The next morning, Claire woke up early. By 8 a.m., he had already finished his physical training.
"I can't believe an Asian guy has such incredible stamina. If it weren't for your childhood lung injury, you could've contributed so much more to Manchester United on the field."
Claire walked out of the gym, listening to Cristiano Ronaldo's fitness coach shower him with praise. He was used to it by now—this was practically the guy's daily script.
At first, Claire had been flattered. But then he found out Ronaldo was paying this coach £10,000 per hour just to train him during recovery. After that, the compliments lost their charm.
"Yeah, yeah, you're absolutely right," Claire replied dryly. "Just make sure to tell Sir Alex Ferguson how much I miss playing for United, okay?"
"Don't worry, he hasn't forgotten you. He asked for your latest fitness report just yesterday."
On his way back to his hospital room, Claire indulged in a bit of celebrity treatment—signing a few autographs and taking selfies with some very attractive nurses.
But when he entered his empty room and saw the untouched meal on the table, he felt a pang of loneliness. Lucy wasn't there.
She had a job—Wolverhampton Wanderers' official matchday cheerleader—and today was their game against West Bromwich Albion. Claire couldn't expect her to drop everything for him.
"Ugh, still broke as hell. Even this suit was bought by my uncle. When will I live the life I want?" He sighed, adjusting his tie in the mirror.
Standing outside, Claire eyed Hyde Park—now bathed in sunlight, a stark contrast to last night's chaos.
"Damn capitalists. When I'm rich, I'll build a 24-hour free shelter for the homeless. Screw this system."
---
### Warner Music Deal
Claire's taxi rolled into London's West End, the playground of the wealthy. His destination? The Devonshire Club—a private members-only spot in the heart of the financial district.
The driver side-eyed Claire's muttered Chinese proverbs, then glanced nervously at the meter. "Hope this guy can afford the fare..."
Claire, noticing the skepticism, tossed three large bills onto the passenger seat.
"Hey, driving me is an honor," he said in flawless English. "Don't judge people by their skin color, you idiot."
The driver's face flushed red. Only when Claire removed his mask did recognition hit—
"Manchester United's prodigal son! What the f—?!"
Too late. Claire was already strutting into the club like he owned the place.
---
### The Meeting
Inside, the air buzzed with finance talk—stock tips, hedge funds, Amazon's latest earnings. But Claire's attention locked onto one table.
Daniel Sharp sat behind Peter Tang, her expression shifting from delight to a pout the second she saw Claire.
"Hmph!" She crossed her arms, refusing to acknowledge him.
Peter Tang broke the ice. "Claire, we've heard a lot about you."
"Ah, the pleasure's mine! Daniel's told me all about you too. And thank you for that Guardian review—it really boosted my song's popularity."
Peter smirked. "I'm surprised you chose Warner Music over Universal. Given your… friendship with Gavin Harris."
(Gavin was signed to Rihanna's label but distributed through Universal.)
Claire sipped his coffee, unfazed. The real players at the table were Warner execs.
His choice was simple:
- Warner had Hollywood ties (think Transformers 2's soundtrack with Linkin Park).
- Universal focused on tours—useless for a one-hit-wonder like him.
Peter Tang, sensing Claire's hesitation, clarified his presence: "I'm just here out of curiosity. And to thank you for looking after my niece."
Costa Mayor, Warner's UK head, cut to the chase.
"Your viral hit is impressive, but… it's just one EDM track. Can you deliver more?"
Claire leaned forward. "If we sign, I'll hand you my next demo immediately. I don't stick to one genre—and I trust Warner to market me right."
Costa exhaled. "Your player status, Peter's backing, and your Chinese heritage? It's a gamble… but we'll take it."
Then came the bombshell:
"Two-year contract. 60/40 split (our favor). £4.5 million signing bonus—after taxes."
Claire's jaw dropped.
No lawyer. No agent. Just Daniel, now tugging his arm like an excited puppy.
"SIGN IT ALREADY! Uncle pulled strings with Jeff Bewkes for this!"
Peter Tang's glare could've melted steel.
Flustered, Claire scribbled his name—Claire Lee and, for good measure, .
Daniel erupted into happy spins.
"Welcome to Warner Music UK, Mr. Lee."
Glasses clinked. But as Daniel downed her third champagne, the mood turned… awkward.
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