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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 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.
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's wealth more than their relationship,ultimately choosing someone with greater financial resources. Her departure marks a turning point in Shane's life,freeing him to pursue other opportunities. Her actions highlight her superficial nature and the societal emphasis on material possessions.
Unnamed Adoptive Parents
They are Shane's adoptive parents who kicked him out when he was seventeen due to financial difficulties. They are heartless,selfcentered,and cruel. The father despised Shane from the start,treating him like an outsider. The mother showed no maternal love,prioritizing her own comforts over Shane’s needs. Their rejection drives Shane’s determination to succeed without their support.
I was an orphan and was raised in foster care.
I had been broke my entire life and even at the age of twenty-one, things hadn’t changed much.
My girlfriend left me for a richer guy, stating that she couldn’t spend her life in poverty.
I had no one to turn to, no one to support me.
But little did everyone know, my life was about to change drastically.
I was the heir to the only multibillionaire family in the world.
The news of my inheritance spread like wildfire.
Everyone who had once labeled me as a failure and come from nothing, now wanted to be friends with me.
But I wasn’t having it.
Those who had mocked me, insulted me, and broken my heart would soon bow down at my feet.
I would make sure they all knew their place and respected me.
I sat across from Mr. Davidson, the man who was in charge of my late grandfather’s business and fortune.
His office was made of mahogany wood, with a desk and shelves that were also made of the same material.
The room was painted a light brown color and had a large window that let in plenty of sunlight.
There were two doors on either side of the room, one leading to a small bathroom and the other to a closet.
The walls were adorned with several paintings and photographs of my grandfather and his accomplishments.
Mr. Davidson sat behind his desk, going over some papers.
He was an older man, probably in his sixties, with gray hair and a kind face.
He wore glasses perched on the end of his nose and had a friendly smile.
After a few moments, he looked up from the papers and cleared his throat to get my attention.
"Ah, yes," he said, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose.
"I believe we have everything ready for you."
He slid a stack of papers across the desk towards me.
I picked them up and began to scan through them.
The first page was a list of all the assets I had inherited from my grandfather, including private islands in the Caribbean, three mega yachts docked in Monaco, penthouses in major cities around the world, and a fleet of luxury cars. The second page listed all the investments my grandfather had made over the years, including stocks and bonds in various companies, as well as real estate properties.
The third page was a breakdown of how much money I had inherited from my grandfather's will, which included cash accounts in various banks around the world.
As I flipped through the pages, my eyes widened at the sheer amount of wealth I had inherited.
It was more than I could have ever imagined!
I felt like I was dreaming, like this was all just some wild fantasy that would end at any moment.
But deep down inside me knew it wasn't true; this was real life now!
Mr. Davidson watched me read through the papers before speaking again.
"There are also some other things that need to be taken care of," he said.
"Your grandfather had several credit cards that were used for business expenses. We've canceled those cards already but there's one more card that needs your attention."
He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a blue Citibank card with a platinum W on it. "This is your personal card," he explained.
"Why would I need a personal card when I have all this wealth?" I asked, puzzled.
Mr. Davidson leaned back in his chair, his expression turning serious. "Your grandfather wanted you to understand the value of money and responsibility before you access the full inheritance."
I frowned, trying to grasp the implication. "So, you're saying there's a catch?"
"Yes," Mr. Davidson replied, nodding.
"The catch is that you have to prove yourself worthy of the full inheritance. You will need to go through a mentorship program that I have set up for you."
I sat back in my chair, intrigued.
"What kind of mentorship program?" "The program will last for six months," Mr. Davidson explained.
"During that time, you will meet with me once a week to review your spending habits and investments. I will also provide you with tutorials on how to invest your money wisely and make smart financial decisions."
I looked down at the sleek black credit card between my fingers.
"So, how much can I spend with this card?"
Mr. Davidson leaned forward, his eyes serious.
"You can use the card for any personal expenses, but remember that you will need to justify every purchase you make. The goal is for you to learn how to budget and manage your money effectively."
I nodded, taking a deep breath.
"And what happens if I don't meet the requirements of the mentorship program?"
Mr. Davidson's expression turned grave.
"If you fail to meet the requirements, you will only receive a small portion of your grandfather's inheritance. But if you succeed, you will receive the full amount." I felt a surge of determination course through my veins.
I was determined to prove myself and show Mr. Davidson that I was worthy of my grandfather's fortune.
"So, what are the specific requirements of the mentorship program?" "There are several requirements," Mr. Davidson replied.
"First, you must meet with me once a week to review your spending habits and investments. Second, you must complete a series of tutorials on investing and budgeting. Third, you must make a minimum of one charitable donation per month. And finally, you must not spend more than $10,000 per month on personal expenses."
I nodded, taking a deep breath.
"I can do that," I said confidently.
"But what if I want to buy something big, like a house or a car?"
Mr. Davidson shook his head.
"Your grandfather started with a small apartment," he said.
"He worked hard and saved his money before he made any big purchases. I expect the same from you."
I gripped the credit card tightly in my hand, feeling a surge of frustration course through me.
I wanted to tell Mr. Davidson that he didn't understand what it was like to be poor, to have nothing.
But deep down inside me knew that he was right.
Sitting in the leather chair across from Mr. Davidson, I pulled out my phone and opened my calendar app.
"Okay, when do you want to meet each week?" he asked.
I glanced up at him.
"How about Tuesday afternoons at 2 PM?"
"That sounds good," he replied, nodding.
"We'll need about two hours each time."
I typed out the recurring appointment on my phone, feeling my hands shake slightly as the reality of this situation finally started to sink in.
Mr. Davidson got up and walked over to a nearby printer.
He pressed a few buttons on his computer and then came back over to me, handing me a piece of paper that had just been printed.
"This is your schedule for the next six months," he explained.
"We will cover topics such as investment basics, property management, and charitable giving strategies." I took the paper from him and looked it over quickly.
It seemed like we would be covering a lot of ground during our sessions together.
"I hope this helps," Mr. Davidson said, noticing my reaction.
"It's a lot to take in, I know. But don't worry, you'll learn everything you need to know."
I nodded, trying to feel more confident about the situation.
"Thank you," I said sincerely.
"I really appreciate your help."
He smiled kindly at me and then stood up again.
"Well, I think that's all for today," he said.
"But before you go, there's one more thing I want to give you."
He walked back over to his desk and opened up a drawer.
He pulled out a sleek black credit card and handed it to me.
"This is your personal credit card," he explained.
"You can use it for any personal expenses that you may have. However, keep in mind that all purchases made with this card will be monitored closely. So make sure that you only use it for legitimate expenses." I took the credit card from him and looked it over carefully.
It was made of heavy black plastic and had my name embossed on it in silver letters.
I felt a surge of excitement course through me as I realized that this card represented a whole new world of possibilities for me.
"Thank you," I said again, tucking the credit card into my wallet.
"I won't let you down."
"I know you won't," Mr. Davidson replied with a smile.
"Now get out of here and go enjoy your day."
I stood up and shook his hand before heading towards the door.
As I reached for the handle, Mr. Davidson called out, "Remember, it's not just about spending wisely; it's about understanding your legacy."
I paused, turning back to face him. "What do you mean by that?"
He leaned against his desk, his eyes thoughtful. "Your grandfather built this empire with a purpose beyond wealth. He wanted you to find yours."
Standing in the elevator after leaving Mr. Davidson's office, I pulled out the black credit card and studied it.
My name was embossed in silver letters, giving it a luxurious feel.
I turned it over in my hands, feeling its weight.
It was heavier than any card I had ever held before.
The black color gave it a sleek appearance, and the silver letters added a touch of elegance.
I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement as I held it in my hands.
This card represented a new chapter in my life, one filled with possibilities and opportunities.
I thought about all the things I could buy with this card - designer clothes, expensive jewelry, luxury cars.
But then I remembered what Mr. Davidson had said about being responsible with my spending.
I knew that I had to be careful not to overspend or make reckless purchases.
As the elevator doors opened to the lobby, I walked past the marble columns and ignored the receptionist's sudden friendly smile.
While sitting on a bench in Central Park, I pulled out my wallet and took out the credit card again.
I couldn't believe that I actually had it in my possession.
I ran my fingers along the leather edges of my wallet, feeling the smooth texture.
As I did so, I noticed that one section felt slightly stiff.
I turned my wallet over and examined it more closely.
There was a small tear in the lining of the wallet.
I pulled it back and saw a piece of yellowed paper inside.
I carefully removed it from the wallet and unfolded it.
It was a note, written in elegant handwriting.
My hands trembled as I read the words.
"Dear Shane, if you're reading this, you've already met Mr. Davidson..."
"...and you must be wondering why I chose him to guide you," the note continued.
I looked up, my mind racing with questions. "Why didn't Grandpa ever tell me about this before?" I muttered to myself, feeling a mix of curiosity and frustration.
"Maybe he wanted you to discover it on your own," a voice said beside me.
Startled by the voice, I whipped around to find a well-dressed elderly man sitting on the bench next to me.
His silver hair was neatly styled, and he wore a tailored suit that screamed of old money.
But what caught my attention were his eyes - they held a warmth that I rarely saw in people of his stature.
He kept nodding, a knowing smile on his weathered face.
I clutched the note tighter, suspicious of this stranger who seemed too interested in my private business.
When I started to stand up, he raised his hand and said, "Your grandfather used to buy coffee from that small shop on 5th Avenue every morning."
My heart skipped a beat.
The man was talking about Grandpa's favorite coffee shop - information that wasn't public knowledge.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice tinged with both suspicion and intrigue.
He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. "Let's just say I'm an old friend of your grandfather's, and I have a message for you."
"What kind of message?" I pressed, my curiosity piqued despite myself.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cream-colored envelope.
It was made of expensive paper, and I could feel the smooth texture against my fingers.
He handed it to me, saying, "This is for you."
I stared at the envelope, my mind racing with questions.
But before I could ask any of them, the man stood up from the bench and straightened his suit.
"I should be going now," he said, his voice filled with a sense of finality.
I watched as he walked away, disappearing behind a group of tourists near the fountain.
My heart was pounding in my chest as I turned the envelope over in my hands.
There was a red wax seal on the back, with an intricate "W" pressed into it.
It was the same symbol I had seen on some of Grandpa's paperwork.
People streamed past me in the park, but I sat frozen on the bench, clutching both the mysterious envelope and Grandpa's hidden note.
I took a deep breath and called out, "Wait! Why should I trust you?"
The man paused, glancing back with a gentle smile. "Because your grandfather trusted me with his most precious secret."
My grip on the envelope tightened as I asked, "And what secret would that be?"
My hands trembled as I broke the red wax seal.
The "W" crumbled into pieces that scattered across my lap.
The thick cream paper unfolded with a crisp sound, revealing elegant handwriting in blue ink.
A small black and white photo slipped out of the envelope and fell onto my lap.
It was a picture of my grandfather as a young man, standing next to the elderly stranger I had just met.
On the back of the photo, there was a date written in pencil: "1965."
I scanned the first lines of the letter, my eyes widening as I read the words.
"Your grandfather and I made a pact fifty years ago. The inheritance you received is only half of what awaits you."
I shove the letter and photo into my jacket pocket, scanning the thinning crowd around the fountain.
The elderly man's gray suit stands out against the casual tourist wear, moving steadily toward Fifth Avenue.
I grab my backpack, nearly dropping my new credit card in my haste, and weave through families taking photos.
The man turns left at the park exit, his measured pace suggesting he wants me to follow.
My shoes scrape against the concrete as I dodge a hot dog cart and two cyclists.
I hurry along Fifth Avenue, keeping the gray suit in sight as it moves steadily through the afternoon crowd.
My breath comes in short bursts while dodging businesspeople and shoppers.
The letter and photo bounce against my chest inside my jacket.
Twenty feet ahead, he pauses at a crosswalk, giving me a chance to close the gap.
The "Don't Walk" sign flashes as I approach, but he steps off the curb anyway, forcing me to jog the final stretch.
I catch up to him just as he reaches the other side of the street.
"Why did Grandpa keep this from me?" I demand, my voice barely steady.
He turns to face me, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and urgency. "Because some secrets are meant to protect, not to hide."
He leads me to a small café tucked between two designer boutiques.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts out onto the sidewalk, mingling with the distant hum of the city.
We step inside, and the soft glow of pendant lights illuminates our path.
The café is dimly lit, with dark wood accents and plush burgundy booths.
A few patrons sit scattered throughout, their conversations hushed as they sip their drinks.
The elderly man guides me to a corner booth, away from the other customers.
We slide into the seats, and he motions for me to place my belongings on the table.
I set my backpack down and pull out the letter and photo once more, placing them in front of him.
The waitress arrives, wearing a black apron and carrying menus.
She sets them down before us, but the man waves her away, his voice low and commanding.
"Two black coffees, please."
She nods and disappears behind the counter without asking my preference. I watch as he studies the letter and photo once more, his eyes scanning the contents with a distant look in his eyes.
After a moment of silence, he lifts his gaze to meet mine.
"The story begins long before you were born," he says, his voice filled with a mix of nostalgia and regret.
I lean forward, my curiosity piqued. "What kind of pact did you make with him?"
He sighs deeply, his fingers tracing the edge of the photo. "We vowed to protect something far greater than ourselves, something that could change everything."
The elderly man stirs his coffee slowly, his weathered hands trembling slightly as he pushes the old photo back across the table.
I lean forward, my elbows pressed against the worn wood surface, and whisper urgently about needing to understand the pact.
He glances around the quiet café before pulling out a small leather notebook from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
Opening it to a marked page, he slides it toward me, revealing a series of numbers and locations written in my grandfather's familiar handwriting.
When I reach for the notebook, he pulls it back, his eyes locked on mine.
"These are coordinates," he explains quietly.
"They lead to secure vaults containing evidence that could destroy multiple Fortune 500 companies."
My breath catches in my throat.
"Grandpa was more than just wealthy," he continues, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and awe.