Chapter 2

The next morning, the entrance to the workshop was buzzing.

Zach had parked his rented Mercedes right out front, the trunk packed with premium cigars and other gifts. He handed them out to everyone in sight.

"Wow, Mr. Langston is so generous!"

"Hailey is so lucky to land a guy like that!"

...

The entire factory shifted overnight. Even the few coworkers who used to talk to me now avoided me like the plague.

Hailey sauntered up, pinching a $100 bill between two fingers. "Sorry, we ran out of gifts. But since you enjoyed that pasta so much yesterday, consider this a tip for a nice meal.

"After all, your boyfriend probably can't even afford a cheap value meal at a burger joint."

I didn't even look at the money; I just walked right past her to clock in. Her eyes narrowed, and she ran back to cuddle up to Zach.

A few minutes later, before I could hit the assembly line, the plant supervisor stepped into my path.

"Hailey isn't feeling well, so she's being moved to the air-conditioned quality inspection room," Patrick Langston said without even looking up from the cigarette dangling from his mouth. "You're switching with her. Report to the C-zone stamping and grinding workshop."

The surrounding workers sneered at my situation.

Zach came over, patting Patrick on the shoulder before giving me a smug look. "Broke bones need to be ground down in tough places. My uncle handpicked this spot just for you. If you can't handle it, quit."

I quietly grabbed my toolbox and walked over to C-zone.

The moment I pushed open the door, a wave of pungent dust and suffocating heat hit me. Ancient stamping machines roared; the exhaust fan was jammed on its track, screeching loudly.

After setting down my toolbox, I put on a mask, grabbed a ladder, and climbed up to the rooftop exhaust unit. Prying off the casing, I found the issue: the pulley gear was clogged with metal shavings.

"Loosen the belt one notch and use a screwdriver to wedge the tensioner's blind spot," a deep voice called out from below.

It was Lucas standing at the base of the ladder in an electrician's uniform. He held up a long-reach flathead and a 12mm box wrench—the exact tools I needed.

"Thanks." I took the tools and pried hard until the gear clicked back into place.

Then I snapped the belt back on and flipped the power switch. The exhaust fan, dead for half a month, roared back to life.

The dust cleared rapidly, and the temperature dropped. I hopped down from the ladder, taking the bottle of mineral water Lucas handed me.

We stood side by side at the machine. He adjusted the base parameters while I oiled the molds. No words were necessary; every time I reached out, he placed the exact tool I needed right into my hand.

The workshop door swung open. Zach walked in with his arm around Hailey, flanked by a few security guards. His face darkened instantly when he saw the fan running smoothly and the two of us working in perfect sync.

"Aren't you two so capable?" he snorted, letting go of Hailey and walking over to slam his hand onto the control panel. "Shut it down! Who permitted you to mess with the equipment? Today, I'm going to..."

My eyes locked onto the debt counter above his head. The moment he approached the machinery, his balance jumped from [-$8,000,000] to [-$8,050,000].

A malicious glint flashed in his eyes. He discreetly unbuckled his wristwatch and tossed it onto the vibrating edge of the conveyor belt.