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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
The house still felt empty without Leah, as the silence still lingered in every corner. But now, at least the fight had begun.
Night settled slowly over the mansion.
By the time the flood of notifications began to slow, the sky outside the tall windows had already darkened to deep blue. The last glow of sunset disappeared behind the trees lining the property, leaving only the soft garden lights illuminating the driveway.
Inside the house, the silence returned.
It wasn't the peaceful kind of silence.
It was the heavy kind, the kind that made every room feel too big.
Francesco Lee remained on the couch long after his statement had gone live. His phone lay on the table in front of him now, still lighting up occasionally as more reactions poured in from around the world.
Across from him, Jorge Mendes had moved into the kitchen briefly, returning with two glasses of water.
He placed one in front of Francesco.
"Drink," Jorge said calmly.
Francesco glanced at it.
"I'm not thirsty."
"You've barely eaten today either."
Francesco sighed but picked up the glass anyway, taking a small sip.
Jorge sat back down in the armchair across from him.
For a moment neither man spoke.
The muted television continued playing sports coverage. Now the story had evolved into long studio discussions.
Former players debated.
Journalists analyzed social media reactions.
Panels argued over credibility.
Francesco watched silently for a while.
Then he grabbed the remote and switched the TV off completely.
The screen went black.
"Enough," he muttered.
Jorge didn't object.
"You did what you needed to do today," the agent said.
Francesco leaned back into the couch.
"Doesn't feel like it."
"Because this kind of battle doesn't end in one day."
Francesco nodded slowly.
He already knew that.
Eventually Jorge stood up.
"I should go."
Francesco looked up.
"You don't have to."
Jorge smiled slightly.
"You need rest."
"I doubt I'll sleep."
"Try anyway."
They walked together toward the front door.
Jorge paused before leaving.
"Remember something," he said.
Francesco looked at him.
"The truth usually wins."
"Usually?" Francesco asked dryly.
Jorge chuckled softly.
"Eventually."
Then he stepped outside.
A few seconds later the car disappeared down the driveway, leaving Francesco alone again.
Morning light crept slowly into the mansion.
For a while the house remained perfectly still.
Then the quiet was broken by the sound of footsteps upstairs.
Francesco hadn't slept much.
Maybe two hours at most.
Most of the night had been spent staring at the ceiling or checking his phone as the scandal continued spreading across the internet.
When he finally gave up trying to sleep, he took a quick shower and walked downstairs.
The house still felt strange without Leah.
The small things were the worst reminders.
Her mug still sat beside the coffee machine.
A jacket she'd left hanging near the door.
Cheddar's empty dog bed in the corner of the living room.
Francesco paused when he saw that.
The little corgi had already become part of the house.
And now both the dog and Leah were gone.
He rubbed the back of his neck and walked into the kitchen.
Coffee.
That was the first thing he needed.
Just as he poured the first cup, a car pulled into the driveway again.
Francesco didn't even need to look out the window.
He already knew who it was.
A minute later the doorbell rang.
He opened the door.
Jorge Mendes stepped inside again, holding his phone in one hand and a folder under his arm.
"You look terrible," Jorge said immediately.
Francesco smirked faintly.
"Good morning to you too."
"Did you sleep?"
"Barely."
Jorge nodded knowingly.
"Expected."
Francesco handed him a cup of coffee.
Jorge accepted it gratefully.
"Thank you."
They walked back into the living room together.
The sunlight this morning felt harsher somehow.
Almost intrusive.
Both men sat down again in nearly the same positions as the day before.
Except today the situation had evolved.
Francesco grabbed the remote and turned the television back on.
Almost instantly the same story filled the screen.
The scandal.
The statement.
The debate.
Jorge leaned forward.
"Let's talk about next steps."
Francesco nodded.
"Alright."
Jorge opened the folder he'd brought.
Inside were printed reports from the overnight media coverage.
"Your statement worked," he said.
Francesco looked skeptical.
"Did it?"
"Yes."
Jorge pointed at a page.
"Public opinion is split now instead of one-sided."
Francesco looked at the chart.
It showed social media sentiment.
Support.
Neutral.
Negative.
Yesterday it had been overwhelmingly negative.
Now it was much more balanced.
"Your teammates speaking out helped a lot too," Jorge continued.
Francesco nodded.
"Yeah."
Jorge flipped another page.
"And the lawyers have begun preparing the defamation case against Sofia Carter."
Francesco leaned back slightly.
"How long will that take?"
"Legal processes are slow," Jorge said. "But the threat alone already puts pressure on her."
Francesco stared at the television.
"I still don't understand why she's doing this."
Jorge shrugged.
"Attention. Fame. Money."
"Or all three."
Francesco sighed.
Before he could reply, the news program suddenly changed tone.
The host's voice became sharper.
Breaking news graphics appeared on screen.
Jorge noticed immediately.
"Wait."
Francesco looked up.
The headline appeared across the bottom of the screen.
"NEW PHOTOS EMERGE FROM FRANCESCO'S MANSION."
Francesco frowned.
"What?"
The television cut to footage taken from outside the gates of the mansion.
Paparazzi shots.
Long-lens photographs.
The images slowly appeared one by one.
And then Francesco's stomach dropped.
On the screen…
There was Leah.
Leah Williamson.
The footage clearly showed her standing outside the house the day before.
Her eyes red.
A suitcase beside her.
And in her arms, Cheddar.
The little corgi.
Another image followed.
Leah placing the suitcase into the trunk of the Honda Civic.
Another image.
Francesco standing beside the car.
Trying to talk to her.
Trying to stop her.
Another.
The Civic driving away from the mansion gates.
The news anchor spoke over the images.
"Photos captured yesterday by The Sun appear to show Leah Williamson leaving Francesco's home shortly after the scandal broke…"
Francesco felt his chest tighten.
Jorge muttered quietly.
"Damn it."
The anchor continued.
"This development raises questions about whether the football star's relationship may have been affected by the controversy…"
More images appeared.
Francesco standing in the driveway.
Alone.
Watching the car leave.
From the outside.
The scene looked exactly like what the tabloids wanted it to be.
A relationship falling apart.
Proof that the scandal might be real.
Jorge leaned forward, grabbing the remote and lowering the volume slightly.
But the damage was already done.
Francesco stared at the screen silently.
The host continued speaking.
"Sources close to the situation have not confirmed whether the couple has separated, but these images suggest the allegations may have caused tension between them."
Jorge shook his head slowly.
"They were watching the house."
Francesco didn't respond.
His jaw tightened.
He knew paparazzi sometimes waited outside.
But he hadn't expected them to catch that moment.
The most painful moment of the entire day.
Now it was public.
Now the whole world could see it.
On the screen, a panel of commentators began discussing the images.
One journalist spoke first.
"If the allegations were completely false, you have to wonder why Leah would leave the house like this."
Another replied.
"Or maybe she simply needed space while the media storm exploded."
The debate continued.
Speculation layered on top of speculation.
Francesco leaned forward slowly, elbows resting on his knees again.
"That's exactly what they wanted."
Jorge nodded.
"Yes."
"Now they'll say even Leah doesn't believe me."
Jorge didn't sugarcoat it.
"They will."
Francesco rubbed his face.
This was the part he had feared.
The moment when his personal life became a public weapon.
The relationship he had tried to protect.
Now turned into evidence.
After a moment he stood up and walked toward the window.
Outside, the driveway looked exactly the same as yesterday.
But now it felt like the entire world had been watching.
Behind him, Jorge turned the TV volume back up slightly.
The host summarized the situation.
"Francesco released a statement yesterday denying the allegations, but these newly surfaced photos showing Leah Williamson leaving the house with luggage may raise further questions about the truth behind the scandal."
Francesco let out a slow breath.
He turned back toward Jorge.
"So what now?"
Jorge closed the folder.
The agent's expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp.
"We stay the course."
Francesco raised an eyebrow.
"That's it?"
"For now."
Jorge stood up and joined him near the window.
"This changes the optics," he admitted.
"But it doesn't change the facts."
Francesco crossed his arms.
"The media doesn't care about facts."
"Eventually they will."
Francesco looked unconvinced.
Jorge continued.
"The important thing is that your story hasn't changed."
He gestured toward the television.
"They're speculating. That's all."
Francesco watched the footage again.
Leah stepping into the Civic.
Him standing beside the door.
Trying to stop her.
That moment had been private.
Emotional.
Painful.
Now it was just another headline.
He looked away from the TV.
"I hate this."
Jorge nodded quietly.
"Everyone who becomes famous does at some point."
Francesco walked slowly back to the couch and sat down again.
He stared at the screen for a few seconds.
Then grabbed the remote and muted it once more.
Silence filled the room again.
But this time the silence carried something else.
Determination.
Francesco looked up at Jorge.
"They want proof?"
Jorge nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Francesco's voice hardened slightly.
"Then we give it to them."
Jorge smiled faintly.
The living room stayed quiet after that moment.
Not the same heavy silence as before.
This one carried tension.
Strategy.
Movement.
Francesco Lee remained seated on the couch, elbows resting on his knees again, staring at the blank television screen after muting it. His jaw was tight, but the exhaustion in his face had shifted slightly.
It wasn't helpless anymore.
It was focused.
Across from him, Jorge Mendes watched him carefully.
For years, Jorge had represented some of the most famous footballers in the world. He had seen scandals, controversies, media storms that swallowed players whole.
He knew the pattern.
The first day was always chaos.
The second day was the fight for control.
And the third day, the truth started pushing back.
Jorge picked up his phone.
"Alright," he said calmly.
Francesco looked up.
"What are you doing?"
Jorge gave a small smile.
"Using connections."
Francesco raised an eyebrow.
"That vague?"
Jorge chuckled.
"Media battles are never fought in public first. They start with phone calls."
Francesco leaned back slightly.
"Go on then."
Jorge stepped away toward the window, already dialing.
The first call lasted ten minutes.
Jorge spoke quietly, occasionally glancing at the documents in the folder he had brought earlier.
"Yes… I know what the tabloids are saying… but there's more footage."
Pause.
"Yes. CCTV."
Another pause.
"Exactly."
When the call ended, he immediately dialed another number.
Then another.
Francesco watched silently.
It was strange seeing the agent at work like this.
On the pitch, Francesco fought defenders.
Off the pitch, Jorge fought narratives.
After the third call, Jorge sat down again.
"Okay," he said.
Francesco leaned forward.
"What did you just do?"
Jorge placed his phone on the table.
"I opened the first crack."
Francesco frowned slightly.
"Meaning?"
Jorge pointed toward the muted television.
"The media loves a scandal."
Francesco nodded.
"But they also love a reversal."
Francesco blinked.
"A reversal?"
"Nothing excites journalists more than discovering the first story might be wrong."
Francesco slowly understood.
"You're feeding them something new."
Jorge smiled slightly.
"Exactly."
Francesco crossed his arms.
"And what exactly are we feeding them?"
Jorge opened the folder again.
Inside was a printed still image.
Black and white.
Security camera footage.
"This," Jorge said.
Francesco leaned forward.
It was a screenshot from the nightclub CCTV.
The timestamp clearly visible.
The image showed him leaving through the club's entrance.
Alone.
No Sofia beside him.
No dramatic scene.
No secret romance.
Just him walking out with two teammates behind him.
Still wearing the same clothes from earlier that night.
Normal.
Ordinary.
Francesco exhaled slowly.
"You got the CCTV?"
Jorge nodded.
"The club cooperated."
"Why?"
"Because they don't want their venue tied to a false scandal either."
Francesco looked back at the image.
He remembered that moment clearly.
He had left early.
Before the rest of the group.
And definitely before Sofia.
Jorge leaned back slightly.
"This is the key."
Francesco nodded slowly.
"It proves she didn't leave with me."
"Exactly."
"And if she didn't leave with you," Jorge continued, "then the narrative about the two of you disappearing together collapses."
Francesco let out a quiet breath.
For the first time since the scandal began…
He felt real hope.
About an hour later, the first sign appeared.
The television screen flashed another sports news segment.
Jorge unmuted it.
A journalist sat behind a desk, speaking directly into the camera.
"New developments may challenge the initial narrative surrounding the nightclub controversy involving football star Francesco Lee."
Francesco leaned forward slightly.
On screen, a still frame appeared.
The CCTV image.
The same one Jorge had shown him minutes earlier.
The journalist continued.
"Sources have obtained security footage from the nightclub showing Lee leaving the venue alone shortly after midnight."
Another angle appeared.
A wider camera view.
Francesco walking out.
Two teammates behind him.
But no Sofia.
"According to the timestamp, the player exited the club well before the woman at the center of the allegations."
The journalist paused.
"This raises new questions about the timeline previously suggested in reports."
Francesco felt his chest loosen slightly.
Jorge simply nodded.
"That's step one."
Francesco glanced at him.
"What's step two?"
"Wait."
It didn't take long.
Within minutes the footage began spreading across social media.
Sports pages shared the clip.
Fans slowed the video down frame by frame.
The comment sections exploded again.
But this time the tone was different.
Wait… he left without her?
So how could they have gone home together?
The story isn't making sense.
Why didn't the tabloids show this before?
Francesco refreshed his phone slowly.
For the first time since the scandal began…
The comments defending him were outnumbering the attacks.
Not completely.
But noticeably.
One fan wrote:
This looks like a setup.
Another:
If he left alone, Sofia's story has holes.
Another:
Media rushed the scandal again.
Francesco looked up.
"People are noticing."
Jorge nodded.
"They always do once evidence appears."
By midday, more outlets picked up the story.
Sports analysts began examining the footage in detail.
On television, one presenter paused the CCTV frame and pointed at the screen.
"Notice something here," he said.
Francesco watched carefully.
The analyst zoomed in on the image.
"Look at his clothes."
The frame showed Francesco clearly.
The same shirt.
The same jacket.
The same outfit from earlier photos inside the club.
Nothing disheveled.
Nothing unusual.
The analyst continued.
"If the alleged events occurred after this moment, we would expect to see some evidence of it here. But Lee appears completely ordinary when leaving."
Another journalist nodded.
"Which contradicts the idea that he left with Sofia Carter."
The footage replayed again.
Francesco exiting calmly.
No sign of her.
Francesco leaned back slightly.
"They're analyzing my clothes now?"
Jorge chuckled softly.
"That's how investigations work."
"But it helps," he added. "Because it shows there was no secret moment after the photo."
Francesco rubbed the back of his neck.
"I never thought normal clothes would become evidence."
"Welcome to scandal management," Jorge said dryly.
By afternoon, something else happened.
One of the major sports networks aired a timeline analysis.
A large digital graphic appeared on the screen.
11:12 PM — Photo inside nightclub.
11:48 PM — CCTV footage shows Francesco leaving.
12:20 AM — Sofia still inside venue.
The host pointed at the timeline.
"If this information is accurate, then the two individuals did not leave the nightclub together."
Another journalist added:
"And that raises serious questions about the claims made by Sofia Carter."
Francesco watched silently.
Jorge looked satisfied.
"That," he said quietly, "is what we needed."
Francesco nodded slowly.
The cracks were visible now.
Not everyone would change their opinion immediately.
But the certainty that had surrounded the accusations was disappearing.
Later that afternoon, another report appeared.
This one wasn't about CCTV.
It was about reputation.
A sports columnist spoke directly to the camera.
"Francesco Lee has spent years building a reputation as one of football's most disciplined professionals."
Images flashed across the screen.
Francesco lifting trophies.
Celebrating goals.
Training with teammates.
Fans cheering.
The columnist continued.
"While no public figure is perfect, it is worth noting that Lee has never previously been involved in a scandal of this nature."
Francesco sighed softly.
Jorge glanced at him.
"You see?"
Francesco nodded.
"My image matters."
"Exactly."
Jorge leaned forward slightly.
"People trust patterns."
"And your pattern is professionalism."
By evening, social media had changed dramatically.
The same posts that attacked him yesterday were now being questioned.
Clips of the CCTV footage circulated everywhere.
Hashtags began trending.
#FrancescoTruth
#CheckTheTimeline
Fans posted side-by-side comparisons of the timeline.
Others criticized the tabloids for rushing the story.
Francesco scrolled slowly through the posts.
One fan wrote:
If the CCTV is real, Sofia's story doesn't add up.
Another:
Respect to Francesco for staying calm through this.
Another:
The media owes him an apology.
Francesco looked up at Jorge.
"Do you think this will completely flip?"
Jorge shook his head slightly.
"Not completely."
"Why?"
"Because scandals always leave some doubt."
Francesco sighed.
"Great."
"But," Jorge added calmly, "we're winning the narrative now."
As evening approached again, another major sports channel aired a summary segment.
The anchor spoke clearly.
"New evidence continues to challenge the initial allegations made against footballer Francesco Lee."
The CCTV footage played again.
This time alongside commentary from multiple analysts.
One analyst said:
"The timeline presented earlier by Sofia Carter now appears inconsistent with the available footage."
Another added:
"This doesn't automatically prove her claims are false, but it certainly raises serious doubts."
The anchor concluded:
"For now, the situation remains under review as Lee's legal team continues preparing possible legal action."
The segment ended.
The TV screen switched to other sports news.
Inside the living room, the tension slowly eased.
Francesco leaned back on the couch again.
For the first time in two days…
He didn't feel like the entire world was against him.
He looked at Jorge.
"Your connections worked."
Jorge smiled faintly.
"They always do eventually."
Francesco stared at the quiet television screen for a moment.
Then he said something softly.
"I just wish Leah could see all this."
Jorge didn't respond immediately.
But he understood exactly what Francesco meant.
The living room gradually quieted after the last broadcast ended.
For a long time, neither man spoke.
The television screen now showed some completely unrelated sports segment from highlights from matches, transfer rumors, preseason discussions but neither Francesco Lee nor Jorge Mendes paid attention to it anymore.
The important battle had already happened that day.
The narrative had shifted.
Not completely.
But enough.
Francesco leaned back deeper into the couch, rubbing his face slowly with both hands. The exhaustion from the past forty-eight hours was beginning to settle into his bones. It wasn't just physical exhaustion.
It was emotional.
The kind that came from being judged by millions of strangers at the same time.
Jorge stood near the window again, looking out toward the driveway.
The evening sky above Richmond had darkened once more. The garden lights illuminated the edges of the property in soft golden pools, while the tall trees beyond the fence swayed slightly in the cool night breeze.
After a moment, Jorge spoke.
"Get some rest tonight."
Francesco let out a quiet breath.
"I'll try."
Jorge turned back toward him.
"You've done enough today."
Francesco nodded slowly.
The CCTV footage.
The timeline analysis.
The shift in public opinion.
For the first time since the scandal started, things were moving in his direction.
But one thought still lingered in the back of his mind.
Leah.
He looked down at his phone again, half hoping to see a message from Leah Williamson.
There was nothing.
Just more notifications.
More articles.
More debates.
Jorge noticed the glance.
"She'll see the news," he said quietly.
Francesco didn't respond.
But he hoped Jorge was right.
Eventually, Jorge gathered his things again.
"Tomorrow morning I'll come by," he said.
Francesco looked up.
"Another strategy meeting?"
Jorge smiled slightly.
"Something like that."
They walked toward the front door together.
Before leaving, Jorge paused again.
"You handled this well."
Francesco raised an eyebrow.
"I mostly just sat here while you made phone calls."
Jorge shook his head.
"No."
He pointed toward the television.
"You didn't panic."
He pointed toward Francesco's phone.
"You didn't lash out."
Then he tapped the folder under his arm.
"And you trusted the process."
Francesco shrugged faintly.
"Didn't really have another choice."
Jorge chuckled.
"That's usually when people make their biggest mistakes."
Then he stepped outside.
A moment later the car engine started.
And the driveway returned to silence once again.
Sunlight poured through the tall windows earlier than Francesco expected.
He woke slowly, blinking against the brightness.
For the first time in days, he had actually slept for more than a couple of hours.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
He lay there for a moment staring at the ceiling.
His mind immediately started replaying the past few days.
The photo.
The accusations.
The media frenzy.
The CCTV footage.
The shift in public opinion.
It still felt surreal.
Eventually he rolled out of bed and headed downstairs.
The mansion was quiet again.
Still too quiet.
The absence of Leah and Cheddar still lingered in the corners of the house like an echo.
He walked into the kitchen and poured himself coffee.
Just as he took the first sip.
A familiar car pulled into the driveway.
Francesco sighed softly.
"Right on time."
A minute later the doorbell rang.
He opened the door.
Jorge Mendes stood outside again, dressed sharply as always.
But today he looked slightly more energized than usual.
Francesco noticed immediately.
"That's a dangerous look."
Jorge smirked as he stepped inside.
"What look?"
"The 'I have news' look."
Jorge chuckled.
"You know me too well."
They walked into the living room again.
Francesco turned the TV on out of habit, but the story about him had already begun fading from the front page.
Other sports stories were starting to dominate the headlines again.
Upcoming transfers.
When the preseason began.
The scandal was still there.
But it wasn't the only thing anymore.
Jorge sat down and opened his briefcase.
"Alright," he said.
Francesco crossed his arms.
"What now?"
Jorge pulled out a set of documents and placed them on the coffee table.
"Our lawyers have officially filed the lawsuit."
Francesco leaned forward slightly.
"Already?"
"Yes."
Jorge tapped the documents.
"The legal team has sued Sofia Carter for defamation."
Francesco stared at the papers.
It suddenly felt very real.
Not just a media fight anymore.
A legal one.
Jorge continued calmly.
"The case was filed this morning."
Francesco ran a hand through his hair.
"That was fast."
Jorge shrugged.
"High-profile cases move quickly."
Francesco looked back at him.
"What happens now?"
Jorge leaned back in his chair.
"Well… tomorrow we go to court."
Francesco blinked.
"Tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"That soon?"
Jorge nodded.
"The initial hearing."
Francesco stared at the papers again.
For the past two days everything had felt chaotic and unpredictable.
Now there was structure.
A process.
A courtroom.
Evidence.
Truth.
He slowly nodded.
"Alright."
Jorge watched him carefully.
"Nervous?"
Francesco thought for a moment.
Then shrugged.
"Not really."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't do anything."
Jorge smiled faintly.
"That tends to help in court."
Francesco leaned back again.
Part of him actually felt relieved.
The legal battle meant the story would move out of the gossip pages and into a place where facts mattered.
Where evidence mattered.
Where lies could be exposed.
They were still talking when, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway interrupted them.
Both men paused.
Jorge glanced toward the window.
"You expecting someone?"
Francesco frowned slightly.
"No."
The car engine turned off.
A moment later…
A familiar door slammed shut outside.
Francesco stood up slowly.
Something about the sound felt strangely familiar.
He walked toward the front door.
When he opened it.
He froze.
Standing on the driveway was Leah Williamson.
She looked tired.
Her hair slightly messy from the drive.
Beside her stood a suitcase.
And in her arms.
Cheddar.
The small corgi looked just as energetic as ever, tail wagging the moment he spotted Francesco.
For a moment none of them moved.
Francesco blinked.
"Leah?"
She looked at him.
Her eyes were red.
Like she hadn't slept much either.
Then suddenly she walked forward.
The suitcase rolled slightly behind her.
Cheddar barked once happily.
Before Francesco could even process what was happening, Leah wrapped her arms around him.
Tightly.
The hug caught him completely off guard.
For a moment he simply stood there frozen.
Then slowly his arms lifted and wrapped around her too.
He could feel her shoulders trembling slightly.
Her voice came out soft against his chest.
"I'm sorry."
Francesco blinked in confusion.
"Sorry?"
She pulled back just enough to look up at him.
"I shouldn't have left like that."
Francesco stared at her.
Behind them, Jorge quietly stepped back into the living room, giving them space.
Leah continued softly.
"I panicked."
Francesco shook his head slightly.
"You had every reason to."
"No."
Her grip tightened slightly around his shirt.
"I should have trusted you."
Francesco exhaled slowly.
For the first time in days…
The tension in his chest started melting away.
Cheddar squirmed in Leah's arms and jumped down onto the driveway, immediately running in circles around their legs like nothing dramatic had happened at all.
Francesco let out a quiet laugh.
Leah wiped at her eyes slightly.
"I saw the news."
Francesco nodded.
"The CCTV?"
"Yes."
She took a breath.
"And the timeline."
Francesco said nothing.
Leah looked at him again.
"I knew you were telling the truth."
Francesco's voice came out quiet.
"Then why did you leave?"
Leah hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
"Because everything happened so fast."
She gestured vaguely toward the world beyond the gates.
"The headlines. The photos. The cameras outside the house."
She looked down for a moment.
"I just needed time to breathe."
Francesco nodded slowly.
He understood that.
Anyone would have needed space.
Leah looked back up at him again.
"But I should have talked to you first."
Francesco gave a small shrug.
"Well…"
He gestured toward Cheddar, who was now excitedly sniffing around the front steps.
"At least you brought him back."
Leah laughed softly.
"Of course I did."
They stood there for another moment.
Just looking at each other.
Then Francesco picked up the suitcase.
"Come inside."
Leah nodded.
Together they walked back into the mansion.
Cheddar sprinted ahead of them down the hallway like he had never left.
From the living room, Jorge watched quietly with a satisfied expression.
Sometimes…
Winning the media battle was important.
But watching two people find their way back to each other, That was the victory that really mattered.
______________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 18 (2016)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, and 2016/2017 Champions League.
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9