[*Well, the interest from Manchester City is real and public now. It could easily be something related to a contact, scout, intermediary, journalist, agent's assistant's dog, whatever. Football transfers get messy.*]
Lukas slowly relaxed back onto the pillow, staring up again.
"…Yeah. That makes sense. I hope that's what it is, anyway."
He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"Okay. I'll just… take it easy. I should call Joanna before I sleep," he said as he picked up his phone.
Meanwhile, down the hall—
Anne stood with her ear pressed gently against the bedroom door.
She could only make out fragments — Javi's voice was low, tense, words swallowed by the wood between them.
Then finally, one clear sentence:
"Don't call this number again."
The line went dead.
Before she could step away, the door opened. Javi stood there, shoulders taut, eyes distant. For a heartbeat he looked like a ghost of himself.
