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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
first_person_protagonist, male. He is a young man who grew up in an orphanage and struggled with poverty. He is determined, resilient, and vengeful. After his girlfriend leaves him for a richer man, he discovers he is the heir to a multibilliondollar fortune. He vows to prove his worth and exact revenge on those who wronged him. Shane navigates his new wealth and power, seeking to reclaim his life and dignity.
Eva Mitchell
side_character, female. She is Jason's sister and Lily's best friend. She is supportive yet naive about her brother's actions. Eva remains loyal to Lily despite her friend's betrayal of Shane.
Jason Mitchell
side_character, male. He is Lily's new boyfriend and the reason she leaves Shane. He is arrogant, wealthy, and dismissive of others' feelings. Jason represents the wealth and status that Lily desires, but his treatment of Shane highlights his lack of empathy or understanding.
I was born in an orphanage and grew up in a poor broken home without parents.
I struggled with poverty and had a girlfriend I loved so much.
She was also from a poor background.
Her name was Lily Carter.
We struggled together to make ends meet, but unfortunately for me, she wasn't ready to wait for me till I got out of my situation.
I received the worst news ever of my life when she told me she was leaving me for another man who was far richer than me.
His name was Jason Mitchell.
That was the day I gave up on life.
I didn't know where my next meal would come from, so I didn't know how I would struggle to give my grandfather, who raised me for a few years, a befitting burial since he spent all his life saving up for my benefit.
A few days after Lily left me, I received another shocking news.
This time it was a good one.
I was told my grandfather didn't actually die; she was just separated from him since she was a baby and had no idea where he was or if he was still alive.
It turned out my grandfather was the only multibilliondollar googolaire in the world.
My life changed totally that day as I became the only inheritor of my grandfather's wealth.
Everyone who knew me was shocked; no one believed I could be so lucky to be the only grandson of the wealthiest woman in the world.
I sat across from Mr. Harrison in his office, which was lined with mahogany wood, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city.
He slid one document after another toward me, and I scanned through the endless lists of assets: private islands in the Caribbean, a fleet of mega yachts, penthouses in every major city around the world, investment portfolios worth billions, and more.
I looked up at him.
"What's the total value?"
He pulled out a black metal card from his pocket and slid it across the table to me.
In the center was a platinum W.
"Your grandfather's liquid assets alone exceed the GDP of most nations. One hundred googol dollars"
He said it matter-of-factly, as if it were a common occurrence.
I picked up the card, its weight substantial in my palm.
It was time to plan an extravagant memorial service for my grandfather at St. Patrick's Cathedral.
I sat alone in Mr. Harrison's office, trying to process the enormity of my newfound wealth.
He cleared his throat from behind me, and I turned to see him standing at his desk.
He pulled open a drawer and retrieved an envelope.
"Your grandfather left this for you."
He slid it across the polished surface of the desk, and I picked it up.
The paper was yellowed and weathered, sealed with dark red wax bearing the Weber family crest.
It felt heavy in my hands, not just from the weight of the paper but from the years of unspoken words.
I broke the seal carefully, unfolding multiple pages of elegant handwriting.
My dearest grandson,
I know you've always wondered why I abandoned you at the orphanage.
I want to tell you now that I didn't.
I watched over you from afar, keeping a safe distance so that no one would know we were related.
I saw how you shared your lunch with Tommy Peters when he forgot his, and how you stood up for Maria when the bullies tried to take her toys.
You have a good heart, and I couldn't be prouder of the man you've become.
I chose not to reveal myself because I wanted to protect you from those who would seek to exploit our family's wealth.
The Weber name has long been synonymous with power and influence, and I didn't want that to define your childhood.
But now that I'm gone, it's time for you to know the truth.
The Weber family has been in banking for centuries, establishing the first bank in Europe in the 17th century.
We financed wars and empires, built cities and industries, and amassed a fortune that rivaled nations.
We invested in technology before anyone else, owning shares in companies like Google and Microsoft before they went public.
Our real estate portfolio includes some of the most iconic buildings in the world: the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, the Willis Tower. We have private jets and helicopters, yachts and cars, mansions and penthouses.
We own vineyards in France and wineries in California.
We have investments in every industry imaginable: energy, agriculture, manufacturing, transportation.
We even own a small island off the coast of Africa where we conduct secret research projects.
But our greatest asset is our network of connections.
We have friends in high places: politicians, CEOs, celebrities.
We have informants who feed us information from every corner of the globe.
We have spies embedded in governments and corporations.
We have eyes and ears everywhere.
Your grandfather was a visionary who saw an opportunity to expand our empire into new territories.
He invested heavily in emerging markets, buying up land and assets before anyone else realized their value. He was ruthless in his business dealings, crushing anyone who dared to stand in his way.
He was feared by his enemies and respected by his allies.
And now that he's gone, it's up to you to carry on his legacy.
You are the last living heir of the Weber family, and it's your responsibility to protect our interests at all costs.
I stared at the financial statement Mr. Harrison had placed in front of me, my vision blurring as I tried to process the number.
The page was filled with a string of zeros that stretched across multiple lines: 100 googol dollars.
It was a number so large it defied comprehension.
Mr. Harrison cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him.
"Your grandfather's wealth isn't just monetary," he explained.
"It's also in the form of connections and influence. He has amassed a network of powerful friends and allies who owe him favors."
He slid a folder across the desk, filled with documents outlining my grandfather's various business ventures and investments.
I flipped through them, seeing references to interdimensional trade agreements and theoretical financial instruments that sounded like they belonged in a science fiction novel.
"How do I access these funds?"
I asked, my voice shaking slightly.
Mr. Harrison smiled.
"That's the easy part."
He pulled out a small device from his pocket and placed it on the desk in front of me.
It was a metallic box with a glowing blue screen and a series of buttons along the side.
"This is a quantum-encrypted device," he explained.
"It uses the principles of quantum mechanics to create an unbreakable code." He entered a series of codes into the device, and it hummed to life.
A holographic display flickered into view above the device, showing images of my new financial empire: towering skyscrapers, private jets, yachts docked in exotic harbors.
It was almost overwhelming, too much to take in at once.
But as I sat there, surrounded by the trappings of wealth and power, I knew that this was just the beginning.
I leaned back in the leather chair, my eyes fixed on the holographic displays that continued to rotate above the device.
Each image represented a piece of my newfound empire, each one worth more than I had seen in my lifetime.
My fingers traced over the smooth surface of the quantum device, marveling at the advanced technology that had made this possible.
Mr. Harrison explained the security protocols in place, how the device was protected by state-of-the-art encryption and a fingerprint scanner that ensured only authorized individuals could access my funds.
He pulled out a small biometric scanner and placed it on the desk in front of me.
"Please place your palm on the scanner," he instructed, his voice steady and professional.
"And then look into the retinal scan camera."
I lifted my hand, feeling a sense of surrealism wash over me.
This all felt like I was playing a part in someone else's life, as if I had stumbled into a world of wealth and power by accident.
"Do you really think I can handle all of this?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Harrison gave me a reassuring nod, his eyes steady and confident.
"Your grandfather believed in you, and so do I; you're more prepared for this than you realize."
I placed my palm against the cool metal surface of the biometric scanner, watching as a blue light traced the lines of my hand.
The device emitted a low electronic hum that vibrated through my fingers, and I could feel the subtle tingle of electricity as it analyzed my prints.
Mr. Harrison stood beside me, explaining each security protocol as the machine worked.
A progress bar filled on the holographic display, showing the percentage of completion.
When the scan finished, a series of green confirmation symbols appeared, indicating that my prints had been successfully recorded.
Mr. Harrison guided my hand to a second scanner for backup verification, and I repeated the process.
It was a surreal experience, each scan officially marking me as the heir to an unimaginable fortune.
As the final confirmation symbol flashed on the screen, I realized there was no turning back.
I leaned back in the chair, my mind reeling as I tried to process everything.
Mr. Harrison tapped a few commands on the quantum device, bringing up a new set of spreadsheets on the holographic display.
"These are your immediate priorities," he explained, his voice crisp and professional.
"Setting up your personal security team, arranging meetings with key board members, transitioning control of major holdings... It's a lot to handle, but I'll be here to guide you every step of the way."
I nodded, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer scope of it all.
"I'm going to need to find somewhere to live," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"One of the penthouses?"
Mr. Harrison suggested, his eyes flicking toward the holographic display.
"Which one would you like?"
I hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"The one in Manhattan."
He nodded, his fingers moving swiftly across the device's controls.
"Very well. Here's the floor plan."
A detailed layout of a luxurious penthouse appeared on the holographic display, showcasing expansive living areas and sleek modern design.
"The top ten floors are yours," Mr. Harrison explained, his voice steady and professional.
"It's already staffed and ready for occupancy. You'll find a team of security personnel waiting for you when you arrive." I gripped the black metal card tightly in my hand, feeling a sense of determination wash over me.
I had a lot to learn, but with Mr. Harrison's guidance and my newfound wealth at my disposal, I knew I could do this.
"Show me the security protocols first," I said firmly, my voice filled with confidence.
Mr. Harrison nodded, adjusting his glasses as he leaned forward in his chair.
The holographic display flickered to life, showing a complex network of security measures that surrounded me at all times.
I leaned forward, studying the intricacies of the system that protected me.
"What's the standard procedure for public appearances?" he asked, pointing to a section on the display that outlined crowd control measures.
Mr. Harrison adjusted his glasses as he expanded the diagram, revealing multiple layers of protection.
"First, you'll have a team of bodyguards with you at all times," he explained, his voice steady and professional.
"They'll be responsible for screening crowds and identifying potential threats."
Next to the bodyguards was a section labeled "Surveillance Systems."
This outlined the network of cameras and sensors that monitored my surroundings at all times.
"There are cameras installed in your penthouse, as well as throughout the building and surrounding streets," Mr. Harrison explained.
"They'll provide real-time footage to your security team, allowing them to respond quickly in case of an emergency."
Finally, there was a section labeled "Secure Transport."
This outlined the various vehicles and routes that were available for my use, including armored cars and private jets.
"Your security team will work with you to determine the best method of transportation for each situation," Mr. Harrison explained.
"They'll also be responsible for ensuring that any vehicle you use is fully secured before you enter." I nodded, taking in all of this information.
It was clear that every aspect of my security had been carefully considered and planned out.
"Show me how to use the panic button," I said firmly, pointing to a small button on my new phone.
Mr. Harrison smiled slightly as he reached out and pressed the button.
Within seconds, a team of heavily armed guards burst into the office, their earpieces glinting under the fluorescent lights.
"Sir, we have confirmed your location," one of them said into his comms device.
"We'll have you out of here in no time."
Mr. Harrison gave me a reassuring smile as he tapped a few commands on his own phone.
The guards immediately stood down, their weapons lowered as they waited for further instructions.
"That's it," Mr. Harrison said calmly.
"You're ready."
I nodded, still reviewing the security protocols as Mr. Harrison continued to explain.
Suddenly, the overhead lights in the room began to flicker, casting an erratic glow across the office.
Red warning lights flashed on the holographic displays, and a piercing alarm cut through the air.
The quantum device's screen turned crimson as a message appeared: "UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED."
Security feeds sprang to life on nearby screens, showing masked figures moving through the building's east stairwell.
Mr. Harrison's eyes locked onto his tablet, barking orders into his earpiece as he sprang into action.
Armed security personnel burst through the office doors, forming a protective circle around me with practiced efficiency.
"What's happening, Mr. Harrison?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady amidst the chaos.
"We're under attack," he replied tersely, his eyes scanning the security feeds for any sign of weakness.
"Get ready to move; we need to get you to a safe location immediately."
I scanned the office quickly, my hands shaking as I gathered up the few essential items that I would need.
The quantum device went into my inner jacket pocket, while the family letter was stuffed into my briefcase.
Mr. Harrison handed me a secure satellite phone and ushered me toward a hidden elevator panel behind his bookshelf.
The wall slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a sleek, high-tech elevator car.
Armed guards flanked the entrance, their weapons drawn and ready.
Through the security feeds, I could see the intruders getting closer, floor by floor.
"Let's go," Mr. Harrison said firmly, his eyes locked on the screens.
"We need to move now."
I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Who are they?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the alarm.
Mr. Harrison glanced at me, his expression grim.
"We don't know yet, but they're well-coordinated," he replied, urgency lacing his words.
I pressed myself against the steel wall of the elevator as Mr. Harrison punched a code into a hidden keypad.
The car lurched downward, my stomach dropping with the sudden acceleration.
Through an embedded screen, I watched as the intruders breached the office we had just left.
They wore black tactical gear, their faces obscured by masks.
The guards maintained formation around us, their weapons at the ready.
"We're heading to an underground tunnel network beneath Manhattan," Mr. Harrison explained, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around us.
"This elevator will take us there."
The car continued to plummet downward, my ears popping with the pressure change.
Suddenly, it jerked to a stop between floors.
One of the guards immediately began checking the mechanical panel, while another updated the security team through his earpiece.
I watched anxiously as the guard examined the panel with his flashlight, sweat beading on his forehead.
The elevator creaked ominously, suspended between floors.
Mr. Harrison checked his tablet for any updates, while two other guards maintained radio contact with the security team.
Then, the guard's light fell on a small red metal panel labeled "Emergency Override."
I stepped forward, recognizing the opportunity.
"Let me help," I said, reaching for the panel's edges.
The guard nodded, and together we gripped the heavy metal and pulled.
The metal groaned under our combined strength, but slowly it gave way, revealing a large brass lever underneath.
With a deep breath, I pulled the lever, and the elevator roared back to life.
As the car continued downward, I braced myself against the wall once more, the digital floor indicator blinking past negative numbers I had never seen before.
Mr. Harrison pulled out a set of building schematics on his tablet, studying the maze of maintenance tunnels and hidden passages beneath Manhattan.
The guards checked their weapons and earpieces, their eyes scanning the elevator car for any signs of danger.
When the car slowed to a stop, Mr. Harrison handed me a bulletproof vest from a hidden compartment in the wall.
I struggled to secure the straps around my shoulders, my hands shaking as I fumbled with the buckles.
The doors slid open with a metallic hiss, revealing a dimly lit concrete tunnel stretching into darkness.
A guard stepped out first, sweeping his tactical light across the shadows.
The air was stale and musty, heavy with the scent of damp earth.
"Why are we going underground?" I asked, straining to keep my voice steady.
Mr. Harrison paused, his eyes meeting mine with a rare moment of vulnerability.
"There's something down here they can't find," he said quietly, "something that could change everything."
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest.
I had no idea what secrets lay hidden beneath our feet, but I was willing to take the risk to find out.
With Mr. Harrison leading the way, we cautiously exited the elevator and entered the dimly lit tunnel.
Two guards moved ahead with tactical lights, illuminating a narrow concrete passage stretching into darkness.
Two more covered our rear, their rifles at the ready.
As we made our way through the maze of tunnels, I couldn't help but feel like we were trapped in some sort of nightmare.
The walls seemed to close in around us, suffocating and oppressive.
I could hear every creak of the floorboards, every groan of the old pipes above us.
It was like being trapped in a living hell, with no way out.
But I refused to let fear consume me.
I had to stay focused, stay strong.
I kept moving forward, pushing through my fear and uncertainty.
I knew that if I could just make it through this tunnel, there would be a way out on the other side.
And I was determined to make it through. We continued moving cautiously through the tunnel system, our footsteps echoing off the concrete walls.
At each intersection, Mr. Harrison consulted his tablet's map to ensure we stayed on course.
The tunnels seemed endless, twisting and turning through the depths of Manhattan's hidden infrastructure.
Occasionally we passed abandoned maintenance rooms or forgotten storage areas, their contents shrouded in cobwebs and dust.
The air grew thick with the smell of dampness and decay, heavy with the weight of years past.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of navigating through the maze of tunnels, we reached a massive steel door marked "W-7."
Mr. Harrison pulled out an unusual key from his pocket, adorned with glowing blue symbols that pulsed in the dim light.
His hands trembled slightly as he approached the lock, his eyes darting nervously between me and the guards flanking us.
With a decisive turn of the key, the door swung open, revealing a chamber bathed in an eerie blue glow.
I stepped into the chamber behind Mr. Harrison, the guards taking positions at the entrance.
The room was small, with a single pedestal at its center.
On the pedestal rested a metallic cube covered in the same glowing symbols as the key.
Mr. Harrison's hand remained on my arm, guiding me forward as we approached the pedestal.
"This cube contains quantum-encrypted data," he explained in hushed tones, "information about secret Weber family technologies that could change the course of history."
Suddenly, the temperature in the room plummeted, and security monitors on the walls flashed red.
Mr. Harrison quickly moved to enter a code on the pedestal's keypad, his fingers trembling as he worked.
"What's happening, Mr. Harrison?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"The system's detected our presence," he replied, urgency lacing his words, "we have to extract the data before it locks us out."
One of the guards glanced back at us, his expression tense. "We need to hurry—backup's on the way, and they won't be friendly."
I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Mr. Harrison at the pedestal, our fingers flying across the glowing keypad.
The cube pulsed with an eerie blue light, its surface temperature dropping rapidly.
Through my earpiece, I heard the guards reporting movement in the tunnels—footsteps growing heavier, getting closer.
Mr. Harrison muttered coordinates and sequences under his breath as he typed, matching my speed as we raced against the system's lockdown protocol.
"Mr. Harrison, what exactly is on this cube that makes it worth risking everything?" I asked, my voice barely steady.
He glanced at me, eyes sharp with determination. "Proof of a conspiracy that could topple the Weber empire and expose their darkest secrets."
The guard nearest to us tightened his grip on his weapon. "And if we fail, they'll bury us along with those secrets."
I held my breath as Mr. Harrison's fingers entered the last string of numbers.
The cube's blue glow intensified, pulsating with an otherworldly energy.
A low vibration hummed through the chamber, resonating in my bones.
Frost crystals formed along the cube's edges as the temperature plummeted further.
Through my earpiece, I heard guards reporting multiple footsteps closing in from both directions of the tunnel.
The cube's surface began to segment and unfold like a mechanical flower, revealing a core of swirling holographic data at its center.
Mr. Harrison swiftly connected a small device to download the contents, his hands moving with precision.
The chamber door slammed shut behind us, sealing our fate as the download completed with a final, resounding beep.
"Mr. Harrison, we've got it," I whispered urgently, "we have to leave."
Together, we pushed the empty pedestal aside, revealing a narrow metal hatch in the floor.
The guards took positions by the chamber door as gunfire echoed through the tunnels outside.
I trembled as I twisted the wheel lock, metal grinding against metal.
The circular opening revealed a ladder descending into darkness.
Mr. Harrison tucked the data device securely in his jacket and climbed down first.
I followed, my shoes clanking on the metal rungs.
I gripped the cold metal tightly, my flashlight beam flickering as I descended.
The air grew colder and damper with each step, echoing with the sound of water droplets falling in the shaft.
Muffled gunfire reverberated above us, a reminder of the danger closing in.
After what felt like hundreds of feet, my boots splashed into ankle-deep water at the bottom.
Mr. Harrison pulled out his tablet, its blue glow illuminating our surroundings.
We were in an old maintenance tunnel, abandoned for decades.
The ceiling creaked ominously above us, weighed down by the city's bustling streets.
Following Mr. Harrison's lead, we waded through the murky water toward a junction ahead.