Football Dynasty-Chapter 72: Heaven or Hell

"Richard, the FA and Premier League have lifted the freeze on your shares and your license. However, I want to advise you to be careful regarding your status as an agent. City has already been hit hard enough; we don't want any more complications," Gordon Barry, the club's barrister, warned him.

"Don't worry, I'll give up my agent's license immediately."

"Good, that's a step in the right direction," Gordon replied with a relieved pause, before adding, "Welcome back. I have an expectation for you."

"Thank you, Gordon."

City's double relegation set a record, but it was one that invited mockery and scorn for a club that had barely made the headlines in recent years.

By the time Richard arrived at Maine Road, two weeks had already passed since the season ended, meaning the players were now on their off-season break. As he drove toward the training ground, he couldn't help but notice a small crowd gathered outside, visible through the car window.

Banners were held high, featuring bold, handwritten signs like "Lee Out!", "We Deserve Better!", "Out! Out! Out!", and "When will he jump from the Kippax?".

There was no shouting, no chanting—just a haunting silence. The fans stood motionless, their banners speaking volumes in the stillness. The quiet only amplified the tense, oppressive atmosphere. The message was clear: the fans had had enough.

Manchester City had been besieged by rumors of sales and takeovers, legal battles over ownership, and ongoing talk of potential dissolution for years. Media exaggerations only intensified the fans' unease.

The club had fallen into its darkest period, and without the right intervention, it wasn't just relegation to the fourth tier they were facing—they might not even survive as a professional football team.

From the outside, or from the perspective of a fan, City's future seemed bleak. It was a club that held little appeal for players or coaches. No manager or staff member wanted to board what appeared to be a sinking ship.

Vrooom~

The roar of the Porsche engine echoed, growing louder as it sped closer, gradually slowing as it neared the crowd of fans. As it approached the gates of Maine Road, they slowly creaked open, revealing the car's arrival.

Apparently, Richard had informed the senior club secretary, Miss Heysen, in advance. After all, she could be considered his informant, the one who kept him informed during Swales and Lee's tenure.

As the guard opened the gates for him, without question, Richard slammed on the gas, making the Porsche engine roar back to life.

"Who is that?"

"A new player? Did we sign someone new?"

The question hung in the air as more fans turned to look, wondering if this was a sign that the club was starting to turn things around.

After parking the car, Richard opened the door and was greeted by a familiar figure. He extended his hand and embraced the older, plump woman.

"Welcome back, Richard. It must've been a tough year for you," she said softly, her tone tinged with sadness.

She couldn't help but think about how this young man, once full of hope, had fought from the very bottom to help Manchester City climb. But then, he was ostracized, pushed out, endured the pressure from the authorities, and forced to face all the challenges that followed.

"Long time no see, Miss Heysen. I've missed you a lot."

She had been the one to guide him when he first arrived at Maine Road. Back then, Swales was still in charge, and his share in the club was only a single one.

"Hahaha, you're still the same, Richard. But it's so good to see you looking well," she said, taking him in from head to toe with a warm smile.

They walked together toward the building when another familiar figure crossed their path.

"Richard?! My God, it's really you? Are you finally making your comeback here?"

The voice belonged to an older, portly man with graying hair. He squinted through the car window, his eyes widening in disbelief.

It was Jimmy Rouse, City's youth dressing room caretaker. Richard had known him well when he was still a youth coach for City, back when they reached the FA Youth Cup in 1986. As a part-timer, Richard spent more time with Rouse than he did with people like Tony Book, Glyn Pardoe, and John Collins, who were busy with the team.

"Always good to see you, Rouse. Still as blunt as ever."

"Hahaha, that's good to hear! But wait a minute... you're here... does this mean...?"

Rouse's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, his wrinkles deepening in astonishment.

"That's right. I'm back."

"Good Lord! I heard you were dealing with the FA... What case is this again? Whatever, oh heavens!"

"Alright, alright, calm down, Rouse. Let's talk in my new office."

"..."

Both Miss Heysen and Rouse exchanged surprised glances before bursting into laughter. "Hahaha, that's right! Finally, someone's forcing Lee to take a break—guess miracles do happen!"

Richard only smiled, not giving any further explanation. If they knew the truth, he was soon to be the club's 100% owner...

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While Richard was busy inside Maine Road, another shareholder of Manchester City was arriving at the stadium.

When he noticed the crowd of fans flocking near the entrance, he cursed his bad luck. He quickly turned the car around and stopped at the intersection.

Leaning back in his seat, Lee closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. His head was spinning. After a moment, he reached for his phone and dialed the number for his assistant, who was currently at the consortium office.

"Hello, boss?" the assistant answered promptly.

"How is it going?" Lee asked, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Have you found any potential investors willing to buy my shares yet?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, the hesitation clear. "B-boss, this..." The assistant stammered, clearly uneasy.

"What? What do you mean you haven't found anyone yet?!" Lee's voice grew sharp, frustration creeping in. "I gave you two days—just two! You're running out of time here."

"Boss, it's not that..." The assistant cut in, interrupting him.

Lee was taken aback, his frustration quickly turning into confusion. "Then what exactly is the problem?" he snapped.

"Well... boss, we just received a fax. It's from Manchester City. They're saying that if we try to sell our shares to anyone other than the current shareholders, they'll consider taking legal action. Apparently, we're violating the terms of a Deed of Covenant signed back in 1964."

It states: 'In the event of a director's death or his otherwise leaving the board, the shares should remain with the club.'

Lee sat in stunned silence for a moment. "Wait... doesn't the FA and Premier League have a waiver for this?"

Back in 1992, when he bought Swales' shares, the FA and Premier League had granted approval to bypass the covenant, effectively allowing it to be disregarded with their official consent. However, since his shareholding was still smaller than Richard's, it meant he couldn't simply override it.

"The problem is... in the fax, there's also a signature from the heads of the FA and Premier League..." his assistant added, his voice tinged with concern.

Lee sat in silence for a few moments, trying to process the information. "You wait. I need you to find out what actually happened."

Back in 1992, when he purchased Swales' shares, the FA and Premier League had granted approval to bypass the covenant, effectively allowing it to be disregarded with their consent. But since his shareholding was still 5% smaller than Richard's, he couldn't simply demolish it.

He quickly put his phone away, but just before he could hit the gas, he was shocked to see a crowd of people already peering into his car, holding banners or whatever they could get their hands on.

"Hey, it's him! This is Francis Lee's car!!!"

"Shit, he must've purposely avoided coming here because of us... and now he's hiding!"

"Hey! You have to respond!"

The chaos grew louder, and Lee's heart skipped a beat.

"FUCK!"

"FUCK?! YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!! DID YOU JUST SAY FUCK TO US??!! HEY, THIS WANKER JUST TOLD US TO FUCK OFF!! THIS GUY'S A REAL MOTHERFUCKER!!!"

"ASSHOLE, GET DOWN HERE!!!"

'Ah shit, I should've switched cars before coming here!'

He hadn't realized they'd be able to find him here, and especially not that he'd curse so impulsively. He didn't even realize the car wasn't soundproof!!!

He forced a smile and waved, attempting to calm the crowd, but there were too many people, and the situation was quickly spiraling out of control.

He was trapped.

Just as he was trying to figure out how to handle the fans, he saw one guy move toward the side of the road and pick up a large rock.

Lee was rooted to the spot, completely stunned. With no time to think, he quickly started the engine and cautiously began to move the car, desperate to escape. But could he really get away without causing more chaos? Was it even possible?

As he tried to drive off, he accidentally knocked into an elderly fan, sending him crashing to the ground.

"Oi! My back!"

"Hey, he hit someone! Stop, stop!"

"HEY!!"

Seeking refuge, he drove straight to the Lee Consortium office, his last safe haven. Before locking himself inside the car, he quickly grabbed his phone and dialed Kelly and Wiseman.

He tried Kelly first. No answer. He called Wiseman next. Busy. Frustrated, he then tried Parry, the chief of the Premier League. Again, nothing. All the lines were busy.

He cursed under his breath before taking a deep breath to calm himself. He wiped his face, trying to compose himself, then slowly got out of the car, pretending nothing had happened.

Time passed quickly, and soon it was evening. Manchester City matter had been pushed to the back of his mind. Yet, at that moment, his assistant walked in, his face stricken with panic.

"Boss, a large crowd has gathered outside. They're claiming that you hit someone on your way here!"

Hearing that, Lee's eyes widened in shock as he sat up straight. When did he hit someone? Wait...

The events from earlier that morning instantly replayed in his mind. His face went pale, and his breathing quickened.

"Call the lawyer. Quick, quick! Call the lawyer, now!"

An unexpected disturbance occurred, and fearing it could escalate to a police matter, Lee decided to have his corporate lawyer speak with the protesters. He was willing to negotiate, whether it meant compensation or whatever it took to calm the situation down.

The night dragged on, and Lee sat in his office, anxiously waiting for an update.

When the lawyer finally returned, he said, "Mr. Lee, they told me you rejected them when they asked about your plans for the upcoming season. They have no other demands."

Lee was taken aback. "Only that? Are you sure? They just want to know about the plans for next season? Nothing else?"

The lawyer looked puzzled. "Nothing. They didn't mention anything other than the club."

Lee listened carefully, still uncertain.

"The security's already in place, and only their representatives will be attending. It's safe. If you want to avoid further disturbances, it's better to meet with them."

Lee stood up quickly. "Then get them here—now!"

The representative was a middle-aged man, probably in his late forties, with a rugged, working-class look. His face was weathered, a few wrinkles around the eyes from years of hard work and long days.

Lee thought this would be easy, but what he heard next shocked him the most.

"We don't want to hear your plans. What we want is for you to sell all your share. If you don't, the incident this morning will be reported to the police as a hit-and-run."

Everyone's eyes widened, especially his lawyer. 'Did he really change his statement that quickly?'

His face went solemn. "Sir, do you realize that what you're doing is extortion? We could report you to the police."

The man, however, was unphased. "Go ahead. Report me. The elder you hit this morning is my uncle. We have plenty of witnesses who saw how Mr. Francis Lee ran into him. Let's see who gets locked up first—the hit-and-run case or this baseless extortion claim."

He paused for a moment before raising his hand. "Am I asking for money or anything else? All I want is for you to take responsibility for what you've done to Manchester City!"

Everyone was speechless.

"I—"

"That's it," the man interrupted, already standing. "We're giving you 24 hours to sell your shares, to whoever it may be. If not, be prepared to go to jail!" He then strode off confidently.

"..."

Lee slumped into his chair. Originally, he had planned to transfer his shares to his son, but now everything was spiraling out of control. He looked at his lawyer. "I guess I don't have a choice right now, do I?"

The next day, he gave a statement: "I'm not ashamed to admit that I have suffered for some time under the immense pressure I have imposed upon myself. Since my appointment, this pressure has completely overwhelmed me to the point where I can no longer function in the job the way I would like to. As this situation is affecting my wellbeing, I have asked Richard Maddox to relieve me of my obligation to manage the club."

After giving the statement, Lee returned to his office to relax both his body and mind.

To be honest, stepping down as City chairman was somewhat of a relief—though it also meant facing the reality of selling his shares below market value.

He sighed deeply, picked up his coffee and newspaper, and started flipping through the pages.

It was a habit—being the chairman of a football club naturally meant skipping over the usual gossip and trivial news, jumping straight to page nine, where the football section was.

"Pfffttt!"

Suddenly, he spat out his coffee.

On the front page of the day's paper was a photo of Richard Maddox standing with Maine Road in the background. That wasn't the issue—what really caught his eye was the headline and the person standing next to him.

[...City's new owner, Richard Maddox, criticized the driver who was speeding in front of Maine Road at 7 AM on Wednesday, calling them 'irresponsible' and a 'danger to society.' He urged the police to take more action in monitoring road users. Maddox also advised pedestrians to be more cautious while walking, given the increasing number of reckless drivers on the road...]

In the picture, Richard stood there, shaking hands with the very person who had threatened him the day before. How could they suddenly be posing for photos together just one day later?

Did this mean...?

"I..."

Lee's vision darkened, and he collapsed backwards.

Just then, the assistant knocked and opened the door for a routine report. But when he saw Lee slumped in his chair, unconscious, he panicked. "Help! President has fainted!"

Richard Maddox → 2,060 shares (100%) → £8,009,880