Arthur leaned back in his chair, eyes still glued to the monitor, scrolling through page after page of criticism. Every sports site in England seemed to be competing for the harshest headline about Leeds United's latest move.
Words like "washed up," "alcoholic," and "career suicide" were plastered everywhere next to Adriano's name.
Across from him, Allen sat on the sofa, shoulders hunched forward, face tight with worry. He had been refreshing his own phone all day, watching the outrage snowball in real time. Finally, he broke the silence.
"Boss, the internet's tearing us apart," Allen muttered, his tone heavy. "It's basically all attacks, all doubts about Adriano. Should we… maybe release the news of Kaka's transfer tonight? At least calm things down?"
Arthur looked up slowly, as if Allen had just suggested they sell Elland Road and move the team to Mars. He blinked, then leaned his head out from the side of the monitor, giving his assistant the kind of stare only a man who hadn't slept enough could manage.
"How can it be basically all?" Arthur asked, pointing to the screen. "Look here. The Yorkshire Post isn't attacking us. They're actually being quite friendly, you see? Almost polite. We should frame this one."
Allen frowned. "Boss, that's literally one outlet."
Arthur waved a hand dismissively and spun back to his computer. "And one is enough. They've restored my faith in humanity." His tone was half serious, half cheeky.
Allen pressed again. "But…"
"No buts," Arthur interrupted, his eyes narrowing on another tab. "We stick to the plan. Leeds United isn't a listed company, so some angry comments won't tank our stock price. Besides, most of these so-called 'reports' are fake. Clickbait, gossip, lazy pundits trying to stir something. I know Adriano's situation better than anyone. Once the league starts, he'll answer all of them on the pitch. And when he does, the same lot who are mocking us today will be begging for interviews tomorrow."
Allen exhaled, shoulders sagging, but finally gave in. "Alright, boss. I'll notify the media to attend tomorrow's press conference, then."
Arthur shut his laptop with a snap and stood, stretching as if he'd just won the day's argument. He walked over, patted Allen firmly on the shoulder, and said, "Forget the press list. Let the staff handle that. You, my friend, deserve a break. Go home, put your feet up. You'll need energy—you're on airport duty tonight."
Allen blinked. "Airport duty?"
Arthur smirked, already striding for the door. "Yes. Someone important's landing. I trust you more than half the drivers around here not to get lost circling Heathrow."
The two walked out of the office side by side. For the first time that day, Allen's mind drifted from angry headlines to the prospect of seeing Adriano up close. Then, his lips curled into a small grin. "You know, boss, for a Brazilian, he's not living up to the stereotype. Don't they say Brazilians are all passion and show? This Adriano fellow is strange. You've prepared this massive press conference for him and Kaka, and he just flat-out refuses to attend. Hahaha."
Arthur chuckled softly but didn't look surprised. He knew exactly what Allen was talking about. The press conference had been his grand plan: the perfect unveiling, Adriano and Kaka side by side, two big names to light up the new season. But Adriano, in classic Adriano fashion, had thrown a spanner in the works.
After signing the contract in Milan a month ago, Adriano was officially Leeds United property. Arthur had been thrilled—finally seeing the Brazilian's name appear on his squad system panel had felt like unlocking a cheat code. Without hesitation, he'd slapped an "injury card" on him, hoping to restore the striker's battered confidence and battered body.
The results had been… strange. At first, Adriano hadn't noticed much. In Milan, life went on as usual. But then he flew back to Brazil, and that's when the real change started.
He couldn't explain it, but suddenly his depression—the darkness that had followed him for years—seemed to lift. And he tested this newfound clarity in the strangest possible way.
Adriano's father had passed away years earlier. Since then, every return trip to Rio de Janeiro had been agony. He'd avoided his childhood home like it was cursed. On the rare occasions he dared set foot inside, the pain was unbearable—tears, memories, the crushing sense of loss. He had never once managed to walk out of that old house in peace.
But this year was different.
On the flight home, Adriano felt something shift inside him. The weight pressing down on his chest wasn't there. When the plane landed, he didn't even bother going to his mansion—the luxurious one he'd bought after fame and fortune arrived. No, he drove straight to the modest old house where he and his father had lived when times were simpler, poorer, but happier.
Standing outside that familiar door, he braced himself for the familiar surge of grief. But when he walked in, he didn't crumble. No tears, no despair. Instead, the walls seemed to echo with laughter, with good memories. For the first time since his father's death, Adriano felt warmth in that home rather than pain.
He sat down on the creaky sofa, closed his eyes, and smiled.
For him, it was nothing short of a miracle.
Adriano didn't know why it had happened, didn't know what Arthur had done behind the scenes.
But what he knew for certain was that he was different now. The demons that had haunted him for years seemed weaker. He wasn't healed completely—but he finally felt like he could breathe again.
And that was why, when Arthur had asked him to attend the grand unveiling with Kaka, Adriano had politely declined. He didn't want the noise, the circus, the flashing cameras.
Not yet. For the first time in years, he wanted to stay quiet, rebuild himself from the inside out, and show the world the real Adriano on the pitch—where it mattered.
Arthur, of course, understood. He wasn't thrilled—the showman in him had loved the idea of unveiling two stars at once—but deep down, he knew this was the right path. A player like Adriano needed peace, not pageantry.
And so, with the press fuming, the fans doubting, and Allen shaking his head, Arthur simply smiled to himself. The critics didn't see what he saw. They didn't know what was coming.
The season would tell the truth.
*****
Adriano had slept like a baby for the first time in years. No nightmares, no tossing and turning, no waking up drenched in sweat. Just peace.
When he opened his eyes in the little old house in Rio, he half expected the familiar wave of sorrow to come crashing back. But it didn't. He stretched, blinked at the sunlight streaming through the curtains, and then burst into laughter.
Still alive. Still normal. Still free.
He didn't waste a second—he picked up his phone and immediately called Arthur.
"Boss!" Adriano's booming voice filled the line before Arthur even said hello. "Tell me the truth. Did you use some mysterious… I don't know… magical power on me? I swear something's changed."
Arthur leaned back in his chair in Leeds, grinning at the absurdity. The injury recovery card had worked like a charm, but there was no way he was about to reveal his little secret. Let Adriano think he'd been blessed by football gods if he wanted.
"Mysterious power?" Arthur chuckled. "I wouldn't put it that way. Maybe it's just that you finally stopped drinking like a fish, eh?"
Adriano laughed, rubbing his forehead. "No, boss, you don't get it. I feel… lighter. For the first time in years, I can walk into my father's old house and not collapse.
I actually smiled there yesterday. Me! Smiling! I'm telling you, something's different."
Arthur let the silence hang for a moment, still smiling. "Well, sometimes football gives us more than goals and trophies, Didico. Sometimes it heals us too."
The Brazilian paused, as if rolling Arthur's words around in his head, then nodded to himself. "Maybe you're right, boss. Either way, I owe you one."
Arthur quickly shifted gears. "Good. Then you can repay me by being back in England for the press conference. Tomorrow morning, Elland Road. Cameras, reporters, the whole circus. The fans need to see you."
But Adriano's answer was immediate.
"No, boss. Not yet."
Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Not yet? Why?"
Adriano sighed, glancing around the tiny living room where his father's old records still sat. "Because I need more time here. I want to stay in this house, to feel him close again.
This place… it's helping me rebuild myself. I feel like I can reach a new level of determination. If I leave now, I'll lose that. Please understand."
It was such a strange excuse that Arthur didn't know whether to laugh or argue. Outrageous, yes—but at the same time, painfully human. He leaned back, exhaling through his nose.
"Alright," he said finally. "You win. Stay. But don't make me regret this."
That was why, instead of standing beside Kaka in front of flashing cameras, Adriano's signing had gone online with a quiet official announcement the day before.
The next morning – 9:30 AM, Elland Road
The press room at Elland Road was buzzing like a beehive. Reporters had started pouring in well before the official 10 o'clock start time, dragging tripods, setting up microphones, and swapping rumors over cups of lukewarm coffee.
"Bloody hell, Leeds really went big with this one," one journalist whispered as he adjusted his lens. "Announcing a new signing after the absolute grilling they got yesterday? Li's either mad or a genius."
Another snorted. "Mad. Definitely mad. Did you see The Sun's piece? They basically called him a money launderer. And instead of damage control, he's throwing another bloody party. Going against the wind—classic Arthur."
A third piped up, scrolling through his phone. "The funniest thing I've seen today is that fan on Twitter. Said maybe the 50 million went to bring Zidane back. Imagine Zidane in a Leeds shirt! I nearly pissed myself reading that."
The group erupted in laughter.
"Look, be serious," one of them said, leaning in. "Thirty-five million for Adriano. Yesterday it was chaos. So what's worth another fifty million? Who could possibly justify this madness? Some are whispering Kaka…"
"Bullshit," came the reply. "If Leeds United land Kaka, I'll eat my bloody laptop. Why would he leave Milan? Champions League winners, a perfect team, one of the best playmakers in the world—and he comes here? To Leeds? No chance, mate."
They shook their heads, chuckling at their own skepticism, but there was an edge of curiosity beneath it all.
In the lounge, not far from the press room.
Arthur sat on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, exuding calm confidence. Across from him sat Kaka, looking both relaxed and slightly nervous. The Brazilian star was already a golden boy of world football—handsome, elegant, beloved everywhere he went. Even so, this move was something else entirely.
"Boss," Kaka finally said with a wry smile, breaking the silence. "I didn't expect the other big signing you kept teasing me about to be Didico. If you'd told me that day…" He trailed off, shaking his head.
Arthur chuckled, lifting his teacup. "I know what you're worried about, Kaka." He locked eyes with him, steady and assured. "But don't. Didico's illness—it's gone. He's different now."
Kaka's eyes widened. "What? How is that possible?"
Arthur nodded firmly. "It's true. You'll see it yourself when he returns to training in a few days. Trust me, he's not the same man who left Milan."
Kaka leaned back, still unconvinced, but Arthur's conviction was difficult to ignore. "And he was supposed to be here today, with me?"
Arthur let out a short laugh. "Yes. That was the plan. But then he gave me a reason I couldn't refuse. Something about wanting to stay in his father's old house in Rio a little longer. Outrageous, but… it made sense."
Before Kaka could reply, the door swung open. Allen stepped inside, his usual anxious look replaced by brisk efficiency. He gave the two men a nod.
"Boss, it's almost time."
Arthur stood immediately, straightening his jacket and flashing Kaka a grin that carried both confidence and mischief. "Good. Let's go, then. Time to show those vultures out there what a real blockbuster transfer looks like. The most important signing in all of Europe this summer—no doubt about it."
Kaka rose to his feet, smoothing his shirt. For a brief moment, he hesitated, wondering how the world would react to seeing him in Leeds colors. Then he caught Arthur's grin and couldn't help but smile himself.
Whatever happened next, it was going to shake the football world to its core.