Then, finally, Miranda spoke. "We'll review it carefully."
Florentino smiled as if he expected nothing less. "Take your time. But remember…"
He gestured slightly, a quiet confidence behind his words.
"Madrid doesn't wait forever."
The talks continued, the conversation shifting to football, to history, to vision. No pressure, no desperation. Just Madrid being Madrid.
By the time they left the restaurant, Izan could feel it—the decision growing heavier on his shoulders.
...…
As Izan and Miranda stepped out of the restaurant, the Madrid night air was crisp, carrying with it the quiet hum of the city.
Their driver was already waiting, the blacked-out car idling by the curb.
Izan was silent, deep in thought. Two clubs, two visions, two futures. And he had to choose one.
Behind them, still inside the restaurant, Juni Calafat remained seated across from Florentino. He waited a beat, then glanced toward the club president.
