PART2:”If You Permit, I Will Fix It” No One Could Fix Billionaire’s Jet Engine Until A Homeless Girl

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Legacy of Fire and Forgiveness

Overhaul International’s Lagos branch was the largest and most prestigious in all of Africa. At its helm was Olivia, a young woman whose story had captured the hearts of millions. From a homeless girl who once fixed a billionaire’s jet to the leader of the continent’s biggest maintenance branch, Olivia’s rise was nothing short of miraculous. She had her loving husband Jerry, their beautiful son Jonathan, and the unwavering support of Andrew Jacobs—the billionaire whose faith had turned her life around.

Every headline about Olivia read like a dream: “From Street to Sky Queen,” “Homeless Girl Who Fixed a Billionaire’s Jet Leads Africa’s Largest Maintenance Branch.” But with success came enemies lurking in the shadows.

Mr. Adawale, the regional director, was one such enemy. At 50, tall, dark-skinned, with a deep voice and an imposing presence, Adawale had spent 15 years climbing the ranks of JJ Jet—from mechanic to director. In his mind, leadership of the Lagos branch was his rightful crown. Yet here was Olivia, barely in her twenties, a former street girl, occupying the seat he believed was his destiny.

Every meeting where Olivia gave orders, every client who praised her brilliance, every time the staff celebrated her name, Adawale’s pride bled. “She consults me. She respects me,” he told himself each night, staring at the chandelier in his mansion. But respect wasn’t enough. “How can I, Adawale, with 15 years of sweat, work under this child?” His bitterness grew into obsession, and obsession into a dark plan.

One late evening, long after the office was empty, Adawale sat alone in his office. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. “David,” he said in a low voice.

On the other end was David Johnson, assistant regional manager. Younger, slim, sharply dressed, and ambitious, David admired Adawale but sometimes let his hunger for promotion cloud his judgment.

“Sir, it’s late,” David said cautiously.

“We can’t let Olivia remain here,” Adawale’s voice hardened. “If we don’t act, she’ll bury us in her glory. Meet me tonight at your mansion in Ecoy, the study.”

David hesitated only a moment before replying, “Yes, sir.”

That night, in the dimly lit study of David’s Ecoy mansion, the two men sat across from each other. Expensive whiskey glistened in their glasses. The air was thick with tension.

“This position should have been mine,” Adawale said, pounding his fist on the mahogany desk. “And you, David, should be my deputy. Instead, we bow to a girl who lived on the street. It’s an insult to everything we’ve worked for.”

David nodded slowly. “But what can we do? She’s Andrew’s daughter-in-law. She has the board’s blessing.”

Adawale leaned closer, eyes glittering with malice. “We take her out. Not by killing her, but by destroying her reputation. If the branch falls under her watch, the board will have no choice but to remove her.”

David swallowed hard. “And how do we achieve that?”

Adawale smirked. “We burn it down.”

David’s eyes widened. “Burn the company?”

“Not all,” Adawale whispered. “Just enough to cause scandal. The new Challenger jet in Hangar 3—Chief Abina Anderson’s aircraft. If that plane goes up in flames, the board will scream for Olivia’s head.”

David’s hand trembled around his glass. “Security handled?”

“I spoke with the head of security, Emma. He will order his men away for 5 million naira. Silence is easy. They’ll later claim Olivia refused to approve their allowance. That’s why they abandoned their posts. It will be the perfect reason to blame her.”

David’s jaw tightened. He could already taste the deputy’s chair. He gave a slow nod. “I’m in.”

The two men clinked their glasses, sealing the darkest pact of their lives.

What they didn’t know was that Andrew Jacobs had been watching Adawale from the very beginning. Decades as a billionaire CEO had taught Andrew that enemies were never far. From the moment he noticed resentment in Adawale’s eyes, Andrew quietly put safeguards in place. One of those was Acca—the real head of security, not the man Adawale thought he had bribed, but Andrew’s trusted ally.

For months, Andrew had been secretly paying Acca to monitor all conversations in the branch. So when Adawale and David whispered their plot in the Ecoy mansion, Acca was already recording. He captured the meeting, the talk of fire, even the moment they counted the 5 million naira bribe.

That night, as Lagos slept, Emma slipped into Andrew’s mansion, handing him the recording with grim eyes.

“Sir, they plan to strike tomorrow. Midnight. Hangar Three.”

Andrew listened, his face growing darker with every word. He clenched his fist. “They think they can touch Olivia. Not while I breathe.”

The following night, the hangar stood quiet under the moonlight. The new Challenger jet gleamed in the shadows, its silver surface glowing like a ghost.

Adawale and David arrived with two hired men, cans of fuel in hand. Sweat dripped down their brows as they doused the floor near the aircraft.

“Light it,” Adawale whispered.

But before the match could strike, floodlights blazed across the hangar. Sirens wailed. Police officers stormed in, guns raised. Firefighters rushed behind them.

“Freeze!” a voice thundered.

Adawale and David froze in shock, fuel cans slipping from their hands. Acca stepped forward with Andrew at his side.

“Caught you,” Andrew said coldly, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Planning to destroy the very company you claimed to love.”

The police seized them, snapping cold handcuffs around their wrists.

Moments later, headlights cut through the night. A black SUV pulled up, and Olivia stepped out. She had been called by Andrew but didn’t know what to expect. When she saw Adawale and David in handcuffs, her heart dropped.

She walked up to them, her elegant gown brushing the tarmac, her face pale with shock.

“So, it’s true, Mr. Adawale. You wanted to burn this company down just to see me removed?” Her voice trembled with pain.

“How wicked can you be? I have never treated you with pride. I consult you. I seek your advice. I’ve respected you as a senior. And yet you plot against me.”

Adawale’s eyes burned with bitter fire. “Do you think I’ll ever be happy watching you, a street girl, sit above me? Fifteen years I gave to this company. Fifteen years, and now I must answer to you. I’d rather rot in jail than call you my head.”

His words sliced the night.

Olivia’s lips quivered, but she stood her ground.

“Then so be it. But know this, Adawale: power built on pride always ends in ashes.”

The police dragged Adawale and David away. Their hired men followed, heads bowed in shame.

The next day, headlines exploded.

Top Executives Arrested for Arson Plot.

Adawale and David were charged before the Lagos Federal High Court with conspiracy, arson, and breach of trust. Acca’s recordings played in open court, their voices damning beyond denial. Video footage sealed the case.

Adawale pleaded not guilty, but his pride cracked when his daughter stood in court, tears streaming down her face.

“Daddy, why didn’t you teach us never to lie or do evil?”

For the first time, Adawale looked away in shame. His arrogance collapsed, replaced by grief.

The judge’s gavel thundered:

Twenty years imprisonment without option of fine.

As they were led away, their wives sobbed, their children wailed. Adawale and David broke down, crushed under the weight of their choices.

Prison life was nothing like their mansions. The tiny rusted beds, dark damp rooms, tasteless food—all stripped them of dignity. Every day they stared through barred windows at the bustling Lagos skyline, hearts heavy with regret.

Meanwhile, Olivia moved forward. She strengthened her team, repaired not one but two presidential jets, and soon was nominated for a presidential award of excellence.

But deep in her heart, Olivia carried a burden. Victory over enemies did not taste sweet when their wives and children wept.

Letters began arriving from prison. Adawale and David begged her for forgiveness, promising they had changed.

Olivia, remembering her own second chance, wondered, “Should I do for them what Andrew once did for me?”

The Lagos branch hummed with life. Under Olivia’s leadership, it rose to new heights. Staff worked with renewed energy. Clients praised their efficiency. The press adored her story.

But late at night, when the lights dimmed in Andrew’s mansion and Jerry slept beside her, Olivia sat awake, staring at the ceiling. She heard again the courtroom cries: “Daddy, why did you do this?” and the wailing of David’s wife as police dragged him away.

Victory felt heavy.

One morning, a guard from Kirki prison delivered a brown envelope to Olivia’s office. Inside were two letters—one from Adawale, shaky and remorseful, and one from David, broken and full of regret.

Olivia read them over and over, tears blurring her vision. She thought of Andrew, who had given her a chance when everyone else had laughed.

Could she do the same for these men?

That evening, Olivia gathered Jerry and Andrew in the living room. Baby Jonathan played on the carpet, giggling as he stacked blocks.

“Papa Andrew,” Olivia began softly, “I received letters from Adawale and David. They beg for forgiveness.”

Andrew leaned back, thoughtful. “And what do you feel?”

Olivia hesitated. “Torn. They hurt me deeply. Yet I can’t forget the tears of their families. Maybe they deserve the second chance I was given.”

Jerry rested a hand on her shoulder. “Your kindness is your strength. But are you sure? What if they betray you again?”

Andrew’s eyes glistened. “Everyone deserves a second chance, my dear. You know this better than anyone. I saved you. Look at what you’ve become. If they truly regret their actions, setting them free could change them forever.”

Olivia’s lips trembled. “Then I must try.”

The following week, Olivia visited Kirki prison. The iron gates clanged open with a metallic groan. Guards led her to the visitors’ corner. The air smelled of sweat and rust, a far cry from the polished hangars she commanded.

When Adawale and David entered, Olivia almost gasped. They were shadows of their former selves—lean, pale, shoulders hunched. The moment their eyes met hers, both fell to their knees.

“Madame Olivia,” Adawale cried, voice breaking. “Forgive us.”

David wept openly, hands trembling. “We destroyed ourselves with envy. We see it now. You have every right to hate us. But please, do not let our children carry the shame of our sins.”

Olivia’s eyes filled with tears. She had expected anger, bitterness, but instead saw broken men. Their arrogance stripped away, leaving only regret.

She leaned forward. “I already forgave you. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here today. But forgiveness is not enough. You must change. If I fight for your release, you must promise to live as men of humility, not pride. Can you do that?”

Adawale pressed his forehead to the cold cement floor. “By God, I will.”

David clasped his hands, sobbing. “I swear, madam. Never again.”

Olivia began the process of withdrawing the case. Many board members opposed her, arguing that Adawale and David had brought disgrace to the company. But Olivia stood firm.

“Yes,” she told the board, “they were wrong. But if no one had forgiven me, I would still be homeless on the streets. They need the same chance I was given.”

Andrew supported her fully, silencing the loudest critics. Jerry, though cautious, stood by her side.

After months of appeals and petitions, the case was reviewed. Four years after sentencing, Adawale and David stood again in court.

When the judge asked if anyone spoke for them, Olivia rose. Her gown flowed as she stepped forward, voice carrying through the courtroom.

“Your lordship, these men wronged me, but I forgave them. They wronged this company, but they are not beyond redemption. I stand here not as their victim but as their advocate. Set them free and let us see what forgiveness can build.”

The courtroom fell silent. Even the judge seemed moved.

After a pause, he pronounced, “Having served four years and shown remorse, and with the victim herself pleading on their behalf, this court hereby releases Adawale and David.”

Gasps echoed. Adawale and David collapsed to their knees, tears streaming.

One week later, Olivia invited them to the Lagos branch.

They arrived in plain shirts and trousers, humility replacing their once proud appearances.

The staff watched curiously as Olivia stood before them.

“These men once tried to tear this company apart,” she said. “But today they return not as enemies, but as colleagues; not as directors, but as ordinary staff. Let us show them the mercy we hope to receive when we fail.”

Adawale bowed deeply, tears in his eyes. “Madam, we will never forget this grace.”

David nodded vigorously. “We will work harder than anyone under your leadership, with respect.”

And so they did. Day by day, they proved themselves—sweeping hangars, assisting mechanics, following Olivia’s instructions without complaint. The arrogance that once poisoned them was gone, replaced by humility and gratitude.

Months passed. Olivia often reflected on her decision. Some called her foolish; others praised her. But whenever she saw Adawale patiently mentoring young apprentices or David working late, sweat dripping down his brow, she knew she had done the right thing.

One evening, sitting with Andrew and Jerry in the mansion, Andrew smiled. “You’ve done what few leaders can. You turned enemies into allies. That is true leadership.”

Olivia’s heart warmed. She thought of the long road from despair to hope, from rags to leadership. She had learned the deepest lesson of all: power meant nothing without mercy.