Chapter 158: Finding a replacement

Words : 1599 Updated : Sep 29th, 2025

Allen stared at the computer screen, his eyebrows knitting together as he took in the image of the grinning, curly-haired teenager Arthur had pulled up. There was something almost infectious about Marcelo's smile—the kind of unshakable confidence that made you either love him immediately or want to wipe that smirk off his face yourself. "Marcelo?" Allen repeated, skepticism dripping from his voice. "Real Madrid's actually interested in this kid?" Arthur's fingers paused over the keyboard for just a fraction of a second—just long enough for Allen to catch it. A tell. His boss was usually unshakable, but that tiny hesitation said everything. "Raiola's been pushing him hard," Arthur replied smoothly, recovering fast. "Says Madrid's scouts have been sniffing around. If we don't move now, we lose him." Allen wasn't buying it. Not entirely. Arthur had a habit of bending the truth when it suited him, especially when it came to transfers. But the logic was sound—Marcelo was raw, explosive, and exactly the kind of wildcard Arthur loved to mold. "Budget?" Allen asked, already mentally calculating how much of their war chest this would eat into. Arthur leaned back, fingers steepled. "Ten million. Max. But here's the play—we buy him, then loan him straight to Real Sociedad. Let him get his feet wet in La Liga. If Maicon stays, great. If he leaves? We've got a ready-made replacement who's already acclimated to top-flight football." Allen let out a low whistle. "You're not just planning for next season. You're planning for the one after that." Arthur's grin was all teeth. "And the one after that." Four days later, inside the packed London Olympic Stadium, the mystery of Maicon's absence was the only thing anyone could talk about. The Sky Sports studio was in chaos, with Gary Lineker flipping through the team sheet like it was a puzzle he couldn't solve. "Jon, explain this to me like I'm five," Lineker said, tapping the paper. "Where the hell is Maicon?" Jon Champion could only shrug. The lineup showed Mills at left-back, Lahm shifted over to the right, and no trace of Leeds' Brazilian powerhouse. No injury reports, no whispers of a fallout—just radio silence. "Training knock? Tactical shake-up?" Jon ventured, though neither explanation felt right. Lineker's eyes narrowed. "Or Arthur's making a point." On the pitch, West Ham looked like they'd been thrown into a blender. Leeds' usual 4-3-3 shape morphed into something far more aggressive when they had the ball—Mills and Lahm surging forward like auxiliary wingers, leaving West Ham's fullbacks scrambling. The breakthrough came in the 24th minute. Mills, who hadn't started a league game in months, combined with Ribery in a slick one-two before whipping in a cross. West Ham's keeper, Carroll, managed to punch it clear—but only as far as Rivaldo, lurking at the edge of the box. The Brazilian took one touch to steady himself, sold the nearest defender a dummy with a feint, and then unleashed a left-footed rocket that kissed the top corner before Carroll could even react. The lead settled Leeds into a rhythm, but West Ham came out swinging after halftime, clearly buoyed by a fiery team talk. For ten frantic minutes, they pinned Leeds back, forcing Schmeichel into two desperate saves. Arthur's voice cut through the noise from the touchline, his usual calm replaced by something far sharper. "Wake the hell up!" he roared, gesturing wildly. "This isn't a friendly!" The message got through. In the 69th minute, Ribery—frustrated after being shut down on the right—laid the ball off to De Bruyne. The Belgian didn't even break stride. With a single, almost casual flick of his right foot, he lofted a perfect ball over the defense, where Torres timed his run to perfection. The Spaniard met it first-time, volleying it past Carroll before the keeper could even twitch. 2-0. Game over. As the final whistle blew, the cameras caught Arthur's satisfied smirk. No Maicon? No problem. The machine kept rolling. But in the post-match presser, when the first reporter dared to ask about the Brazilian's absence, Arthur's smile didn't waver. "Team selection is my decision," he said, tone light but eyes flinty. "And today, the team won." The unspoken message was clear: No one is bigger than this club. Not even Maicon. **** The final whistle at London Stadium had blown with predictable inevitability. Leeds United's 2-0 victory over West Ham barely registered as news - just another routine win for the Premier League's surprise title contenders. The sports pages the next morning devoted more column inches to analyzing Torres' exquisite volley than to the actual result. But beneath this surface calm, tectonic plates were shifting in the Leeds United hierarchy, and the earthquake would hit with devastating force by midday. Charles Walters, the Manchester Evening News reporter who had become Arthur's most vocal media critic since their explosive press conference confrontation months earlier, broke the story that would dominate football discourse for weeks. Antonio, Maicon's high-powered agent, had approached Walters with what he called "explosive revelations about the tyrannical regime at Leeds United." The resulting exclusive interview read like a declaration of war. "What Arthur Morgan is doing borders on criminal," Antonio fumed in the piece, his words dripping with barely-contained rage. "My client is being held hostage by a man who believes footballers should be grateful slaves rather than professionals. Maicon is 26 years old, in the prime of his career, and has been unceremoniously dumped in the reserves because he dared to negotiate his worth." The details Antonio provided were damning in their specificity. According to the agent, during what should have been routine contract extension talks, Arthur had presented an ultimatum with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer: accept our terms within 48 hours or spend the next eighteen months training with teenagers. The proposed contract itself - while financially generous at 2.5 times Maicon's current wages - contained what Antonio called "modern-day slavery clauses," including a prohibitive release fee and behavioral stipulations that would essentially make the Brazilian Arthur's indentured servant. "When Maicon respectfully asked for time to consider these extraordinary demands," Antonio continued, "Arthur didn't even bother to respond. The next day, my client arrived at training to find his locker moved to the reserve team dressing room. No explanation. No discussion. Just the cold, calculated humiliation of a player who has given everything for that club." The football world reacted with volcanic fury. By noon, #FreeMaicon was trending across European Twitter. Gary Lineker devoted his entire Match of the Day analysis segment to the controversy, calling it "one of the most disturbing cases of player mistreatment in Premier League history." The Professional Footballers' Association announced an emergency meeting to discuss possible intervention. Fan reaction split along predictable but fascinating lines. Leeds supporters largely backed their manager, with one prominent fan channel arguing, "Arthur built this club from ruins - if he says jump, players should ask how high." The broader football community reacted with outrage, with former players lining up to condemn Arthur's methods. "This isn't the 1950s," tweeted Rio Ferdinand. "You can't treat players like cattle anymore." Interestingly, the most nuanced take came from an unexpected quarter - Jose Mourinho, never one to shy from controversy, told Sky Sports: "People calling Arthur a dictator don't understand modern management. Sometimes you must be ruthless to protect the club. But... there are lines." As the storm raged, Arthur maintained radio silence. While journalists camped outside Thorp Arch demanding comment, Leeds' enigmatic manager was already executing phase two of his masterplan. Unbeknownst to the baying media pack, Arthur had anticipated this exact scenario. The day before the West Ham match, transfer chief Ron had finalized an €8 million deal for Fluminense's teenage sensation Marcelo. More crucially, Arthur had instructed his PR team to prepare a devastating counterattack. When Yorkshire Post journalist Martin Lind received an anonymous package containing audio recordings of Antonio's conversations with Real Madrid executive - in which the agent actively shopped Maicon while publicly professing loyalty to Leeds - the narrative began to shift dramatically. The tapes revealed Antonio boasting about "forcing Leeds' hand" and "getting Maicon his dream move," directly contradicting his claims of good faith negotiations. Meanwhile, Arthur was already in Seville, personally negotiating with Sevilla president José María del Nido for Dani Alves. The timing was impeccable - as English media obsessed over the Maicon saga, Arthur was quietly assembling a right-back upgrade who would make the Brazilian's absence irrelevant. Back in Leeds, the reserve team staff reported Maicon training with quiet professionalism, refusing to be drawn into the media circus. This dignified response earned him subtle praise from unexpected quarters, with even some Leeds hardcores acknowledging his handling of the situation. The chess match was far from over, but Arthur had demonstrated why he remained three moves ahead of everyone else. While the world saw a manager cracking under pressure, those who knew Arthur Knight recognized the cold, calculated strategy of a man playing the long game - one where short-term criticism mattered far less than long-term control. As the team plane returned from Spain, Arthur finally broke his silence with a text to his backroom staff: "Weather the storm. The skies will clear." The message was clear - this wasn't a crisis, but the opening gambit in Arthur's most audacious power play yet.

Chapter 158: Finding a replacement

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