The Only Fixer

"Yeah, Mr. Lamar. Ignore him. He just wants to show off."

Bill ignored the crowd; his gaze remained fixed on me. "Dare you do it?"

My wife Linda Gordon's pale and thin face flashed through my mind. She took medication regularly, and the family's savings were long gone. My daughter had just been admitted to university. We needed money right now.

I was laid off as part of "optimization", like a fish thrown onto shore. Apart from this one skill that others looked down upon, I had nothing at all.

Dignity? Dignity was worthless in reality.

However, a tightness stuck in my chest, neither rising nor falling; it almost suffocated me.

"Yes." I heard myself say.

A cruel smile appeared on Bill's face.

"Alright! You've got guts!" He turned to his assistant behind him and shouted, "John Sterling! Prepare the contract! No, it's a betting agreement! Today I'm going to show him that he can't speak nonsense and brag all he wants!"

A few minutes later, a sheet of paper, still warm from the printer, was slammed in front of me.

[Equipment Repair Betting Agreement]

[Party A: Bill Lamar]

[Party B: Shaun Zigger]

The content was simple and brutal.

[If Shaun Zigger successfully repairs the DMG 5-axis machining center, Party A voluntarily transfers 50% of its company shares; if the repair fails or causes secondary damage to the equipment, Shaun Zigger voluntarily assumes full liability for the equipment's depreciation compensation, totaling four million dollars.]

"Paying with your life isn't just talk." Bill lit a cigarette, his face contorted in the smoke. "If you can't afford to compensate me, you'll be my slave, working your whole life to pay off the debt! I'll 'take good care' of your wife and kids."

It was a blatant threat.

The surrounding colleagues formed a circle, whispering among themselves.

"He's insane. Will he really sign that?"

"Look at his penniless appearance. How is he going to compensate? He's selling his entire future."

"Serves him right, who told him to brag?"

I picked up my pen, the nib hovering over the paper for a second.

I remembered Linda holding my hand before I left, her eyes full of worry. "Shaun, don't overwork yourself. Your health is important. We'll earn the money slowly."

I remembered my daughter excitedly saying on the phone, "Dad, I got the scholarship! It can ease the burden on you and Mom!"

I could not give up; I had to win.

Without hesitation, I carefully signed 'Shaun Zigger' in the Party B section.

After signing, I looked up, meeting Bill's contemptuous gaze. "Boss, I need an advance of three months' salary."

Bill froze before bursting into an even louder, mocking laugh.

"Ha! Hahahaha! You haven't even started working, and you're already thinking about getting paid? You fuck..."

He seemed about to curse, but held back. He then looked at me as if looking at trash. "Fine! I'll give it to you!"

He had the accountant bring a wad of cash. He then slammed it onto the table in front of me with everyone watching. "Ten thousand dollars! Take it and buy medicine for your wife!"

The banknotes scattered like snowflakes, covering the floor. Some even drifted down to the bottom of the greasy machine tool.

At that moment, all sound disappeared; I could only hear the roar of my blood rushing to my head. Humiliation repeatedly cut into my heart like a dull knife.

I silently bent over. With dozens of people watching, I picked up the money that carried the warmth and contempt of others, one by one.