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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 was the secret heir to a multibillion dollar inheritance. He is resilient,determined,and sarcastic. Shane faced a life of hardship,being labeled as a failure by those around him,including his abusive foster parents and a toxic girlfriend who left him for someone richer. After learning of his inheritance,he becomes wealthy beyond imagination. Despite initial struggles integrating his new persona,he seeks revenge on those who wronged him,embracing his newfound power with calculated ambition.
Grandfather
He is Shane's recently deceased grandfather who left him a vast fortune. He is wise,protective,and unjudging. Grandfather secretly took Shane under his wing while Shane was in foster care,providing him with small gifts and encouragement. After passing away,his will reveals Shane as his sole beneficiary,transforming his life forever. Through Grandfather's actions and legacy,Shane finds redemption and the means to challenge those who mistreated him,while also honoring the man who saw value in him when no one else did.
Penelope
She is Shane's exgirlfriend who left him for another man due to financial reasons. She is selfish,shallow,and dismissive. Penelope initially dated Shane to benefit from his potential wealth,but grew tired of his lack of resources and instead chose someone more affluent. Her breakup marked a turning point for Shane,allowing him to discover his true worth without her judgment or manipulation. Although she represents a past vulnerability for Shane,she serves as a reminder of the superficial connections he made in his former life.
My name is Shane Weber, and my life has been a hard broken road.
I was born to poor parents who were unable to take care of me, so they left me in an orphanage.
Luckily, I was adopted by a generous and kind-hearted couple.
However, my happiness was short-lived.
I soon found myself in foster care, bouncing around from one foster home to another.
All of the foster homes I've been placed in have been abusive and neglectful.
I've been called a failure my entire life and told that I would never amount to anything.
My now ex-girlfriend, Penelope, just left me for a richer guy.
She had been dating me for about two years, hoping that my luck would change, and I would become a wealthy man.
Unfortunately for her, that never happened, so she moved on to someone who had the financial security she desired.
I guess you could say I'm currently at a low point in my life.
I'm heartbroken and still in shock over the news I received today.
My girlfriend just left me about an hour ago, and I can't seem to shake off the pain she caused me.
As I sit on my bed in my small apartment, I can't help but think about how much of a failure I am.
I stare at the crumpled business card on my nightstand, the one the lawyer handed me at Grandfather's funeral last week.
My hands shake as I reach for my phone and punch in the numbers slowly.
Each ring amplifies my heartbeat, and I can't help but wonder what will happen next.
When Mr. Patterson answers, his voice is crisp and professional.
"Hello, is this Mr. Shane Weber?"
"Yes, it's me," I reply, my voice trembling slightly.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Weber. My name is Mr. Patterson, and I'm a lawyer from the law firm of Patterson and Associates. Do you remember meeting me last week at your grandfather's funeral?"
"Yes, of course," I respond, trying to compose myself.
"Good. I need to confirm your identity before we proceed with our conversation. Can you please tell me your date of birth?"
I provide him with the necessary information, and he asks a few more questions to verify my identity.
Once he's satisfied that I'm who I claim to be, he proceeds to explain the purpose of his call.
"Mr. Weber, as you know, your grandfather passed away recently. He left behind a significant inheritance for you, which includes stocks, properties, and offshore accounts."
My eyes widen in shock as I listen to him rattle off the details.
The numbers he quotes make my head spin, and I can't believe what I'm hearing. "Is this some kind of joke?" I ask him incredulously.
"No, Mr. Weber," he replies seriously.
"This is a legitimate inheritance that your grandfather left for you. He was a wealthy man, and he wanted to ensure that you were taken care of after his passing."
I sit there in stunned silence for a moment, trying to process everything he's just told me.
The thought of having all that money at my disposal is almost too much to handle.
I can't believe that my grandfather left me such a large inheritance when he barely knew me.
My other hand clenches into a fist as I think about Penelope's final words to me.
She said that she couldn't wait any longer for me to become rich so she could live comfortably.
Now that I have more money than I know what to do with, it's too late for us to be together again. "Mr. Weber?"
Mr. Patterson's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
"Yes?"
I lean forward in my rickety kitchen chair, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Yes, I'm still here," I reply, gripping the phone tightly.
"Good," he says, shuffling papers on the other end of the line.
"Now, let me explain how we can transfer the inheritance to you."
I nod eagerly, even though he can't see me.
"Okay," I say, my voice filled with anticipation.
"The process involves several steps," he explains.
"First, we need to obtain some legal documents from you. We'll need your identification, proof of address, and a few other things. Once we have those documents, we can proceed with the transfer."
I frown slightly as I listen to him.
"How long will that take?" I ask anxiously.
"Well, it depends on how quickly you can provide us with the necessary documents," he replies.
"But generally speaking, it should take no more than two weeks."
Two weeks?
That's a long time to wait for such a large sum of money.
But I guess it's better than nothing.
"Okay," I say finally, resigned to waiting for my inheritance.
"In addition to the legal documents, we'll also need to obtain bank authorizations and verify your identity through various means," Mr. Patterson continues.
"This is all part of our due diligence process to ensure that the inheritance is transferred to the rightful owner." I nod again, even though he can't see me.
"Yes, of course," I say.
"I understand the importance of verifying my identity."
"Good," Mr. Patterson says.
"Now, let me go over the list of required documents with you. Please make sure you have all of these items ready before we proceed with the transfer."
I grab a pen and start writing down the list of documents he provides me with.
My hand shakes slightly as I scribble down each item on a piece of paper.
"Okay, got it," I say once he finishes reading off the list.
"Great," Mr. Patterson says.
"Now, let's talk about tax implications. As you know, inheriting a large sum of money comes with certain tax obligations. We'll need to discuss how you plan to handle these taxes and ensure that you're in compliance with all relevant laws and regulations."
I sigh inwardly as he drones on about tax implications and financial planning.
After hanging up with Mr. Patterson, I pace back and forth in my cramped living room.
I keep checking my phone calendar, trying to find the best time to schedule an appointment with the lawyer.
The earliest available appointment is three days away, at 2 PM on Thursday.
My fingers hover over the confirm button as I debate whether to take the day off work.
I've never called in sick before, always trying to prove my worth at the dead-end warehouse job.
But this is too important to pass up.
With trembling hands, I press confirm and immediately draft an email to my supervisor.
The same supervisor who denied my raise request last month, claiming I wasn't management material.
I stare at the response email from my supervisor, reading it over and over again in disbelief.
"Time off approved. Good luck with your inheritance situation!"
The casual mention of my inheritance freezes me in place.
I never told him why I needed the day off.
My sent email only mentioned "personal time."
Confused, I scroll through my sent email to make sure I didn't accidentally include that detail.
But there it is, plain as day: "Request for Thursday off for personal reasons."
I frown at my phone screen, trying to make sense of the situation.
Why would he mention my inheritance?
Unless... unless he somehow knew about it already?
A knot forms in my stomach as I contemplate the possibilities.
I decide to pay him a visit during my lunch break, hoping to clear up any misunderstandings.
As I walk into his office, he's smirking behind his desk.
"Ah, Shane! Good to see you," he says, extending his hand for a handshake.
I hesitate for a moment before shaking his hand, still unsure what to make of his sudden friendliness.
After all these years of criticizing my performance and denying me promotions, why is he acting like we're old friends?
"So, what brings you here?" he asks, gesturing for me to take a seat across from him. "I just wanted to clarify about the email," I reply cautiously.
"You mentioned something about an inheritance situation."
"Oh, right!" he says, nodding enthusiastically.
"Yes, Mr. Patterson called me yesterday to verify your employment status. He mentioned that you're set to inherit a significant amount of money."
My jaw drops as I process his words.
"Wait, what? Why did Mr. Patterson call you?"
"Well, apparently he needs to confirm your identity and employment status before transferring the inheritance funds," my supervisor explains nonchalantly.
"And since you've worked here for several years, he figured it would be best to get verification directly from me."
I sit there stunned for a moment, trying to wrap my head around this revelation.
So not only did Mr. Patterson call my supervisor without my knowledge or consent, but now everyone in the office probably knows about my inheritance too. My supervisor leans forward in his chair, a sly smile spreading across his face.
"So, Shane... tell me more about this inheritance of yours," he says casually.
"What kind of money are we talking about?"
I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously, unsure if I should reveal any details.
"I think it's best if we keep this professional," I reply, standing up to leave.
I sit at the large mahogany desk in Mr. Patterson's office, signing the final documents that will transfer my grandfather's inheritance into my name.
The weight of the fountain pen feels foreign in my hand as I scrawl my signature across each page.
Mr. Patterson watches with a keen eye, nodding in satisfaction as I complete the last document.
With a practiced flourish, he presents me with a sleek, navy-blue envelope containing my new credit card and banking details, the embossed letters glinting under the office lights like a promise of untold possibilities.
"Here is your new credit card and bank account details," he explains.
"You should receive the physical card within the next few days. In the meantime, you can use this temporary card to access your funds."
I take the card and information, my throat tightening as I glance at the banking app on my phone.
The numbers staring back at me are surreal – a fortune beyond anything I ever could have imagined.
"Thank you, Mr. Patterson," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Of course," he replies, standing up from his seat.
"If you have any further questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to reach out to me directly."
I nod my gratitude before leaving his office and making my way out of the building.
The bright sunlight hits me like a wave as I step onto the sidewalk, momentarily blinding me. I blink several times to clear my vision before pulling out my phone to call Jim and Lance.
My fingers tremble slightly as I dial their numbers, adding them both to make it a conference call.
The phone rings three times before Jim picks up, followed by Lance seconds later.
"Guys," I say, my voice cracking slightly as I speak into the phone.
"Shane, what's up?"
Jim asks, his voice filled with concern.
I take a deep breath before speaking again.
"I just got out of the lawyer's office," I explain, my voice still trembling slightly.
"I can't believe it... I actually inherited all that money."
There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line before Jim lets out a whoop of excitement.
"Holy shit, Shane! That's amazing news!"
Lance remains quiet, but I can sense his surprise through the phone.
"Shane, are you okay?"
Lance asks, his voice steady and concerned.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I reply, taking another deep breath to calm myself.
"It's just... this is all so surreal. I keep thinking it's going to be some kind of joke or mistake."
"Well, it's not a joke," Jim says, his voice filled with excitement.
"This is real, Shane. You're rich now."
I chuckle nervously at his words.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," I say.
"So, what are we going to do first?"
Jim asks eagerly.
"Well, for starters, we're all quitting our dead-end jobs," I declare.
"And then... well, I was thinking we could take a trip somewhere. Celebrate this new chapter in our lives."
"That sounds amazing," Lance says finally, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "I'll start looking into flights and accommodations right away," Jim offers excitedly.
"Sounds like a plan," I agree.
"Alright guys, let's hang up so we can start making arrangements. Talk to you both soon."
I end the call with Jim but ask Lance to stay on the line for a moment longer.
"Hey Lance, can you stay on for a sec?"
I ask him as Jim hangs up to start making plans.
"Sure thing, Shane," Lance replies.
The two of us sit in silence for a moment before he speaks again.
"Shane, are you really okay? This has to be a lot to take in."
I grip the steering wheel tightly as I think about everything that has happened over the past few days.
"I don't know if I am okay yet," I admit honestly.
"But I will be. Thanks for being here for me."
"No problem," Lance says reassuringly.
"Shane, you know I've always got your back," Lance replies, his voice steady and comforting.
"I just want to make sure you're not getting in over your head with all this."
"I appreciate it, Lance," I say, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "I just need some time to figure things out."
"Alright, Shane," Lance says, his voice filled with understanding.
"I'm here if you need me."
We end the call, and I sit in my parked car outside the lawyer's office, staring at my phone.
The genuine concern in Lance's voice during our conversation stirs up feelings I've been trying to suppress since before Penelope.
I think back to all the times Lance was there for me during my lowest moments, offering a listening ear and a comforting presence.
The way he would subtly touch my arm or shoulder when he spoke to me, his eyes following me around the room with a quiet intensity that made my heart skip a beat.
I never had the courage to tell him how I felt before, but now that I have this newfound confidence and financial security, I feel like I can finally be honest with him.
My thumb hovers over the messaging app on my phone as memories flood back into my mind.
I take a deep breath and type out a message to him, my heart racing with anticipation as I hit send. Through the windshield, I watch as the message status changes from "delivered" to "read."
I grip the steering wheel tightly, waiting for his response.
My knuckles turn white as I hold onto it for what feels like an eternity.
The phone buzzes in my hand, and I glance down to see Lance's reply.
"Hey Shane, just got your message. Are you sure about this?"
I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest as I type back.
"Yeah, Lance. I've never been more sure about anything."
I drive to Café Luna, our usual meeting spot from before my inheritance changed everything.
Through the window, I spot Lance already waiting at our corner table, two steaming mugs in front of him.
My hands tremble as I check my reflection in the rearview mirror, suddenly self-conscious about the warehouse uniform I'm still wearing.
Inside, the familiar scent of coffee grounds fills my nose as I approach Lance.
He stands to greet me, and I notice his nervous smile.
Before I can speak, he pulls out my chair - a simple gesture that makes my heart race.
I settle into the chair, acutely aware of Lance's presence across the small table.
The coffee he ordered for me - a caramel latte, my favorite - steams between us.
His fingers tap nervously on his cup as we exchange awkward glances.
The ambient chatter of the café fades away when Lance reaches across the table, his warm hand covering mine.
My breath catches as he looks directly into my eyes, his expression soft and earnest.
The familiar scent of his cologne mingles with the coffee aroma as he leans forward.
"Shane, I read your message, and I just need to know... is this really what you want?"
His voice is steady, but there's a vulnerability in his eyes that I've never seen before.
"More than anything, Lance," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, feeling the weight of the moment settle around us.
Lance shifts in his chair, his fingers tightening around his coffee cup.
The afternoon sun streams through the café window, casting shadows across his face.
He takes a deep breath before speaking again.
"I've had feelings for you since we first met at the warehouse," he admits quietly, his eyes fixed on mine.
"But I never said anything because of Penelope."
He pauses, running his thumb across my knuckles.
"When she left you, I wanted to tell you, but it didn't feel right when you were hurting."
His voice trembles slightly as he continues, "I care about you, Shane. I always have."
I nod, feeling a sense of clarity and belonging that I've never felt before.
I lean back in my chair, the weight lifting from my shoulders as his words sink in.
The café bustles around us, but we remain in our own private bubble.
His thumb traces circles on my palm while we discuss how to navigate this transition from friendship to something more.
When I mention quitting the warehouse job tomorrow, Lance suggests we both hand in our notices together.
A customer bumps our table, jolting us back to reality.
Lance steadies my coffee cup with his free hand, then suggests we leave.
I notice his eyes darting between my lips and eyes as conversation fades into comfortable silence.
The café bustles around us, but I focus only on his face moving closer to mine across the small table.
His cologne grows stronger as he leans in, coffee cups pushed aside.
"I've been waiting for this moment," he whispers, his breath warm against my cheek.
My heart pounds as his fingers brush my jaw.
Time seems to slow when his lips finally meet mine, soft and hesitant at first.
I break our kiss reluctantly, my lips still tingling from the contact.
The café's afternoon crowd has thinned, leaving us in a bubble of privacy that feels too precious to end.
"Want to walk by the river?" I ask softly, watching his eyes brighten at the suggestion.
He nods, gathering our half-empty coffee cups while I leave a generous tip on the table.
As we stand, his hand finds mine naturally, our fingers interlacing.
The warmth of his palm against mine feels different now - more intimate, more certain.
"Are you sure about this?" Lance asks, his voice tinged with both excitement and uncertainty.
"Absolutely," I reply, squeezing his hand reassuringly.
He smiles, a mixture of relief and anticipation in his eyes, "Then let's make this our new beginning."
I lead him down the winding path by the river, our hands still intertwined as we leave Café Luna behind.
The gravel crunches beneath our feet, the sound echoing in the quiet afternoon air.
As we walk, Lance talks about his childhood dream of becoming a chef, of traveling the world to discover new flavors and techniques.
The passion in his voice fills me with joy.
When we reach the old wooden bench near the willow tree, we sit together, our shoulders touching.
The setting sun casts long shadows across the water, turning everything golden.
Lance's thumb continues tracing patterns on my palm while he describes the small restaurant he'd love to open someday - a place that serves dishes inspired by his travels and family recipes.
I listen, imagining a future where his dreams and mine intertwine seamlessly.
I rest my head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body through his work shirt.
The river waves gently lap against the shore, creating a soothing melody in the background.
His hand tightens around mine as I whisper, "We can make your dreams real together."
Lance turns to face me, his eyes wide with surprise and hope.
I take a deep breath and continue, "I want to help you. Fund your culinary school and your restaurant when the time comes."
He stares at me for a moment, disbelief written all over his face before it slowly morphs into pure joy.
"Lily," he starts, but I silence him with a soft kiss.
Pulling away just enough to speak, I say, "I believe in you."
"Lily, you have no idea what this means to me," he says, his voice trembling with emotion.
I smile, feeling a warmth spread through my chest, "I think I do, and that's why I'm all in."
He laughs softly, a sound filled with relief and gratitude, "Then let's make it happen, together."
I lean against the wooden bench, feeling the rough texture of the wood through my shirt.
Lance shifts closer, his fingers still intertwined with mine.
The setting sun casts long shadows across the riverside path, and in the distance, a few joggers pass by, their footsteps echoing in the quiet evening air.
His palm is warm against mine, slightly calloused from years of working in the kitchen.
He turns to face me, his expression serious yet tender.
Above us, the willow branches sway gently in the breeze, casting shifting patterns on his face.
His free hand reaches up to cup my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin softly.
My heart pounds in my chest as he moves closer, his familiar cologne filling my senses.
I pull my phone from my pocket, the screen glowing softly in the fading light.
Lance shifts closer on the bench, our shoulders touching.
I open the calendar app, the dates stretching out before us like a canvas waiting to be filled.
"Let's start blocking out dates for the next few months," I say, my voice steady despite the excitement bubbling inside me.
Lance nods, his eyes scanning the screen.
"Okay, so I want to spend a few weeks in Italy, visiting culinary festivals and cooking schools."
He points to specific cities on the map, his finger tracing routes between them.
"And then I'd love to head to France, explore some of the top restaurants and learn from their chefs."
I start blocking out dates as he speaks, creating a rough itinerary for our travels.
When I mention hiring a travel agent to help with arrangements, Lance suggests his cousin who specializes in European tours.
I lean closer to him, drawn by the warmth in his dark eyes.
The willow branches sway above us, creating shifting patterns of shadow and light across his face.
His fingers tighten around mine as I move my free hand to his neck, feeling his pulse quicken beneath my touch.
The distant sounds of joggers and river waves fade away.
Lance's breath catches when I close the distance between us.
His cologne fills my senses as our lips meet, this kiss deeper and more passionate than our first at the café.
I break our kiss reluctantly, pulling out my phone.
I'm still pressed close to Lance on the riverside bench.
Opening my banking app, I show him the black credit card Mr. Patterson gave me earlier.
Lance's eyes widen at the balance, but I quickly switch to a travel website.
We scroll through first-class flight options to Rome, our fingers intertwined.
When Lance spots a morning departure next week, I immediately click to book two seats.
The confirmation email arrives instantly, making our plans feel real.
I sit with Lance on the riverside bench, his warmth pressed against my side as the evening air grows cooler.
When he leans in close, his breath tickles my ear, making my skin tingle.
His whispered words about Rome being our city of secrets send a shiver down my spine.
The intimacy of the moment strikes me - here we are, planning an extravagant trip together after years of friendship turned to romance.
I pull up the flight confirmation on my phone, showing him our departure date.
"Let's make this the beginning of our greatest adventure."
I lean forward, my shoulder brushing against his as we both gaze at the glowing phone screen.
The willow branches sway above us, casting dappled shadows on the ground below.
The air is cooling down now that the sun is setting, but I can still feel the heat emanating from Lance beside me.
I slide my hand up his arm, tracing the texture of his work uniform.
His eyes meet mine, filled with desire and tenderness that makes my heart race.
The confirmation email for Rome glows between us on the phone screen.
Lance's fingers trace the curve of my jawline, pulling me closer to him.
I pull out my phone again, opening a travel planning app.
I stay close to Lance on the bench, our shoulders touching.
The willow branches sway above us, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
I scroll through recommended restaurants and cooking schools in Rome.
Lance points at specific locations on the screen, his work-calloused finger leaving smudges as he describes each place with growing excitement.
When he mentions a famous pasta-making class in Trastevere, I immediately book two spots.
His eyes widen at the instant confirmation.
"Are you sure about this?" Lance asks, his voice a mix of excitement and uncertainty.
"Absolutely," I reply, squeezing his hand reassuringly.
"This is our chance to finally live the life we've always dreamed of," I add, feeling the weight of our shared dreams in the air.
I lean closer to Lance, drawn to his warmth in the cooling evening air.
The willow branches cast shifting patterns across his face as I study his features - the slight curve of his mouth, the warmth in his dark eyes.
My heart pounds as I slide my hand up his arm, feeling the rough texture of his warehouse uniform.
Lance's breath catches when I move closer, his cologne mixing with the earthy scent of the river.
Time seems to slow as I close the distance between us, pressing my lips softly against his.
