Share
MidReal Story
The Billionaire's Secret Legacy
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?
Create my version of this story
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, sarcastic, and determined. Shane faced years of poverty and judgment from those around him, including his toxic exgirlfriend, Samantha. After being labeled a failure and abandoned by Samantha, he finally finds acceptance and power with his unexpected inheritance. He decides to use his newfound wealth to help his biological mother and make those who mistreated him pay for their past actions.
Grandfather
He was Shane's paternal grandfather who secretly raised him in poverty due to financial struggles. He is compassionate, selfsacrificing, and loving. Grandfather kept Shane's true heritage hidden to protect him from the harsh realities of their economic situation. After passing away leaving behind a vast fortune, he gifts Shane with his entire estate, changing the course of his life forever. His actions ultimately grant Shane the revenge and power he sought against those who mistreated him.
Jules
She is Shane's best friend and confidant. She is supportive, spirited, and loyal. Jules stands by Shane through thick and thin, even when he was considered a "loser" by others. When Shane's world changes with his inheritance, Jules is one of the first to celebrate with him. She encourages Shane to use his newfound power wisely and remains a steadfast presence in his life, helping him navigate his transformed social status without letting it go to his head.
I was an orphan, a poor boy with no one to care for me.
My life was hard, broken, and full of thorns.
I had just turned eighteen when I received the worst news of my life.
My girlfriend left me for a richer guy.
She called me a failure and blamed me for why our relationship didn't work out.
I was heartbroken, but I didn't know that my life was about to change.
Just a week later, I received a letter that changed my life forever.
It was from a lawyer who told me I had inherited a vast sum of money from my grandfather, whom I had never known existed.
The inheritance was in billions, and it shocked everyone when they found out who I actually was.
I was no longer the poor Shane Weber, but Shane Weber, the only grandson of the richest man in the world.
People looked at me differently now.
Those who called me a loser, a poor boy with no future, were all bowing at my feet.
The girl who left me for someone else was now begging me to take her back.
But I wasn't the Shane they had known before.
I was now a completely different person with a new outlook on life.
I walk through the familiar cracked concrete path that leads to the door of St. Mary's Orphanage.
The sound of my polished shoes on the worn steps echoes in the stillness, a stark contrast to the rough, hand-me-down shoes I used to wear.
The door creaks open before I even knock, and there stands Sister Margaret, her eyes still twinkling with the same kindness that I remember from my childhood.
"Shane," she says, her voice warm with recognition.
"It's so good to see you."
I smile back at her, taking in the changes time has brought.
She's older now, but she still wears that same gentle smile that made me feel safe all those years ago.
"Hello, Sister Margaret," I say, stepping inside.
The interior of the orphanage hasn't changed much.
The walls are still peeling, the furniture is still threadbare, and the air is still thick with the smell of stale bread and worn-out dreams.
But despite all of this, there's something different about this place now.
There's a sense of hope in the air, a sense that anything is possible if you just believe hard enough. Sister Margaret leads me into her office, a small room cluttered with stacks of paperwork and dusty books.
She motions for me to take a seat in one of the rickety chairs that line the wall, and I do so gratefully.
As she sits down behind her desk, I can't help but notice the way she looks at me - like I'm some kind of miracle child who has finally found his way home.
I pull out my checkbook and begin to write a check.
My hands are shaking slightly as I scribble down the amount - $100 million - enough to rebuild the entire east wing of the orphanage and fund new beds and books for every child here.
Enough to pay for three hot meals a day for years to come.
Sister Margaret's eyes widen as she takes in the amount, her mouth dropping open in shock.
"Oh my goodness," she whispers, her hand flying to her chest.
"Shane, this is...this is incredible."
I smile at her reaction, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over me.
This is what it means to be rich - not just having money, but being able to use it to make a difference in people's lives. As we talk about the plans for the orphanage, children begin to peek around corners and peer into the room through cracks in the door.
Sister Margaret takes me on a tour of the east wing, pointing out where the renovations are most needed.
As we walk, I notice a small boy trailing behind us, his eyes wide with curiosity.
He's about ten years old, dressed in worn jeans and a faded t-shirt.
His hair is messy and his shoes are scuffed up, but there's something about him that reminds me of myself when I was his age.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I pull it out and glance down at the screen - an email from Thomas Chen, the tech billionaire who's been making headlines lately with his charitable donations.
He's heard about my contribution to the orphanage and wants to meet with me to discuss potential collaborations between our foundations.
I show the email to Sister Margaret, who gasps in surprise.
"Thomas Chen?" she asks, her voice full of awe.
"He's one of the richest men in the world."
I nod, smiling wryly.
"I know," I say.
"But he's also someone who cares deeply about making a difference. And I think we could do some amazing things together."
The little boy tugs at my sleeve, pulling my attention back to him. "Mister," he says, looking up at me with big brown eyes.
"Did you used to live here too?"
I kneel down so that we're eye level, taking in his freckled nose and crooked smile.
"Yes," I say gently.
"I did."
He nods thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving mine.
"It's not such a bad place," he says finally.
"But sometimes it feels like nobody really cares about us."
I reach out and straighten his collar, feeling a pang of recognition in my chest.
"I care," I say softly.
"And things are about to get a whole lot better around here."
I kneel down to the boy's eye level, taking in his scuffed sneakers and the hole in his shirt sleeve.
His name is Marcus, Sister Margaret tells me, and he's been living at the orphanage for a few years now.
I pull out my phone and show him the architectural renderings for the new playground and recreation center that I've been working on.
His eyes light up as he scrolls through the colorful 3D models, taking in the basketball courts and soccer fields, the jungle gym and swings.
Sister Margaret suggests we take Marcus outside to see where the basketball court will be built.
We walk out into the bare dirt lot, the sun beating down on our heads.
I point to where the concrete will be poured next week, explaining how it will be divided into four separate courts.
Marcus kicks at the dusty ground, his eyes wide with excitement.
"Can I help paint the lines?" he asks, looking up at me hopefully.
I check my calendar on my phone, scheduling a day for us to come back and paint the lines together.
We sit down on a weathered bench that runs along the edge of the dirt lot, and I pull out a small notebook and begin to sketch some basic basketball plays.
I show him how to set up a pick-and-roll, how to cut off a defender, how to shoot from different angles on the court.
He listens intently, his eyes following my pencil as I move it across the page.
After a few minutes, he jumps up and starts demonstrating the moves I've shown him.
I watch as he runs up and down the dirt lot, his tattered sneakers kicking up clouds of dust.
He's not bad, I think to myself as I watch him play.
He's got some natural talent, and with some practice he could be pretty good.
When we take a break, Marcus asks me if I used to play basketball when I lived here at the orphanage.
I tell him yes, and that it was one of my favorite things to do.
"Did you have a jersey?"
Marcus asks me curiously.
I smile wistfully, remembering how much I wanted a jersey back then.
"No," I say quietly.
"I never had one."
Marcus's face falls slightly at this, and I can tell he's thinking about what it must have been like not to have something as simple as a jersey. "But you know what?" I say after a moment, pulling out my phone.
"I think we can fix that."
Marcus looks at me in surprise as I open up my browser and start typing away.
"What are you doing?" he asks me curiously.
"I'm ordering us some jerseys," I say with a smile.
"We can design them ourselves."
Marcus's eyes light up at this, and he leans in closer to get a better look at my phone screen.
I pull up a website that sells custom sports jerseys and show him all of the different options we have for colors and designs.
He spends several minutes scrolling through the different choices before finally settling on a red jersey with white trim.
"Number 23," he says confidently when I ask him what number he wants on the back.
"Like Michael Jordan."
I chuckle at this, remembering how much I used to admire Jordan growing up.
"Good choice," I say with a nod. Sister Margaret walks out into the dirt lot just as we're finishing up our order for the jerseys.
She has several papers in her hand, which she hands over to me for my signature.
"Shane," Sister Margaret says softly, "these papers are for the official transfer of funds and to start the renovation process."
I nod, taking the pen from her as Marcus watches with wide eyes.
"Does this mean we're really getting all those new things?" he asks, his voice full of wonder.
I settle into Sister Margaret's office chair, carefully reviewing each page of the construction contracts.
The thick stack details plans for basketball courts and art studios, recreation spaces and a new wing for housing.
Everything I wished for as a child here at St. Mary's.
Marcus hovers by my elbow, watching intently as I initial each section.
When I reach the final signature line, I pause for a moment, remembering all the nights spent on these grounds dreaming of a better future.
With steady hands, I sign my name, committing $100 million to transform this place.
Sister Margaret stamps the documents while Marcus tugs my sleeve, his voice full of anticipation.
"When do the bulldozers come?"
I check my phone, scanning through the messages from the construction team.
I check my phone one last time, refreshing my email while Marcus hovers anxiously beside me.
The message from Johnson Construction finally arrives, and I read it out loud to Sister Margaret and Marcus.
"The crew will break ground at 7 AM tomorrow," I say, showing them the message.
Sister Margaret clasps her hands together in silent prayer while Marcus jumps up and down, his worn sneakers scuffing against the linoleum floor.
I show them the contractor's detailed timeline: demolition starts with the crumbling east wing, followed by foundation work for the new buildings.
Marcus tugs my sleeve again, his eyes wide with excitement.
"Can I watch the bulldozers tomorrow morning?"
I check my schedule one last time before nodding.
"I'll pick you up early."