Chapter 191: Probing Each Other

Words : 1853 Updated : Oct 1st, 2025

The visitors were none other than Adriano Galliani, the slick and silver-headed vice president of AC Milan, and his ever-composed comrade, Carlo Ancelotti, Milan's head coach and football's answer to a well-aged bottle of red wine. They weren't just in Zurich for coffee and pastries—they, like Arthur, were here to attend the Champions League Round of 16 draw scheduled for later that evening. But as far as Arthur was concerned, the draw could wait. Right now, something much more intriguing was brewing—possibly even more complex than UEFA's seeding system. It all started on New Year's Day, when Arthur had a quick chat with Raiola. A couple of casual words, a couple of subtle suggestions, and next thing he knew, Raiola was on the phone with Galliani. Typical Mino—he probably called him right from his jacuzzi while signing three different contracts. Three days ago, the reply finally came through. Galliani was interested. And thanks to Raiola's tireless deal-brokering, the five men now found themselves seated in a corner booth at this quiet Zurich café, surrounded by the smell of fresh espresso and expensive intentions. As they settled into their chairs, Galliani cleared his throat and gestured toward the dignified man next to him. "Mr. Morgan," he said, with a polished smile, "this is our AC Milan head coach, Carlo Ancelotti." Arthur leaned forward and offered his hand with genuine enthusiasm. "It's an honor, Mr. Ancelotti. I really admire your coaching style." And he wasn't just saying it to be polite. Arthur meant it. The man in front of him wasn't just a manager—he was football royalty. Tactical wizardry wrapped in a trench coat. At this point, Ancelotti didn't look nearly as... well-fed as he would later during his time at Real Madrid. No offense to the man, but Arthur had seen future photos where he looked like he'd been spending a bit too much time at Spanish tapas bars. Despite knowing this meeting could have serious consequences for one of his prized players, Ancelotti was all grace and charm. The smile on his face wasn't just diplomatic—it was warm, sincere, the kind that made you feel like he already forgave you for stealing his star striker. Seeing Arthur reach out so respectfully, Ancelotti stood up again, straightened his posture, removed his hat with his left hand like an old-school gentleman, and placed it over his chest. Then, in a move so classy it could've been choreographed, he leaned forward and shook Arthur's hand. "Mr. Morgan," Ancelotti said with a slight bow, "it's truly an honor to receive such praise from you." Arthur blinked. What the hell? So humble? This was not what he expected. In his head, he always imagined elite European coaches as poker-faced strategists who barely flinched, let alone bowed. But here was Ancelotti, humble and elegant like he was applying for sainthood. Arthur couldn't help but remember something he'd once read online—probably on some football forum with too many emojis and not enough punctuation. They'd said Ancelotti wasn't a dictator like Ferguson or Capello. He didn't rule by fear or thunderous hairdryers. He ruled with calm, with emotional intelligence, with careful balance. He was the kind of man who could walk the tightrope between a stubborn club president, a prima donna superstar, and his own tactical preferences—and somehow keep everyone happy. No shouting, no ultimatums. Just quiet authority and mutual respect. It was the kind of leadership Arthur could get behind. Just then, as if on cue, the waiter arrived with two cups of hot coffee, sliding them gently onto the table like he knew world-class deals were being brewed alongside the beans. With everyone finally seated and the pleasantries complete, it was time to get down to business. Raiola, sitting comfortably in the middle like a smug, caffeinated chessmaster, clapped his hands together and took the lead. His voice was casual, but his eyes were sharp. "Mr. Galliani," he said smoothly, "as the middleman between you and Mr. Morgan, I've already passed along Mr. Morgan's general intentions. I wonder—have you had a chance to discuss this with Carlo?" Now, Galliani didn't respond immediately. He sat back slightly, crossed one leg over the other, and gave a look that could've been carved out of sarcasm. Instead of answering Raiola's question, his gaze danced between Arthur and the super-agent. His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Mino," he said slowly, "I have to ask... are you working for Mr. Morgan now?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. Raiola nearly spilled his espresso. "You must be joking, Mr. Galliani!" Mino waved his hands as if warding off a lawsuit. "It's my professional code not to get too cozy with club management. I always keep the proper distance." "Oh?" Galliani tilted his head slightly, still looking more amused than convinced. His eyes narrowed—not at Mino this time, but directly at Arthur. "That's funny," Galliani said. "Because from what I heard, it wasn't just Zlatan. You also helped Cannavaro move to Leeds United last summer, didn't you? And—this is even more curious—the difficulties we've had in negotiating Kaka's renewal somehow became public knowledge... in England." He leaned forward slightly. "Now how could that possibly happen?" Arthur didn't flinch, but Raiola looked like he'd just been caught with a hand in the transfer jar. "This..." Mino started, his smile faltering as he tried to come up with a response that wouldn't get him blacklisted by both parties in one afternoon. He was clearly stalling. And Arthur was quietly enjoying the spectacle. **** Arthur gave a dry chuckle, raising both hands slightly like he was trying to ward off a sudden snowstorm of suspicion. "Hahaha, Mr. Galliani, you've got it all wrong," he said, his tone light but composed. "Regarding Kaka's contract negotiations not going smoothly—well, Leeds United has its own intelligence network, you know. The scouts I pay hefty salaries to aren't just there to lounge around, sipping tea and gossiping." He leaned back in his chair a little, flashing his most diplomatic smile. "After learning about the situation, I contacted Mino myself. We've worked well together before, and I trust him. He passed my message along to you immediately. You've seen for yourself—nothing leaked along the way, right?" Galliani stared at Arthur for a moment, gauging his expression. Then, just as quickly as the tension had built, his shoulders eased, and the sharp gleam in his eyes softened. Truth was, he had been hoping for exactly this sort of explanation. Too many people were aware of the issues between Kaka and AC Milan behind the scenes, and it was getting messy. If word got out further—especially to the press—it could throw a wrench into negotiations and damage both the club's and the player's reputation. And honestly, Galliani was getting sick of Gaetalo, Kaka's agent. Greedy didn't even begin to describe that man. If it hadn't been for Gaetalo's constant interference and ridiculous demands, Galliani could've sealed the new contract weeks ago—and probably at a cheaper price, too. Kaka's future had been the elephant in the boardroom for months. The Milan directors had discussed it thoroughly, and while opinions varied, the overwhelming majority wanted to keep the Brazilian star. He wasn't just talented—he was practically a PR dream. Handsome, professional, humble, and consistently brilliant on the pitch. Ancelotti, sitting right next to Galliani, was among the most vocal supporters of keeping Kaka. Even though AC Milan had a massive global fanbase, Galliani—as the man steering the ship of this century-old football institution—knew how vital Kaka was to the club's image and aspirations over the next five years. Letting him go would mean more than just losing a player. It would mean letting go of their future. And besides, Kaka himself wasn't eager to leave either. If there had been any alternative, Galliani wouldn't even be sitting here in this quiet little café in Zurich, sipping bitter coffee in the cold with Arthur Morgan and Raiola. But the reality was, things were shifting. Italian football had been sliding downhill since the early 2000s. Serie A, once the crown jewel of European football, had lost its shine. La Liga and the Premier League were steadily poaching their best talents. The money was bigger, the stadiums newer, and the taxes—well, at least more manageable. Worse still was the infamous "Calciopoli" scandal—the so-called "Phone Gate" that had rocked the league last year. It had blown a hole straight through the already fragile reputation of Italian football. Galliani had hoped the fans would come back once the season got rolling again, but halfway in, San Siro still had entire blocks of empty seats. It was a disheartening sight. Ticket sales were down. Merchandise was down. Sponsorships weren't coming in like they used to. And Berlusconi—the boss himself—had quietly cut back on his investment in the club, citing "other financial priorities." In Galliani's mind, that was code for "deal with it yourself." If Ancelotti hadn't been delivering decent results on the pitch, Galliani might've jumped ship already. So, when Raiola told him that Arthur Morgan—this young, sharp Leeds United manager—was interested in buying Kaka, Galliani did something he hadn't expected. He called for a board meeting. He needed to see if it was possible. Just how far could this go? Kaka's contract was still valid for another year and a half. He was currently on a pre-tax salary of 6 million euros. Galliani's plan, in good faith, was to raise that to 9 million—pushing Milan's limits but still manageable. But then Gaetalo, ever the leech, showed up with his wild demands: a staggering 13 million euro salary for Kaka, or else they'd entertain offers from Real Madrid. That was the final straw. Galliani knew Kaka didn't want to leave—not now, anyway. But if someone did slap a fat contract on the table and dangled that kind of money, who could blame the kid? Footballers had short careers, and this was Kaka's prime. And once this season ended, the Brazilian would enter the final year of his contract. By then, Milan would be lucky to fetch half of what he was truly worth. Galliani couldn't afford to let things drag out any longer. So, after weighing all the pros and cons, he made a decision: meet with Arthur Morgan, see what he had to say—and more importantly, see what number he had in mind. A number that might just convince AC Milan to cash in early... before the rest of the world realized they had a problem on their hands. And so, that's how the vice chairman of one of the most decorated clubs in Europe ended up sitting in a remote Zurich café, staring across the table at the cool-headed, sharp-witted manager of Leeds United.

Chapter 191: Probing Each Other

Comments (0)