On the edge of the wooden office desk piled with files, a few specks of white powder were scattered. Middle-aged Max liked to twitch his nose, and a few barely noticeable white flecks clung to the long nose hairs protruding from his nostrils. The eyes above his large nose were red and bloodshot.

People like this, from the lower rungs of society, were all too familiar to Martin-Davis, such as Scott-Carter and Emma Carter.

Max, looking slightly manic, asked, “Have your injuries healed?”

Martin replied, “My head still feels heavy, hurts from time to time, and my leg hurts too.”

“You’re here for your wages, I understand.” Max opened the large center drawer, took out a cash check, and pushed it to Martin. “This is yours.”

Chapter Three: Operation Teddy Bear

Taking the check, Martin glanced at it and found the amount was wrong—only $100.

This was supposed to be two weeks’ pay.

Martin recalled the relevant details before coming and said, “Mr. Max, we agreed on a daily wage of $45. I worked for you for 12 days over two weeks.”

“You never signed a daily wage contract with me, so it only counts as minimum hourly wage.” Max had already considered all this when Martin-Davis got injured and had prepared in advance.

A worker injuring his head, such a complicated area, could be a real hassle if he kept pestering, so Max blocked the way ahead of time: “You fell off the roof and broke Mr. Paul’s doghouse. That doghouse cost him $1,200, and I compensated him $1,000 for it. You can confirm this with Mr. Paul.”

Paul was a friend Max had known since his teens, and he’d already given him a heads-up: “Bill and Jones, who worked with you, testified that you drank on the job, violated procedures, ignored warnings, caused the accident, and brought significant financial loss to the employer. You bear primary responsibility.”

“In addition, your actions seriously damaged the company’s reputation, causing us to lose three consecutive contracts.” Dealing with this kind of poor, dropout, inexperienced young fool, Max effortlessly unleashed a flurry of combination punches.

He pulled out a folder and pushed it toward Martin: “Take a look. This is the termination agreement caused by you. Your actions made the company lose three important clients.”

Martin opened it and skimmed through. On the surface, nothing seemed wrong, but for a company to produce such a document was a piece of cake.

Max put on a benevolent smile: “I didn’t take you to court or demand compensation for the losses. Instead, out of humanitarian concern, I’m paying you $100. You should say thank you.”

He even kindly reminded, “If you have objections, you can appeal to the union and apply for arbitration. Sorry, I forgot—you don’t have a steady job, can’t afford the dues, and have never joined a union.”

Martin closed the document and fell into thought. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Max twitched his nose again, looking even more manic: “You can’t afford a lawyer, but you can apply for legal aid from the ATL Legal Aid Society. I hear the wait is only a few months at most.”

This was a full-spectrum crushing from class to money, even though Max was just a small boss of a small company.

Martin himself didn’t understand American laws and regulations, and his predecessor, who hadn’t even finished basic education, couldn’t possibly have any relevant knowledge.

Max knocked on the desk forcefully: “Go home, young man. Get well. The company will always welcome you back.”

Martin put away the check and looked at Max. The normal route seemed almost impossible.

The reason: class and money.

At that moment, the door behind opened, and a burly Latino man appeared at the entrance.

Martin couldn’t do anything with his injured leg, so he turned and left Max’s office.

On his way downstairs, he carefully searched his memory to confirm what he had discovered.

This stuff was rampant in Atlanta.

Martin got in his car and saw a Cadillac parked not far away. In his memory, that was Max’s ride.

After thinking for a few minutes, he wrote down the license plate number, recalled more details about Max, especially the route he always took home, then started the car and drove in that direction.

Max lived in a middle-class neighborhood, not too far from Clayton.

Martin drove along the route in his memory, then turned back to the Clayton neighborhood and entered the Carter house.

Eleanor came up and asked, “Did that bastard pay you?”

Martin took out the cash check and handed it to her. “I ran into a very difficult boss.”

“Only $100?” Eleanor was furious. “Does he think you’re a beggar?”

Harris had taken painkillers, temporarily suppressing the pain, and said, “If we apply for arbitration or legal aid, what are the chances of winning?”

Martin sat on the single sofa and said, “We’re poor. Time is a huge cost.”

Hall suddenly chimed in, “Grab a gun and take him out!”

Lily mocked, “You want to go to jail?”

Eleanor smacked each of them on the head and pointed to the bedroom door: “Get in there. Unless I say so, you two idiots aren’t coming out!”

The siblings turned their heads away from each other and went into the bedroom.

Martin waited until the bedroom door closed, then spoke again: “Harris, can you walk normally?”

Harris nodded. “I took painkillers. No problem.”