Richard opened his eyes to the familiar ceiling of the place he was staying in Manchester.
Slowly, he got up and began his usual morning routine—nothing special, just the normal things.
No work.
No football.
After locking his room door, he took a deep breath. Yesterday, around the 60th minute of the match, something bad had happened. Very bad.
Ronaldo had collapsed.
He had suffered a sudden seizure right in the middle of the match and had to be carried off on a stretcher.
Without wasting a second, Richard jumped into his Porsche and sped off toward Wythenshawe Hospital—one of the busiest and most highly-rated hospitals in North West Manchester, and the one Manchester City currently collaborated with.
Expensive, yes. But worth every penny.
Eighteen-year-old Ronaldo simply couldn't handle the pressure of Old Trafford.
