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MidReal Story
The Billionaire's Revenge
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.
Isabel
She is Shane's best friend, standing by him through thick and thin despite his rough upbringing. She is loyal, kind, and supportive. Isabel was one of the few people who treated Shane with compassion and understanding when others rejected him. Her friendship with Shane was a constant source of strength, helping him navigate the challenges of his past and present.
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 pauper.
I was so poor that I had to rely on charity to get by.
I was so poor that I had to eat scraps from the trash to fill my belly.
I was so poor that I had to drink water from a dirty stream because I didn't have any other source of water.
But all of that changed when I turned eighteen.
I wasn't rich anymore.
I wasn't a pauper.
I wasn't an orphan.
I became the richest man in the world at the age of eighteen.
But before that, my life was hard.
So hard that it seemed like there was no way out.
I was just going to accept my fate until I died, until I was cold and bitter.
But then something happened, and my life changed forever.
Something happened, and I got a second chance at life.
But even with a second chance, I still faced many problems.
Many people judged me, criticized me, and hated me because of who I was and where I came from.
They didn't think I deserved to be where I was, and they were right in some ways, but not in others.
You see, they didn't understand me like I did, and they didn't understand my story like I did.
I spot Penelope at her favorite coffee shop.
She's wearing that designer dress she always bragged about.
I can see her through the window laughing and joking with her new boyfriend, some trust fund kid named Bradley.
I clench my hands into fists as I remember her last words to me.
"You'll never amount to anything," she said.
"You're nothing, and you'll always be nothing."
I push open the door and walk inside.
The bell above the door chimes as I enter.
The laughter stops as they see me approach their table.
Penelope's face drains of color as she sees me in my new Armani suit.
It's a far cry from the threadbare clothes she last saw me in.
Bradley starts to stand up, but I raise my hand to stop him.
I pull up a chair uninvited and sit down at their table.
"Hello, Penelope," I say, my voice steady and calm.
The coffee shop falls silent as everyone stares at me.
Penelope's hands shake around her coffee cup, and Bradley shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
I take my time, removing my designer sunglasses and placing them on the table.
The barista approaches our table, but I wave her away.
Penelope tries to speak, but her voice catches in her throat.
I lean forward slightly, keeping my eyes locked on hers.
The expensive cologne she always said I could never afford wafts across the table.
"Surprised to see me, Penelope?" I ask, a hint of amusement in my voice.
She swallows hard, her eyes darting to Bradley for support.
"I... I didn't expect you'd ever come back like this," she finally manages, her voice barely above a whisper.
I savor the discomfort radiating from both of them as I lean back in my chair, deliberately taking my time.
Penelope's coffee cup rattles against its saucer as she sets it down, her hands shaking too much to hold it steady.
Bradley's earlier bravado has evaporated, his eyes darting between me and the exit.
I check my Rolex - the same model Penelope once pointed out in a magazine, mocking me for never being able to afford it.
The irony isn't lost on me.
After letting the silence stretch painfully, I push my chair back with a screech against the floor.
I rise slowly from my chair, letting the metal legs scrape against the floor for dramatic effect.
Penelope flinches at the sound while Bradley's eyes dart between me and the door.
I adjust my suit jacket and reach into the inner pocket.
My fingers close around a thick manila envelope.
Penelope's eyes widen as I withdraw it and place it on the table between us.
The cafe's other patrons pretend not to be watching, but I catch their furtive glances out of the corner of my eye.
I tap the envelope with one finger, my new Rolex catching the light.
The envelope sits between us like a loaded weapon.
I keep my finger pressed on it, watching Penelope's eyes dart between my face and the package.
Her perfectly manicured hand inches forward, hesitates, then retreats.
Bradley shifts in his seat, trying to get a glimpse of what's inside.
I drag the moment out, enjoying how Penelope's makeup can't hide the growing pallor of her skin.
Finally, she reaches for the envelope again, her trembling fingers touching the paper.
I slide it just beyond her grasp, watching her flinch.
"You once said I'd never be able to afford your lifestyle," I say, pushing the envelope closer again.
"Consider this my resignation from your expectations."
I slide the envelope closer to Penelope, watching her manicured fingers hesitate before grasping it.
The cafe's quiet chatter and clinking cups fade into the background as she breaks the seal.
Her eyes widen at the sight of fresh hundred-dollar bills, neatly stacked and bound with a paper strip.
Bradley leans forward, his coffee forgotten in his hand.
I notice a small coffee stain forming on his cheap tie as he gawks at the money.
Penelope's hands tremble as she thumbs through the stack, her breath catching in her throat.
The amount is exactly what she said I'd never make in a year.
She drops the envelope, letting it fall to the table with a soft thud.
A few bills spill out, their crisp edges fluttering like tiny wings.
I turn and walk away, leaving them to their disbelief.
As I reach the door, a blast of cold air rushes in when another customer enters.
The stack of hundreds on the table seems to leap into the air, scattering across the cafe floor like autumn leaves.
Customers gasp and scramble to grab the bills.
Penelope dives under tables, her designer dress dragging on the dirty floor as she snatches at money.
Bradley stands frozen, coffee still dripping from his tie.
I turn back slowly, watching the chaos unfold.
Some bills flutter near my feet, but I make no move to pick them up.
Penelope scrambles to her feet, clutching a handful of bills, her voice a mix of desperation and disbelief.
"Why would you do this, Shane?" she demands, her eyes searching mine for an answer.
I shrug, a small smile playing on my lips. "Sometimes freedom is worth more than money."
I turn away from her, leaving her to her scrambling.
The cafe's bell chimes as I push the door open, letting in another gust of wind.
More bills swirl around me, but I ignore them.
Behind me, Penelope's shrill voice competes with the excited exclamations of other customers as they grab at the money.
Bradley calls my name, but I don't look back.
My shoes click against the sidewalk as I walk to my waiting car.
The sound of chaos fades with each step.
I walk through the parking lot toward my black Mercedes.
The same model she once pointed out in a magazine, saying it was her dream car.
My Italian leather shoes click against the asphalt.
Behind me, I can still hear the cafe's customers scrambling for loose bills.
The car's remote chirps as I press the button, and I open the door.
The new leather smell envelops me as I slide into the seat.
The steering wheel feels cool under my hands as I adjust my position.
Through the windshield, I see Penelope burst out of the cafe, mascara smeared, still clutching wrinkled hundreds.
I insert the key and turn it.
"Shane, wait!" Penelope's voice cracks as she stumbles toward the car.
I pause, engine purring, and glance at her through the rearview mirror.
"Was it all just a game to you?" she pleads, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
I grip the leather steering wheel tighter, feeling the engine's vibration through my palms.
Penelope's mascara-streaked face grows smaller in my rearview mirror as she stands in the middle of the parking lot, still clutching those crumpled bills.
I shift into drive, the transmission responding with a smooth click.
The Mercedes glides forward, its tires crunching over a stray hundred-dollar bill.
Penelope's voice carries across the lot, screaming my name, but I press the accelerator harder.
As I drive away from the cafe, my hands still trembling on the steering wheel, I make a sharp turn.
Something slides across the passenger seat, catching my attention.
I drive my Mercedes down the winding coastal road, the engine purring smoothly beneath me.
The sun casts a golden glow over the ocean, and the salty air fills my lungs.
I take a sharp turn, and the car hugs the curve effortlessly.
The gate to my new villa opens automatically as I approach, revealing a sprawling estate that stretches toward the private beachfront.
I park in the large garage, stepping out into the crisp air.
The scent of saltwater mingles with the fresh paint of the villa.
I walk through the chef's kitchen, admiring the high-end appliances and granite countertops.
Then I head to the martial arts Dojo, where I change into a gi and begin practicing forms.
The echo of Penelope's voice fades as I focus on each precise movement, finding solace in the rhythm of my own strength.
Mid-kick, I freeze.
The sharp knock echoing through my villa cuts through the silence, and sweat drips down my face.
I lower my leg, my gi sticking to my skin with each movement.
The knock comes again, more insistent this time.
I grab a towel and wipe my face, debating whether to answer.
Outside, the waves gently lap against the shore, a stark contrast to the pounding of my heart.
I cross the polished hardwood floor of the dojo, past the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that reflect my tense posture.
My bare feet make no sound as I move into the kitchen and then toward the front door.
Another knock, three rapid hits in succession.
I open the door to find Penelope standing there, her eyes fierce and determined.
"You can't just run away from everything, Shane," she says, her voice steady despite the storm in her eyes.
I lean against the doorframe, my expression guarded. "Why are you here, Penelope?"