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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 to use it for revenge and selfempowerment.
Hannah
She is Isaac’s girlfriend who befriended Shane after a fight between the two men. She is kind, empathetic, and understanding. Hannah shows genuine care for Shane’s wellbeing despite his rough past and current financial success. Her presence in Shane’s life helps him feel less isolated, and she becomes a symbol of hope as she seeks a deeper connection beyond superficial relationships.
Isaac
He is Shane's best friend who stood by him through thick and thin. He is loyal, supportive, and optimistic. Isaac never judged Shane during his difficult times and remained a constant source of comfort. When Shane inherits the fortune, Isaac is one of the first people he confides in. Together they navigate the complexities of Shane’s new life and plan their next moves.
I was an orphan, a poor boy who had been raised in foster care.
My life had been a hard broken one, and now my girlfriend was leaving me for another man.
But my life was about to change dramatically in ways I never could have imagined.
I had just inherited a vast fortune from my grandfather, who I had never known existed.
My new wealth made me the only multibillionaire in the world, and soon everyone would be bowing down at my feet.
The irony was not lost on me.
Those who had judged and criticized me in the past would now be green with envy, wishing they had treated me better while they still had the chance.
I vowed that I would make them pay for their mistakes, and soon I would have my revenge.
"Shane, I'm sorry. I really am," Penelope said, tears in her eyes as she stood in front of me.
"I just can't be with you anymore. I mean, I know you're a great guy and all, but…"
"But what?"
I asked her, feeling anger and hurt inside.
"You know what it's like. A girl's got to think about her future," she said to me, not being able to look into my eyes.
"And being with you doesn't exactly secure mine."
I shook my head at her.
"So this is all about money? You're leaving me for someone who has more cash?"
I watched her fidget with her designer purse.
It was a gift from her new man, and I knew that she was only with him because he could buy her things like this.
The cafe around us bustled with morning customers, but I barely noticed them.
My mind was too focused on the letter in my jacket pocket - the one that told me about my inheritance.
I could pull it out now, show her the numbers that would make her new boyfriend look poor.
But I didn't.
Instead, I let her squirm.
She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin, smearing her mascara even more.
"I know it sounds shallow," she said, finally looking up at me.
"But it's just practical. I have life goals, and being with you isn't going to help me achieve them."
I took a slow sip of my coffee, savoring the bitter taste.
"Then I guess you'll never know what you just lost."
My hands trembled slightly as I gripped the inheritance letter in my pocket, watching her ramble on about financial security and her new boyfriend's business success.
The espresso machine in the background hissed out its own rhythm, mirroring the anger rising within me.
She kept checking her phone, probably texting him, while mechanically explaining how she "deserved better."
The designer purse sat prominently on our table, its price tag still visible - a deliberate display of her upgraded lifestyle.
The sight of it made my jaw clench.
As she continued her rambling, her phone screen lit up once more.
I caught a glimpse of the contact name - "Marcus Weber."
My stomach dropped.
Marcus Weber, my cousin, who had grown up in luxury while I bounced from foster home to foster home.
The same cousin who would mock me at family gatherings before I was cut off from the Weber fortune.
Penelope noticed my fixed stare at her phone and quickly flipped it face down on the table.
But it was too late.
She had no idea that her new wealthy boyfriend was my own flesh and blood, the very person who had helped orchestrate my childhood exile from the family.
"Penelope, do you even know who Marcus really is?" I asked, my voice steady despite the storm inside.
She looked at me, confused. "What do you mean? He's just... Marcus."
I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "He's my cousin, Penelope. The one who made sure I was cut off from the family fortune."
After that, I left the cafe and drove straight to my lawyer's office in downtown Manhattan.
The mahogany-paneled conference room felt suffocating as Mr. Davidson spread out the thick folders of documents on the polished table.
The scent of aged wood mingled with the faint hint of his cologne as he sat across from me, his expression a mixture of professional courtesy and genuine curiosity.
"So, you're ready to see everything?"
"Yes," I said, my voice steady despite the tremble in my hands.
He nodded, opening the first folder with a flourish.
The rustle of papers filled the room as he began laying out document after document across the table.
I watched, my eyes widening at the sheer volume of assets listed before me.
There were private islands in the Caribbean, a fleet of mega yachts docked in Monaco, and sprawling estates scattered across three continents.
My fingers brushed against the glossy photographs, feeling the weight of each image.
"This is... everything?"
I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper. Mr. Davidson nodded, his expression serious.
"Yes, this is your inheritance. Your grandfather's legacy."
I swallowed hard, trying to process it all.
It was too much to comprehend - the magnitude of it all was overwhelming.
I looked up at him, searching for answers.
"And what's the total value?"
I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Davidson smiled, sliding a small blue card across the table towards me.
It was a Citibank card with a platinum W embossed in the center.
I picked it up, feeling its weight in my palm.
"That card grants you access to a trust fund worth over two billion dollars," Mr. Davidson said, watching my reaction closely.
I blinked, struggling to wrap my mind around the figure. "Two billion?" I repeated, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.
"Yes," he confirmed, leaning back in his chair. "And that's just the beginning."
Sitting in my parked car outside the lawyer's office, I pull out my phone with shaking hands and dial Isaac's number.
The platinum card feels heavy in my pocket as I wait for him to answer.
The sound of it ringing echoes through the car's speakers, a steady beat that mirrors the pounding of my heart.
When he finally picks up, his voice is cheerful as always.
"Hey man, what's up?"
But my voice cracks as I try to explain.
"Isaac, you won't believe what just happened. I... I inherited everything. Billions. Properties. Islands."
The words tumble out in a confused mess, barely making sense even to myself.
There's a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, I wonder if he's still there.
Then, his voice comes through again, cautious and concerned.
"Are you okay? Do you need me to come over?"
I grip the steering wheel harder, remembering all the times Isaac had been there for me when I had nothing.
"No," I reply, my voice steady now, "but everything's about to change."
I park outside Isaac's apartment complex, the same run-down building where I used to crash on his couch during my homeless phase.
Through the windshield, I watch him emerge from the rusty security door, wearing his usual work uniform from the auto shop.
He slides into the passenger seat of my beat-up Honda Civic, eyeing me with concern.
Before he can speak, I pull out the platinum card and spread the inheritance photos across the dashboard.
His eyes widen as he takes in the sight.
When he sees the trust fund statement, he whistles low and long.
"Man, this is..." he starts, but I cut him off.
I pull out my phone and open the notes app, typing furiously as he watches.
"Let's make a list," I say, my voice steady.
"Penelope. Marcus. My old foster parents. Everyone who turned their backs on me when I needed them most."
Isaac's eyes narrow as he reads the names.
"You sure you want to do this?"
I nod, already typing furiously into my phone's browser.
"I'm researching Marcus's business holdings right now."
The cramped interior of the Honda feels too small for what we're planning.
As I scroll through the search results, my fingers fly across the screen, finding every weak spot in Marcus's company.
Potential acquisition targets.
Debt figures.
Isaac leans closer, his voice filled with caution.
"This is some serious stuff, man. Are you sure you're ready for this?"
I turn to him, my eyes locked on his.
"Look at this," I say, showing him the debt figures on the screen.
"This isn't just revenge. It's justice."