After their initial conversation, excitement hummed beneath the surface as Ethan and Theodore Graves continued discussing the potential sale of Ridge Rovers FC.

A bold thought popped into Ethan's mind—half impulse, half strategy. If he would buy this club, he needed to understand more than just the business side. He needed to feel what this team was about, not from the sidelines but on the pitch itself.

“Theodore,” Ethan said, his tone thoughtful, catching the older man’s attention. “I have a request.”

Theodore raised an eyebrow, both intrigued and cautious. “What is it, Ethan?”

Ethan grinned, knowing the request was unconventional. “Since we’re planning to sit down for formal talks about the club, how about you join me at NovaTech’s grand launch tomorrow night? It’s on the rooftop of our headquarters.”

Theodore nodded, impressed by the invitation. “I’ve heard about that. I’ll be there.”

“Great,” Ethan replied, pulling out his phone. “Give me your contact info, and I’ll have my assistant send you the details.”

Theodore handed over his number with a glint of curiosity in his eyes. He was eager to learn more about NovaTech, but what really intrigued him was Ethan’s following words.

“Also,” Ethan leaned in, his voice lowering, “I have another request. I’d like to join the team’s training session today.”

Theodore blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “You want to train? With the team?”

Ethan shrugged, flashing a confident grin. “Yeah. I used to play football back in the day. It’s been a few years, but if I buy this club, I want to see things for myself—up close.”

Theodore’s eyes narrowed, still processing the request. “Even though they’re second division, these are professionals. You sure about that?”

“Absolutely,” Ethan replied, his grin widening. “I’d love to jump into a practice match if possible.”

Theodore studied him for a moment longer, a flicker of amusement crossing his face.

The idea of a young businessman like Ethan, who seemed more at home in boardrooms than locker rooms, playing football with professionals sounded absurd. But Theodore had to admit, the thought of watching Ethan give it a go was entertaining.

“Well,” Theodore chuckled, “you’re going to be the next owner, so I won’t stop you. But be warned, they won’t go easy on you.”

Ethan nodded, his expression serious. “That’s exactly what I’m counting on.”

As Theodore headed toward the coaching staff, Ethan stretched, feeling the energy pulsing through his veins. His body, enhanced by his newfound strength and agility, felt more responsive than ever.

Though it had been years since he last played, his body felt ready, itching to prove itself.

Coach Harris, a gruff, no-nonsense man who had seen his share of wealthy owners meddling with their clubs, looked up when Theodore approached.

The players were already warming up on the field, but Harris glanced at standing at the edge of the pitch.

“The kid is going to buy this club, and... he wants to train with the team,” Theodore said, barely holding back a smirk.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Coach Harris blinked. “Train? With professionals?”

Theodore nodded. “He wants to gauge the players himself. Thinks it’ll help with the sale.”

Harris sighed, glancing back at the players. Most of them were seasoned professionals, and he could tell by their body language they were less than thrilled with the idea of some young rich guy joining their session.

Over the years, Harris had seen more than his fair share of owners and their families trying to “play football” with the team, often leading to awkward sessions where the players were forced to hold back.

One player, Marcus—the team’s towering defender—muttered under his breath, “What’s this, another spoiled rich kid trying to play boss?”

Another player scoffed. “Probably. These owners always bring their kids in, thinking they can run the show. They never last on the field, though.”

“I don’t get it,” one of the players muttered. “What does some rich guy know about football?”

Marcus, the tall defender, scoffed. “It’ll be a laugh watching him try to keep up.”

The murmurs of discontent rippled through the squad. In their minds, Ethan was just another spoiled rich kid whose family probably wanted to buy the club for bragging rights.

They’d seen it happen before—wealthy owners or their sons demanding to be part of training, thinking money could purchase skill. Most players in the squad hated being bossed around by someone who hadn’t paid their dues on the pitch.

Ethan, aware of the tension, watched with an amused expression. He wasn’t bothered by their skepticism. If anything, it only fueled him further. Their disdain for him reminded him of the countless people who had doubted him when he first started NovaTech.

The coach approached, waving him over. “Alright, Ethan. Do you want to play? We’ll let you join the practice match. But don’t expect the lads to go easy on you. They don’t take kindly to outsiders.”

Ethan smiled, nodding. “I wouldn’t want them to. Let’s give it everything.”

Marcus, standing nearby, cracked his knuckles, his eyes narrowing on Ethan. “Hope you’re ready, kid,” he muttered to the nearest teammate. “We’ll see how long he lasts.”

Ethan heard the taunt, but he only grinned. His enhanced senses picked up every word, but instead of feeling intimidated, he felt more alive than ever. He wasn’t here to show off his money but to prove himself.

“I may not look like much,” Ethan said loud enough for the players to hear, “but I’ll decide who stays and who goes soon enough. So, show me what you’ve got.”

The players fell silent, their earlier doubts turning into determination. Watching from the sidelines, Theodore couldn’t help but smile at Ethan’s boldness. He knew the players had become too comfortable, too complacent. Ethan was precisely the kind of wake-up call they needed.

Coach Harris blew his whistle, gathering the players. “Alright, split into two teams. Red team—starters. White team—subs and youth squad. Ethan, you’ll play with the whites.”

As he stepped onto the pitch, a wave of nostalgia hit him. The smell of freshly cut grass, the soft hum of the wind, the anticipation of competition—it all rushed back in a flood of memories. He had missed this.

“It’s been a while,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Beside him, a young player overheard and turned toward Ethan nervously. “Sorry, sir. Did you say something?”

“What’s your name, and how old are you?” Ethan asked.

“Eric,” the young player replied, his voice respectful. “Sixteen this year.”

“Sixteen?” Ethan nodded, impressed. “Already training with the first team—no small feat.”

Ethan looked at Eric, realizing the kid was probably feeling the weight of the situation more than he was. He chuckled lightly. “You don’t have to call me sir, Eric. I’m only twenty myself.”

Eric blinked, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, it’s just that… Mr. Graves and Coach Harris mentioned you’re going to be the new owner.”

Ethan smiled, giving the kid a friendly pat on the back. “Don’t worry about it. Out here, we’re just players, alright? And by the way—training with the first team at sixteen? That’s impressive. You’ve got talent.”

Eric’s face lit up with a mixture of pride and nerves. “Thanks, Ethan. I’m just trying my best.”

Ethan nodded, lowering his voice so only Eric could hear. “You’ve made it this far, which is huge. But remember—this is your time to show what you’re made of. Don’t hold back for anyone, including me. Just play your game.”

Eric’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly, the tension easing as he absorbed Ethan’s words. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” Ethan replied with a smile. “Now, let’s give them a match they won’t forget.”