Chapter 88: Four Hundred Thousand Pounds
Alex stepped into the chairman’s office expecting spreadsheets, scouting reports, maybe even a frustrating conversation about the January transfer budget, arguments over scouting lists and statistical targets, maybe a debate about wages and whether Lecce could afford to push for the extra midfielder he needed.
What he didn’t expect was silence.
The air inside the office felt strangely still, heavy, almost thick, like the moments before a thunderstorm. No papers spread across the desk, no mugs with coffee rings and pencil scribbles along the sides, no staff waiting quietly in the corners. Just the chairman, seated behind his desk with his elbows resting on the wood, his hands folded neatly, and a curious look in his eyes.
The sporting director wasn’t even there, which was odd, given the time of year.
Alex stood there for a moment, blinking, trying to recalibrate.
"Chairman," Alex said, giving him the usual respectful nod.
"Alex," the chairman replied, his voice even, calm, motioning for him to sit with a small flick of his wrist.
Alex obeyed, lowering himself into the chair, trying to keep his posture straight, trying to ignore the tension building in his legs, the slight twitch in his calf as he settled.
"So," he began, trying to set the tone, "January plans? I’ve got a few ideas I’ve been working on with the system, target profiles in case we can shift some salaries, and-"
The chairman raised a hand, palm out, stopping him mid-sentence.
"We’ll get to that," he said casually.