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MidReal Story
The Billionaire Reversal
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 previously impoverished orphan who was raised in foster care. He is resilient, determined, and proud. Shane had a tough childhood with no family, living in poverty and being treated poorly by those around him. His life changed when he inherited his grandfather's vast fortune, making him the wealthiest person in the world. Despite being criticized for his circumstances, he vowed to rise above his past and make those who judged him pay for their ignorance.
Alex
He is a former high school bully. He is arrogant, dismissive, and entitled. Alex tormented Shane in school but was eventually humiliated by Shane’s knowledge of his parents' flaws during a public debate at the same club where Penelope showed understanding. The encounter left Alex embarrassed and served as a reminder of Shane’s past struggles and the injustices he faced in his youth.
Ethan
He is Shane's best friend and confidant. He is loyal, honest, and supportive. Ethan stood by Shane despite his tough circumstances and was one of the few people who treated him with respect. When Shane's wealth became public, Ethan was one of the first to congratulate him, showcasing their deep friendship rooted in trust and shared history. He remains a crucial figure in Shane’s life as he navigates his newfound status.
I was an orphan, a poor one at that.
No family, no relatives, no nothing.
I was taken in by the state and put into foster care.
My first few foster homes were okay, I mean they were not the best, but I could live with them.
The first one was even tolerable.
They had a few other foster kids living there and we were all treated pretty equally.
It was not until I moved to my third foster home that things took a turn for the worse.
This particular foster home was run by a couple who did it strictly for the money.
They did not care about the kids in their care, just about the check they received each month from the state.
They made sure each of us knew that we were not welcome there, that we were only being kept until a "real" family came along to take our place.
It was not until I turned sixteen and got a job that I was able to leave that awful foster home behind and move into my own apartment.
It was a small studio, but it was mine and I did not have to answer to anyone else.
I was finally free.
But even though I had my own place, I could not afford school anymore, so I never finished high school or went on to college.
That did not stop me, though.
I sat at my small kitchen table, staring at the stack of unpaid bills in front of me, when my phone buzzed.
Sasha's name flashed across the screen and I debated whether or not to answer it.
We had not spoken in months, and I was not sure I wanted to talk to her now.
But something compelled me to pick up the phone and say hello.
"Hey, Sasha."
"Hi, Shane."
Her voice was cold, detached.
She did not waste any time on small talk or pleasantries.
Instead, she launched right into the reason for her call.
"Look, Shane, I need to talk to you about us."
"Us?"
I repeated, confused.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I think we've grown apart. We don't have anything in common anymore."
I could hear music playing in the background as she spoke.
It sounded expensive, like the kind of music they played at fancy restaurants.
I realized that Sasha must be out somewhere nice, somewhere that I could never afford to go.
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"But what about all the memories we made together? Don't they count for anything?"
"Memories are just that," she said dismissively.
"They're in the past. And right now, I need someone who can give me a better future." "A better future?"
I repeated, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Derek," she said matter-of-factly.
"He's a finance executive. He drives a Tesla and has a penthouse apartment. He can give me everything I want."
I felt a wave of nausea wash over me as I listened to her words.
It sounded like she had found someone who could give her all the material things she had always wanted.
But what about love?
What about connection?
Didn't those things matter anymore?
"So that's it, then," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
"You're just going to throw away everything we had for some guy with money?"
"It's not just about the money," she said defensively.
"It's about finding someone who can give me a better life. And right now, Derek is the one who can do that."
I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as I listened to her words.
"But what about love, Sasha? Does that not matter to you anymore?"
"Love doesn't pay the bills, Shane," she replied, her voice tinged with impatience.
"Maybe not, but it keeps you warm when the world turns cold," I said softly, hoping she'd hear the truth in my words.
After I hung up the phone with Sasha, I stared at it for a long time, my eyes blurred by tears.
My thumb hovered over her contact information, hesitating.
I could delete it and be done with the painful memories.
But before I could make a decision, my phone screen suddenly lit up with a notification.
It was an email from Second Chance Education Fund, a local organization that offered scholarships to individuals seeking to complete their GED.
I opened the email and read it through once, then twice, making sure I understood what I was seeing.
It was an offer for a full scholarship to complete my GED at night school.
My hands were shaking as I read through the requirements: maintain a B average, attend classes twice a week, complete homework assignments.
The timing of the offer felt cruelly ironic.
Just minutes ago, I had been talking to Sasha about building a better future for myself.
Now, here was an opportunity to do just that.
But could I really trust this offer?
I decided to screenshot the email and forward it to Ethan for his opinion.
"Should I?" I typed in the message, hoping he would have some insight into the situation.
His reply came almost instantly: "Absolutely."
I walk into the Second Chance Education Center, clutching my enrollment paperwork tightly in my hand.
The fluorescent lights overhead cast a sterile glow over the sparse classroom.
Five other students are already seated, scattered around the room with their heads bowed, avoiding eye contact.
Ms. Rodriguez, the instructor, greets me with a practiced smile and takes my forms from me.
She reviews them quickly, nodding as she checks off each box.
"Welcome to the program," she says, handing me a pencil and a placement test.
"Please take a seat near the front."
I make my way to an empty desk near the whiteboard and take a seat.
Ms. Rodriguez begins to explain the instructions for the placement test, but I tune her out, my mind wandering back to Sasha's words on the phone earlier that day.
"You'll never amount to anything," she had said.
"You're just wasting your time."
I grip my pencil tightly, trying to push her words out of my head.
The test questions start off basic: adding fractions, identifying parts of speech.
As I work through each question, I feel my confidence growing slightly.
When Ms. Rodriguez collects our papers at the end of the hour, she glances over my work and nods approvingly.
"You'll do just fine here," she says with a smile.
Ms. Rodriguez hands me my graded placement test, pointing out the areas where I excelled.
The fluorescent lights overhead cast a glare on the page, but I can see the neat rows of check marks in the margin.
"You tested very high in mathematics," she says, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.
"Your study plan will be tailored to your strengths and weaknesses."
She pulls out a folder filled with papers and begins to explain the program in more detail.
"You'll attend classes twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday evenings from six to eight. You'll also be expected to complete homework assignments and participate in online discussions."
I listen intently, my fingers gripping the edge of my desk.
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, but it's not from nerves this time.
It's from excitement.
For the first time in weeks, I feel like I have a chance to turn things around.
I can do this.
I can complete this program and earn my GED.
I can prove Sasha wrong. Ms. Rodriguez hands me a copy of my personalized study plan and explains that I can complete the GED program in just four months at this pace, faster than the average student.
I take the paper from her, studying the neat rows of check marks and dates.
For a moment, I imagine myself walking across a graduation stage, diploma in hand.
A sense of pride swells inside me, and I know that I'm ready for this challenge.
"When can I start classes?" "How about tomorrow evening?" she asks, smiling at me.
"I'll make sure to have all of your materials ready for you then."
I nod firmly, already picturing myself walking into class tomorrow night.
"Thank you," I say, tucking my study plan into my bag.
"I won't let you down."
Walking out of Second Chance Education Center, I clutch my study plan against my chest.
I pause on the concrete steps outside, watching as the evening traffic rushes by.
I pull out my phone and check the screen - three missed calls from Sasha.
I delete the notifications without a second thought and pull up my work schedule instead.
A few quick texts to my boss at the diner, and we've worked out a new schedule that fits around my Tuesday and Thursday classes.
Before heading to my evening shift, I make a quick stop at the dollar store to pick up some notebooks and pencils.
As I stand in line at the register, I overhear two teenagers behind me snickering about the "old guy" buying school supplies.
I turn around and give them a wry smile.
"Old guy's got dreams too, you know," I say, raising an eyebrow.
One of them shrugs, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah, well, good luck with that."
I push through the glass doors of the diner, the familiar bell chiming overhead.
The evening rush is starting to pick up, with Sarah refilling coffee cups and Mike flipping burgers on the sizzling grill.
I tie my apron around my waist while telling them about enrolling in the GED program.
Sarah lets out a little squeal and pulls me into a hug.
"That's amazing!" she exclaims, her eyes shining with excitement.
Mike nods in approval, his thick beard bobbing as he speaks.
"Good for you, man. You're really going for it."
Just then, our manager Tom emerges from his office, a scowl etched on his face.
He glances at me with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.
"What's all this I hear about you changing your schedule?" he asks gruffly.
I take a deep breath and explain my situation - that I've enrolled in the GED program and need Tuesday and Thursday evenings off to attend classes.
Tom crosses his arms over his chest, his expression unyielding.
"I don't know if that's going to work," he says, shaking his head.
"We need all hands on deck during those nights. It's our busiest time." I feel a knot forming in my stomach as I realize that Tom isn't going to make this easy for me.
But I stand my ground, remembering Ms. Rodriguez's words of encouragement earlier that day.
"I understand that it might be inconvenient," I say calmly, "but this is really important to me. I'm willing to work extra shifts on other nights to make up for it."
Tom snorts in derision.
"You think you can just waltz in here and change your schedule whenever you want?" he sneers.
"This isn't some fancy college where you can do whatever you please. This is a diner. We have rules."
I feel my anger rising, but I keep my voice steady.
"I understand that there are rules," I say firmly, "but I'm not asking for special treatment. I'm asking for a chance to better myself. And if that means finding another job, then so be it." The other servers fall silent, watching the exchange between Tom and me with wide eyes.
For a moment, it feels like the entire diner has come to a standstill.
Then Tom turns on his heel and storms back into his office, slamming the door behind him.
I let out a shaky breath as Sarah places a hand on my shoulder.
"Don't worry about him," she whispers reassuringly.
"He's just grumpy because he can't stand the thought of anyone doing better than him."
Mike nods in agreement, adding, "You've got us behind you, man. We'll cover for you if we have to."
I wipe down the counter after the dinner rush, replaying Tom's outburst in my head.
Sarah sidles up to me with a fresh pot of coffee, refilling my cup without asking.
She leans against the counter, closer than usual, her perfume mingling with the rich aroma of coffee.
"You know," she says, fidgeting with the strings of her apron, "I started my GED last year but never finished."
I look up at her, surprised.
She's always seemed so confident, so efficient in her work.
"I didn't know that," I say, taking a sip of my coffee.
She shrugs, her eyes darting around the diner before meeting mine again.
"Maybe we can study together sometime?" she whispers, her fingers accidentally-on-purpose brushing against my hand as she reaches for the coffee pot.
I finish wiping down the last table as Sarah gathers her things from the break room.
The diner's closing routine feels different tonight - slower, more deliberate.
I watch as she emerges wearing a light jacket over her uniform, her usually messy ponytail now neatly fixed.
Her smile brightens the dim restaurant as she approaches me, Tom watching us suspiciously from his office.
"What time do you get out of class on Tuesdays and Thursdays?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I check my schedule, the words blurring together before my tired eyes.
"Ten PM," I reply, feeling the weight of the long day settle into my bones.
She nods thoughtfully, tapping her chin with a manicured fingernail.
"Meet me at the downtown library at 10:30. We can study together until midnight."
Despite my exhaustion, I know I need all the help I can get.
I nod in agreement, tucking my apron into my backpack.
We walk together to the employee parking lot, our breath visible in the cold night air.
She tells me more about her GED journey while fishing her car keys from her purse.
I mention taking the bus, but she insists on driving me to the library tomorrow night.
The warmth in her voice is a stark contrast to Sasha's recent coldness.
As Sarah gets into her blue Honda Civic, she hesitates before rolling down the window.
"Would you like to grab coffee before class tomorrow?" she asks, her voice laced with a hint of nervousness.
I agree, watching as her taillights disappear into the late-night traffic.
The next evening, as I wait outside the diner, Sarah pulls up with a smile that seems to light up the entire street.
"Hey," she says, leaning over to unlock the passenger door. "I was thinking we could try that new café on Elm Street before heading to class."
I slide into the seat, grateful for the warmth of the car. "Sounds perfect," I reply, feeling a sense of anticipation that goes beyond just studying.
