Chapter 1

The fire was much worse than last time. Thick black smoke billowed outward, filling the first-floor lobby with the choking stench of burnt materials.

Dozens of merchants crowded the entrance, stomping their feet and cursing.

When Robert Hoffman, the mall manager, spotted me, his eyes lit up. He rushed over and grabbed my arm. "Samuel! You're just in time! Get in there and fix the electrical system!"

He spoke as if it were only natural, like he was ordering one of his own employees around.

He happened to grab my right arm—the one that had been broken by the merchants. The bone had never healed properly, and it still ached whenever the weather turned damp or rainy.

The moment Robert yanked it, pain shot through my entire arm, as if someone were driving nails through it from the inside out. Cold sweat instantly broke across my back.

I gritted my teeth, pulled my arm free, and stepped back. "I'm not your mall's electrician. I can't fix it."

Robert froze, his face turning bright red. "What the hell do you mean? There's over a hundred million dollars' worth of merchandise in there! People are in there, too! Are you just going to stand by and let them die?

"You fixed it last time! Why can't you do it now?"

A woman wearing a fur coat pushed to the front. She looked me up and down, then spoke with the condescending air of someone tossing a handout. "I think you just want money! $100,000? $200,000? Name your price. As long as you fix the electrical system, we'll pay you on the spot."

When I didn't respond, she added, "You'd better know what's good for you. That incompetent fly-by-night electrician last time dragged his feet and cost us over a million dollars. If you delay things today and our merchandise burns, can you afford to pay for it?"

Several merchants nearby chimed in with insults.

"It's all that damn electrician's fault! We wouldn't have lost so much last time if it weren't for him!"

"Get in there and fix it! Don't be so ungrateful!"

I let out a cold laugh, but inside, my heart sank.

The useless fly-by-night electrician she was talking about was me, three months ago.

That day, I'd been repairing electrical wiring in the neighboring building when I heard the alarm. Without a second thought, I'd rushed inside.

I'd extinguished the fire in the electrical room, cut the power, restored the damaged circuits, and saved more than a thousand people in the entire building.

The woman in the fur coat standing before me was Kendra May.

Back then, she'd knelt on the floor, clung to my legs, and cried as she thanked me for saving her life.

The very next day, she'd led the group of merchants who surrounded my home. She claimed that cutting the power had caused all their frozen goods to thaw, and demanded that I pay a million dollars in compensation.

To scrape together that million, I sold the only home I owned, quit my job, and borrowed money from every relative I had.

During the day, I hauled cement at construction sites. At night, I moved cargo at a logistics warehouse.

I'd split one meal into two, given up smoking and drinking, and nearly fallen behind on my daughter's school fees.

I looked at the expectant faces around me and spoke coldly, "I don't want your money. I'm here to pay you back."

The crowd fell silent for a second.

Someone muttered, "Pay us back? For what?"

I lowered my eyes to the bag of money in my hand. The canvas bag had faded almost white from wear, and even its zipper had needed repairing. Every bill inside had been earned by hauling cement, carrying crates, and scrimping on food.

"I'm repaying the compensation you demanded after I repaired your electrical system last time. A million dollars."