marcus leans forward, his shoulder pressing against mine.
Patterson continues, "And then there are the offshore accounts..."
He rattles off a series of numbers that make my head spin.
Finally, he reaches the final figure.
I stand up abruptly, knocking over my water glass.
"Let's not waste this chance."
I lean forward in Patterson's leather chair, my hands gripping the armrests as he pulls up detailed spreadsheets on his monitor.
The offshore accounts span multiple countries - Switzerland, Cayman Islands, and Singapore.
Patterson scrolls through endless rows of numbers, each one representing a staggering amount of money.
Isaac lets out a sharp intake of breath when the total finally appears: 230 billion dollars.
It's all perfectly legal, but managed discreetly for tax purposes.
Marcus reaches for my shoulder, steadying me as the room starts to spin.
Isaac breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.
"With this kind of money, we could change everything, couldn't we?"
Marcus nods slowly, his eyes locked on mine. "But we need to be smart about it; one wrong move and it could all disappear."
I pull out my phone and start searching for top financial advisors while still sitting in Patterson's chair.
The wealth management firms that come up specialize in ultra-high net worth individuals, but none have handled fortunes of this magnitude.
Isaac peers over my shoulder, pointing at Blackstone's profile.
Marcus paces behind us, his voice filled with urgency.
"Whoever we choose, they need to be able to keep up with this level of wealth."
Patterson clears his throat, drawing our attention back to him.
"I've worked with Margaret's finances for years. I think I can recommend someone."
He scribbles a name on a piece of paper and hands it to me: Gerard Thompson.
"He's managed Margaret's portfolio for the past decade. Discreet, reliable, and one of the best in the business."
I dial the number, and after a few rings, a woman answers.
"Gerard Thompson's office. How can I help you?"
"Hi, I'm looking for Mr. Thompson," I say, trying to sound confident.
"Can you hold for just a moment?" she asks before putting me on hold.
A few seconds later, a deep voice comes on the line.
"Hello? Who is this?"
I take a deep breath before speaking.
"My name is Shane Weber. I'm Margaret Bell's great-nephew." There's a pause on the other end of the line, and then he says, "Ah, yes. Margaret spoke highly of you. How can I be of service?"
"I recently inherited her estate," I explain.
"I'm in need of a financial advisor who can help me manage her assets."
There's another pause before he speaks again.
"I'd be happy to help you. When would you like to meet?"
"How about tomorrow morning?" I suggest.
"Perfect," he says.
"I'll clear my schedule."
We exchange pleasantries before hanging up.
I look at Marcus and Isaac, who are both watching me intently.
"It's set," I say, my voice shaking slightly as I end the call.
I nod at Marcus's suggestion while gathering my papers from Patterson's desk.
The late afternoon sun casts long shadows through the office windows.
I check my watch - it's already 4:30 PM.
"Let's meet here at 7 AM tomorrow," I say, glancing at my watch.
"That gives us two hours before Thompson arrives."
Isaac offers, "I'll bring coffee and breakfast."
A smile tugs at my lips as I remember our mornings in the foster home when he'd sneak me his toast.
We walk to the elevator, Marcus's hand resting on my lower back.
I tense for a moment before stepping forward quickly, pressing the lobby button.