Mike's smile froze. "Okay… What else were you expecting?"

Connor chimed in from the side, "Zachary, 30,000 isn't a small amount. Mr. Wilson even paid it out of his own pocket. How much more do you want?"

I looked them both dead in the eye. "Three million dollars."

The room went silent. A few seconds later, Mike exploded. "Are you out of your mind? Giving you 30,000 is already against the rules. How could you ask for three million? Just rob a bank at this point!"

Connor joined in, "You're going overboard, Zachary. Three million? That's straight-up extortion. If we call the cops, they could lock you up. Just take the win, dude."

That was when it hit me. These two were playing a game. One played the bad guy, the other the good guy. Most likely, they were working together and had already pocketed the three million for themselves.

I let out a cold laugh. "If you think I'm extorting you, go ahead and call the cops. My arm got crushed, and it's considered a total permanent disability. By law, I'm entitled to at least 27 months of salary, not to mention nursing and rehab costs.

"There's no way that adds up to only 30,000. If you want to sue me, I'll sue you back. It's not like I have anything more to lose—well, maybe another arm. I'm disabled, and I can't get a job. I've got all the time in the world."

Under my threat, both of their expressions shifted. They clearly hadn't expected me to go head-to-head with them. Just when I thought Mike might choose the safer path and settle things quietly, he laughed in my face. "Go ahead and sue us, then."

With that, he yanked the door open and strode out. Connor chased after him. Ten minutes later, he came running back to lecture me.

"Zachary, are you crazy? Did you get all that nonsense from the internet? And you actually believe it? The legal team from HQ is insanely strong. They barely ever lose a case. Besides…"

He suddenly lowered his voice. "The footage shows you throwing yourself into the machine. That's really bad for you!"

I shot back without thinking, "Impossible!"

I then recalled being shoved right after I was reborn. "I want to see the surveillance footage."

"The footage isn't something you can watch just because you want to," he argued.

Realizing being soft wasn't working, he switched tones. "We're family, Zachary, so let me give you some friendly advice. Just take this 30,000 and let it go. The footage definitely won't work in your favor.

"Even if you weren't the one who lunged in there, they'd never give you that much money. If they pay you that kind of compensation, and the other workers hear about it, everyone will start following suit. By then, how's the factory supposed to keep running?"

He tried scaring me and coaxing me at the same time, but my answer didn't change. I insisted on three million, no more, no less. In the end, he dropped the act and let out a cold laugh. "Suit yourself."

Connor stood up and headed for the door. There, he ran into Mom, who was returning with food from the cafeteria. She asked if he had eaten, and he sneered, giving her a sarcastic thumbs-up.

"You've raised a great son, Patty," he said before leaving.

After he left, Mom came in to scold me. "I thought you guys were discussing compensation today. What did you say this time?"

I was already in a terrible mood, so I didn't answer.

She frowned. "You can't afford to offend Connor. Just accept whatever they're offering you. You're the one who wasn't careful and lost your arm. The fact that they're giving you anything at all is considered charity."

I pulled the blanket over my head.

After that day, up until I was discharged, no one from the factory came again. Those few days, I replayed everything from start to finish.

In my previous and current lives, I was sure of one thing—I didn't throw myself into the machine. Connor and Mike only claimed otherwise because they were trying to mess with my head.

This time, I was determined to fight them to the end.

After I got out of the hospital, I went straight to the factory to talk about compensation again. The moment I brought it up, Mike spread his hands. "What are you talking about? Didn't you already accept the 30,000?"

I was baffled. "When?"

He pulled a sheet of paper from a folder. It was an agreement saying I had accepted the payout. My name and fingerprint were right there. With one glance, I knew I didn't do it—Mom did.

Fuming, I stormed back home and threw the document in front of her. I demanded an explanation for why she signed something like that without consulting me.

"I was trying to ask for three million dollars! Why did you settle for 30,000?" I questioned.

Mom glanced at the paper, expressionless. "And you think they're just gonna hand it to you because you asked? Connor said you were the one who violated safety rules first. We don't have the upper hand at all."

"I didn't. I didn't violate any safety rules. I never did that!" I screamed, so angry that I started shaking.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door. "You're coming with me to tell them the agreement is null. You give them the money back!"

We barely made it a few steps before she yanked her arm away. "I'm not going with you. Connor promised to help find connections for Anthony so he can get into a college next year."

She looked at me, her tone finally softening. "Zachary, your little brother has taken the SAT four times. This is his only real shot at getting into college. Do you really want to ruin that for him?"

My little brother, Anthony Neal, had an intellectual disability. He spent four years in middle school and seven years in high school. Every time he took the SAT, his score worsened.

Growing up, Mom always made me give in to him. She would say things like, "He's just not trying hard enough. If he really studied, I'm sure he'd score higher than you."

I never understood it. I was her son too. When I got into college, she said we couldn't afford it and refused to let me go. On the other hand, my idiot brother could keep taking the exam year after year.

When I got injured, she never once asked if it hurt. All she cared about was that I wouldn't be able to work anymore and make money for Anthony's tuition.

I laughed bitterly. "So, Anthony's got his future set. What about me? I lost an arm. Don't I deserve to fight for some money for myself?"

She smiled like it was nothing. "You only lost an arm. The rest of you is still fine. You're smarter than Anthony. You'll find another job just fine."

That was it. Any last bit of hope I had dried up. I laughed coldly and walked out without saying anything.

The more they tried to silence me, the more determined I was to make a ruckus. They thought they could walk all over me. Well, guess what? I would take back every single thing that rightfully belonged to me.

Two weeks later, the CEO, Victor Armstrong, came to inspect the factory. He had just stepped out of the car at the gate when I rushed forward with something in my hands. I got to him a second before Mike could welcome him.

The bodyguards were swift, shielding Victor immediately. Under everyone's gaze, I turned to Mike. "Mr. Wilson, I finally found you! I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Mike went pale. "Security! This guy's crazy! Get him out of here!"

I raised a handmade sign while shouting, "No, Mr. Wilson! Don't kick me out! I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here to thank you!"

The sign read, "Endless Gratitude for Your Work Injury Support, Mike Wilson. $30K!"

Since this was a visit from the biggest local company, and the headquarters was about to go public, local TV news and online media were all present. When they saw me, they all pounced like wolves on a rabbit, snapping photos of my sign as hard as they could.

Mike went even paler. He stepped forward, snatching my sign away before shoving me. "Alright, I got it. Now, stop making a scene and leave!"

Connor pushed his way through the crowd and yanked my arm. "You're sure a prankster, Zachary. Come on, I'll send you home."

One pushed, the other pulled. Just as they were about to drag me away, Victor shouted, "Hold on!"