Friday morning at 'The Oaks' was peaceful. The kind of peace that Rio Lance had paid four and a half million pounds to secure.
The Manchester rain tapped gently against the large kitchen windows, blurring the view of the green garden. Inside, the smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled the air.
Rio sat at the wooden island, nursing a protein shake while his dad, Carlos, read a physical newspaper.
"Dad," Rio mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "You know you can read that on an iPad, right?"
"I like the ink, son," Carlos grunted, turning a page. "It smells like news. An iPad smells like... nothing. Like Leo."
Rio chuckled. His mom, Maria, placed a plate of eggs in front of him.
"Eat," she commanded gently. "Tonight is Burnley. You need strength. I saw that manager of theirs, Kompany. He looks like he eats defenders for breakfast."
"He used to, Mom," Rio smiled, cutting into an egg. "Now he just wears a cap and shouts."
