“If You Permit, I Will Fix It”, No One Could Fix Billionaire’s Jet Engine Until A Homeless Girl Did
.
.
If You Permit, I Will Fix It: The Story of Olivia Williams, the Homeless Girl Who Saved a Billionaire’s Jet
Inside the bustling hangar at Lagos Airport, a crowd of tense engineers circled a giant silver jet engine resting on a wheeled stand. The air was thick with the smell of jet fuel and the low hum of distant generators. A red tool cart stood open, tools scattered across its surface. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second amplifying the pressure in the room. Andrew Jacobs, billionaire CEO and owner of the sleek Bombardier Challenger parked just outside, checked his watch again. The engine had been silent for six hours, defying his best men.
The atmosphere was heavy, sweat beading on brows, security guards watching the doors closely. Then, cutting through the noise, a clear voice echoed: “If you permit, I will fix it.”
Heads snapped toward the hangar door. There stood a young woman in a tattered gown, her hair wild from wind and heat. Thin, with grease-stained fingers and eyes bright and steady, she looked like someone who had been skipping meals. Laughter rippled through the crowd.
“Are you joking?” Sam, the lead engineer with two decades of experience maintaining private jets, asked with a tired smile. “We’ve been at this for six hours.” Another engineer shook his head in disbelief. “Who let her in?”
Two guards stepped forward, but Andrew raised his hand, his voice calm but firm. “Stop. In my line of business, I’ve seen unusual things. Let the young lady speak.”
The guards hesitated as the girl took a step forward. “Sir,” she said, eyes locked on the engine, “I heard your team say there was an unusual noise during landing, like a whistle. Then the engine ran rough and wouldn’t spool properly after shutdown. May I look?”
Sam’s mouth opened in surprise. “That is exactly what happened,” he muttered.
The hangar fell silent except for the ticking clock and distant runway sounds. The girl’s hands trembled briefly as she was handed a pair of clean gloves, but then steadied. She approached the engine with quiet confidence, inspecting the intake, running her fingers lightly along the sensor harness, listening as if the metal whispered secrets only she could hear.
She crouched by a small panel near the compressor section and tapped it gently. “That clamp is wrong,” she said softly. “It’s tight, but it’s on the wrong groove, causing a tiny air leak. That leak sings like a whistle under load.” She traced a wire with a careful finger. “This sensor wire has a small crack in the insulation. It’s rubbing against the bracket. When it heats up, it sends the wrong signals, confusing the engine’s system. That’s why it runs rough.”
Sam blinked, astonished. “How did we miss that?”
“Because both problems hide each other,” she explained. “The leak makes the whistle, the bad wire makes the engine feel sick. Fix one and the other still causes trouble.”
Andrew stepped closer. “Can you fix it?”
She looked up, meeting his eyes. “If you permit.”
He nodded. “Do it.”
The hangar shifted from doubt to watchfulness. The girl’s hands moved deftly and confidently. She loosened the clamp, reset it into the proper groove, and tightened it with a clean click. Then she trimmed and rewrapped the sensor wire, secured it away from the metal bracket, and cleaned the area meticulously. She checked her work twice, then a third time, moving with the precision of someone who knew engines as intimately as a singer knows a song.
Sam leaned forward, mouth agape. His lead engineer whispered, “Boss, she might be right.”
“Time?” Andrew asked without looking at his watch.
“Seventeen minutes,” someone answered.
The girl pulled off her gloves and set them carefully on the tool cart. “I’m done,” she said.
Silence filled the room. Sam took a slow breath. “We’ll test it.”
Andrew nodded. “Roll it out.”
The engine stand clicked and rolled across the polished floor. Outside, the afternoon sun poured gold over the tarmac. Safety cones appeared, cables were hooked up, and the team spoke in short, careful words. The girl stood back, hands clasped, ready if anyone needed her.
“Who are you?” Andrew asked quietly, stepping beside her.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Tears welled in her eyes, but she stood tall. “If the test goes well,” she said softly, “I will tell you my name.”
Andrew studied her for a heartbeat, then gave a small nod.
Sam and his team finished their checks and gave a thumbs-up. Andrew walked to the control cart, hand on the starter switch, then glanced back at the girl standing very still, the wind lifting strands of her hair. In her eyes was something fierce and quiet, like a small flame refusing to go out.
“Everyone clear,” Sam called.
The warning beacons began to spin, blinking red across the white wing of the Challenger. The airport air felt thinner, as if all of Lagos held its breath.
Andrew pressed the button. The engine roared to life, a low whine rising faster and faster. Numbers climbed on the screen. The whine deepened into a smooth rush, then a sharp alarm chirped. Sam snapped his head toward the panel. A single red light blinked.
The sound wavered, caught between working and dying. Olivia—though no one yet knew her name—raised her hand as if to say, “Wait, listen.”
The hangar froze.
“Don’t shut it down. Not yet. Listen carefully,” her voice cut through the panic.
Sam scowled. “Are you crazy? A warning light means danger. We could damage the core if—”
“It’s not the core,” Olivia interrupted firmly. “It’s just the sensor recalibrating. I rewired it. The system needs a moment to accept the correct reading.”
Her calmness startled everyone. Andrew’s sharp eyes shifted between Sam and Olivia. He had run billion-dollar companies long enough to recognize authority when he heard it.
“Hold it steady,” Andrew commanded. The turbine’s whine grew smoother. The red warning light flickered once, twice, then turned green.
Gasps rippled through the hangar. The engine’s hum transformed into a steady, powerful rush—the sound of perfection.
Sam staggered back, pale. One engineer dropped his wrench. Another muttered, “Impossible.”
Andrew’s lips parted in disbelief. For six hours, his best men had battled this machine, sweating and failing. And in under twenty minutes, this homeless girl had done what none could.
“What is your name?” Andrew’s voice was almost a whisper, but it echoed like thunder.
Olivia swallowed hard. Tears welled again, but she stood straight. “My name is Olivia Williams.”
The name meant nothing to most, but Sam’s face dropped as if struck. “Williams,” he breathed. “From Nigeria Aerospace University… top of your class. You… you’re her.”
Murmurs spread. They had heard the stories: the prodigy who dazzled professors, destined for greatness in aerospace, then vanished two years ago as though swallowed by the earth.
Andrew’s gaze never left her. “Explain,” he said softly.
Olivia’s voice cracked but she spoke: “Two years ago, my father woke one morning and announced he was marrying a second wife. My mother couldn’t bear it. She poisoned his food, and when he collapsed, she ate the same meal, saying they would die together before she watched him betray her.”
Her voice trembled. “I was their only child. I was twenty, just months out of school, about to begin my dream job with one of the best aerospace firms in the world. But when they both died in front of me, I shattered. I couldn’t face life. I canceled my interviews. I threw my phone away. I wandered until I lost myself completely. I ended up on the streets, begging to survive.”
The hangar was silent except for the engine’s hum. Even Sam bowed his head, ashamed he had mocked her earlier.
Olivia’s eyes burned with tears. “But every day, I passed this repair center. I would stare through the fence, remembering the future I lost. Today, when I heard your voices, when I saw how helpless you were, I thought, just once, let me try. Even if I get thrown out, even if people laugh, at least I will not die with my dream locked inside.”
Andrew’s throat tightened. For the first time in years, tears threatened his eyes. A man of boardrooms and contracts, this young woman’s honesty pierced him deeper than any speech.
Sam’s voice cracked. “You saved us. You saved him.” He pointed toward the Challenger jet gleaming outside.
Andrew stepped closer, placing a hand gently on Olivia’s shoulder. “You didn’t just fix my engine. You reminded me why second chances matter.”
He turned to the crowd. “You all saw it. Remember this moment. Greatness is not about appearances or titles. It’s about truth, skill, and heart. And today, this young woman had all three.”
Olivia trembled, unsure whether to bow or step back. But Andrew wasn’t done.
“Olivia Williams,” he declared, “from this moment on, you will never beg for food again. You will never walk these streets homeless again. I will personally make sure the world knows who you are.”
Gasps and applause broke out. Sam clapped, tears blurring his vision. Olivia covered her mouth, overwhelmed. Hope no longer felt like a cruel memory—it felt real.
Andrew glanced at his watch. “I need to be in London in six hours. I am not going there without you.”
Her eyes widened. “Sir, you fixed my jet. You fly with me?”
The hangar erupted again. Sam whispered, “She’s going to London. On that jet she saved.”
Minutes later, Olivia stood outside the hangar, staring at her reflection in the jet’s polished surface. For the first time, she did not see a beggar. She saw who she was always meant to be.
As she touched the cool metal, her heart raced with fear. Could this be real, or would it vanish like a dream?
Andrew’s voice broke the silence. “Get ready. The world is about to know your name.”
As Olivia climbed the steps into the private jet, none knew her story was only just beginning.
.
play video:
