The morning sun spilled across the quiet suburbs, its golden light softening the edges of the world as Adriano and Kate sat tucked in the backseat of a sleek black car rolling toward the airport.
The windows were tinted, not just to keep out the light, but to shield them from the world that had suddenly become louder, more watchful, more demanding.
Kate's parents stood at the driveway as the car idled. Her mother's smile was warm but tinged with worry, and her father gave Adriano a firm nod of approval. It wasn't disapproval they carried—just the natural hesitance that came from watching their daughter step into a new life.
Kate hugged them both tightly, lingering in her mom's arms. Her mother smoothed back her hair like she used to when Kate was a teenager on her way to a school audition.
"You call us when you land, okay?" her mom said, her voice quiet but firm.
"I will," Kate promised, voice muffled against her shoulder.
"And if anything—anything—feels off…"
"I'll be out of there faster than TMZ can spin it."
That got a laugh from her father. He hugged her, then turned to Adriano and shook his hand.
"Take care of her."
"I will," Adriano replied, steady and sure.
As they pulled away, Kate glanced out the back window, watching her parents shrink into the morning light until they were just figures at the edge of memory.
Adriano's phone buzzed, and he took the call with a nod toward Kate, mouthing, Mendes.
His agent's voice came sharp and efficient over the line. "Alright Champ, listen up. You'll land late afternoon, local time. Your car will be waiting. Go straight to the flat—they're keeping it low-key.
No photos or interview until tomorrow. Then meet Al Mubarak at the club office for a quick tour. Stadium unveiling is scheduled for Friday. Press conference on Saturday. Mansour's bringing in the big guns. Make sure you look like a billion euros."
Adriano gave a quiet chuckle. "Only a hundred and fifty million, remember?"
"In this market, that's a steal. Just don't crash the Lambo. I'm still jealous he just gifted you that beautiful car."
Adriano ended the call with a small exhale, rubbing the back of his neck as he
stared out the window. He dialed one more number—Khaldoon Al Mubarak.
"Adriano," came the calm, polished voice on the other end. "We're looking forward to welcoming you. Everything's ready. The club, the team, the city—it's all aligned. Sheikh Mansour wants this done properly. You'll see what we mean once you arrive."
"I appreciate it," Adriano replied. "Looking forward to getting started."
When he hung up, he leaned back, the leather seat cool beneath him. His shoulders relaxed, but his mind was racing.
Kate was sitting beside him, quiet, her gaze fixed outside as houses and trees blurred past. Her hand was in her lap, clenched around a travel pouch, knuckles pale.
"You okay?" Adriano asked, turning slightly to face her.
"I think so," she said softly. "It's just… I've never done something like this. Going somewhere completely unfamiliar. No friends. No work contacts. I don't even know what Manchester *feels* like."
Adriano reached out, gently untangling her fingers and lacing them with his. "You've stood in front of millions of people, Kate. Walked carpets with flashing cameras, dealt with fake smiles and backhanded compliments. Manchester's going to feel like peace compared to that."
She gave a half-laugh, eyes still distant. "Yeah, but this feels different. Less performance, more… real. That's scarier."
"You don't have to perform here. You just have to be."
She finally looked at him, her eyes searching his face. "And what if I mess it up?"
"You won't," he said simply. "Because I'm right there with you. Every step. You don't have to be perfect. You just have to be present."
Kate let out a long breath, some of the tension slipping from her shoulders. "That's why I'm going. Not because it's easy. But because you're there."
The flight was long, but it passed quickly, cushioned by the soft hum of the engines and the quiet privacy of first class. They sat side by side, half-reclined, a world away from the noise they had left behind. The seats were wide and plush, but it was the stillness between them that made the journey bearable.
Kate sipped from a glass of sparkling water, idly stirring the lemon slice with her straw. Adriano had a thick dossier on Manchester City in his lap, but it remained unopened.
"Do you think," she began, hesitating for a moment, "this whole leak thing… do you think it'll change Hollywood?"
He turned his head slowly. "It already has. People are scared now. Not just of being exposed—but of being seen. The real them. Without the polish."
"That's the thing," she said. "Hollywood doesn't want *real*. It wants shiny. It wants digestible. The moment you stop being that, it spits you out."
"Then maybe that's not the game worth playing anymore."
Kate tilted her head toward him. "So what, we quit the industry? Become farmers in the English countryside?"
He chuckled. "Not quite. But we build our own rhythm. Our own life. You pick the scripts you want. The ones that matter. Not the ones they tell you to want. I focus on football, give everything I have. We stop chasing noise."
She leaned her head against his shoulder, her voice low. "I used to think the noise meant I mattered. That I was *relevant*."
"You matter to me, Kate. With or without cameras. With or without premieres. You've always mattered."
There was a long pause. Then she whispered, "You're not just my anchor, you know. You're my launch pad."
He smiled and kissed her. "Then let's fly towards the stars, together."
Back in Manchester, beneath the cloudy July skies, a quiet but calculated storm was brewing.
At the Etihad stadium, the heart of Manchester City's operations, activity had begun at dawn. What began as murmurs in the hallways had exploded into coordinated chaos. PR teams huddled in tight circles around screens.
Social media specialists queued drafted posts with trembling fingers. Designers worked through the night on banners, digital animations, and the massive welcome display that would dominate the stadium's outer facade.
Everywhere, there was a feeling in the air—something more than just excitement. This wasn't a signing. It was a statement of power.
Inside the glass-paneled executive offices, a hushed conversation took place between club chairman Khaldoon Al Mubarak and senior staff.
"Sheikh Mansour wants it clean, sharp, and unforgettable," Al Mubarak said firmly. "We've waited for the right player. This isn't just business—it's legacy. Make sure the moment he arrives, he knows that."
Below, in the tunnels that connected the press room to the pitch, florists arranged blue and white hydrangeas beneath newly erected photo walls.
The stadium lights were tested in loops—blinking in synchronized pulses of sky blue—and a subtle shimmer was added to the turf under a special lighting rig to give it an almost cinematic sheen.
Then, around mid-morning, a single message buzzed through the tightest inner circle: He's confirmed his arrival tomorrow.
That was the green light.
Moments later, Manchester City's official website went live with a single headline:
"A New Era Begins. Adriano Riveiro Joins Manchester City – €150M Record Deal."
Beneath it, a sharp black-and-white photo of Adriano in profile. Serious, focused, his name emblazoned across the image like a campaign slogan. The tagline beneath read: "From Málaga to Manchester. From Promise to Power."
Social media detonated instantly.
Sky Sports Breaking News. BBC Sport Alert. ESPN Global.
Every feed blinked with the same words, shouted in different languages:
With an astronomical amount of €150 million. Adriano has officially become a Man City player.
In just minutes, hashtags like #WelcomeAdriano, #MCFCDynasty, and #TheNewKingofManchester trended worldwide.
Talk show panels convened within the hour.
"He REFUSED Real Madrid," barked stunned Sky Sports host Carragher . "Let that sink in. Turned down 'Los Blancos' for Pellegrini's Manchester City. That's not just ambition. That's belief."
"He's just 18, and already the most expensive player in football history," Gary Linekaradded, visibly skeptical. "But here's the question—will that price tag be his crown, or his shackles?"
Some pundits praised the move as visionary.
"Adriano is pure footballing intelligence," said Alan Shearer on BBC's Match of the Day. "He reads the game like a veteran, but he has the touch and tempo of a street baller. This is the guy who could change the face of English football."
Others weren't so sure.
"He's coming from La Liga. Let's see how he fares when he's getting kicked in the shins at Turf Moor, with sleet in his eyes," said Rio Ferdinand's grizzled voice on TalkSport. "The Premier League's not Spain. Here, finesse alone won't save you."
Meanwhile, the fans added fuel to the fire.
City supporters flooded Twitter:
"This is it. This is the moment. De Bruyne, Aguero, AND Adriano? Inject it into my veins!"
"Sheikh Mansour just dropped the mic on world football."
"I'm naming my firstborn Adriano. Don't care if it's a girl."
Elsewhere, rivals weren't so enthusiastic:
"150M? And you lot laughed at us for spending millions on a keeper?"
"Enjoy watching him cry when he gets two-footed by a Newcastle defender."
Football forums went into overdrive. Reddit threads piled thousands of comments in minutes. YouTube creators rushed to upload reaction videos. Even casual sports fans paused to take in the moment. It wasn't just about football—it was about spectacle.
But beyond the noise, beyond the headlines and hype, in a private plane sslicing through the clouds of Manchester and landing in a private terminal, Adriano Riveiro remained calm.
His phone buzzed constantly—notifications popping up with headlines, mentions, messages—but he ignored most of them. The moment was bigger than any tweet.
Kate leaned over and showed him one article.
"'Adriano Turns Down Madrid – City Steal the Future of Football'," she read aloud, eyes wide. "They're not holding back."
He gave a small smile, but his eyes remained thoughtful. "They never do. Today I'm a genius. Tomorrow I miss a pass, and I'm a fraud."
"You're neither," she said, folding the tablet. "You're just a guy who loves football. And you'll show them why you are the best." She gave him a gentle hug .
For now, Adriano looked out at the gray skyline of a city that was about to become his home, the stadium just visible in the distance.
Kate glanced over, touching his knee. "Ready for the madness?"
He turned to her, a calm fire in his eyes. "Let them talk. I didn't come here to survive the Premier League. I came to conquer it."
And somewhere in Manchester, the Etihad Stadium waited with open arms.
The private terminal at Manchester Airport buzzed with quiet efficiency. The rain had paused, but the air was heavy with mist—a grey welcome that seemed almost poetic for the city.
As the jet door hissed open, Adriano stepped out first, his sharp black coat catching the chill in the air, followed closely by Kate, wrapped in a thick cream scarf and black sunglasses despite the overcast skies.
Waiting at the base of the stairs, surrounded by a few suited staff members and a sleek convoy of dark vehicles, was Khaldoon Al Mubarak.
"Adriano," he said with a broad smile, extending his hand warmly. "Welcome to Manchester."
Adriano shook his hand firmly, a faint smile on his face. "Pleasure to finally be here."
Al Mubarak then turned to Kate. "And you must be Miss Kate Upton. It's an honor. Welcome."
Kate took his hand, surprised by the genuine politeness in his tone. "Thank you. It's surreal."
As they walked toward the car, flanked by staff carrying their luggage, Al Mubarak leaned in slightly toward Adriano. "The Sheikh wanted to make sure everything feels like home, right away. He'd even be here if he wasn't busy, but he will be present for the ceremony.
He personally selected a few homes across Hale, Alderley Edge, the city center and orher areas. All you need to do is pick one—we'll handle the rest."
Adriano raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Kate with a grin. "Mind if she picks?"
He handed the sleek digital tablet to Kate like it was a menu at a luxury restaurant.
Her eyes widened as she scrolled. "Wait… These are actual mansions. Adriano, some of these have indoor pools and private cinemas."
"You deserve it, and both of us will be staying there. " he said with a shrug.
Kate laughed, leaned up on her toes, and kissed his cheek. "I'll find us the perfect one."
Al Mubarak chuckled. "If she's also staying here, we'll have the staff bring anything she needs as well."
Adriano nodded, his voice warm. "She'll be here for now, but she'll have to head back to L.A. soon—shooting starts in a few weeks. But she'll be back. This'll be our home ."
The convoy began moving toward the city, and inside the plush interior of the lead car, conversation turned to football.
"We've begun reshaping the squad," Al Mubarak said, adjusting his cufflink. "Exactly like you asked. You'll find the locker room much younger now."
Adriano nodded, already mentally picturing the setup. "I saw the confirmation this morning. Kane instead of Džeko… That's a bold one for basically giving away Dzeko for free. Harry Kane and £10 million pounds for him might sound expensive, but you'll see the results. "
"A controversial trade definitely, Dzeko was our star poayer." Al Mubarak admitted. "But it's necessary. The board trusts your vision. We want to play the way you do—fast, intelligent, lethal."
"They'll come around," Adriano said calmly. "Once Kane starts scoring."
Al Mubarak smirked. "We've also cleared out the older key players along with some regular ones. Nasri, Fernando, Bony, Milner, Sagna—they've all been transferred. The midfield will run through De Bruyne and Silva. We've made him the center of the new system."
"Smart," Adriano nodded. "He's ready. I've played against him. He sees the game two moves ahead."
They pulled up near the Etihad for a quick private tour before the official announcement the next day. The stadium had been transformed. Huge banners of Adriano in City blue hung everywhere. Giant LED screens looped a single message: "A New Era Begins."
Kate stared at the spectacle, momentarily stunned. "I've seen many welcoming, but this takes the cake. You are a hero even before started! "
Adriano turned to her and smiled. "It is quite overwhelming. It's not just welcoming ceremony. It's a declaration."
That night, tucked away in the penthouse suite of a hotel overlooking the city skyline, Kate lay on the couch, legs draped over Adriano's lap as she scrolled through the mansion options again.
"This one has a huge yard and surrounding area, wine cellar, a livingroom with fireplace, pool, garden patio, and a music room. Think we could turn it into a home studio for me?"
Adriano leaned over to see. "Hmm, looks nice. Pick it if it's to your liking."
She smiled and locked the tablet. "Welcome to our new life, babe."
He kissed her forehead softly. "To new beginnings."
Adriano sent the confirmation to Al Mubarak, and he told him they can move there the next day after he sends the paperwork. Adriano and Kate fell asleep in their hotel room embracing each other that night , dreaming about their new beginnings.
Manchester's skies wore a silver hue that afternoon, the clouds drifting lazily across the horizon like slow-moving waves. A faint mist hung in the air, and the damp scent of spring clung to the breeze. Inside the towering mansion nestled in one of the city's most exclusive neighborhoods, laughter echoed through its spacious halls and polished marble floors.
The house itself was a marvel—sprawling yet tasteful, with marble floors, sweeping staircases, and full-length windows that bathed each room in natural light. But despite all the grandeur, it was still missing something. It didn't feel like a home yet.
That's what today was for. After getting some new decorations and living essentials delivered, the couple was busy rearranging things to their liking.
Adriano was barefoot, wearing a plain black T-shirt and sweatpants, pulling a leather armchair a few inches to the left with a look of quiet concentration. "How's that?" he called out, glancing toward the far end of the living room.
Kate stood with her arms folded, one foot tucked behind the other, eyeing the arrangement of the furniture. She was dressed casually—denim shorts and a white tank top, her hair tied in a messy bun. A thin smudge of dust painted her cheek, evidence of their full-day dive into home-making.
"A little to the left," she called out, squinting one eye as if trying to visualize the perfect arrangement.
"This is the left," Adriano groaned with a smirk. "Your left or my left?"
"My left, dummy," she laughed, motioning him to shift again.
He adjusted the couch, exhaling. "There. If it moves one more inch, it's going through the wall."
Kate giggled, brushing a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "You're the best footballer in England, yet a couch defeats you?"
He gave her a playful glare. "That couch weighs more than some of the players Man City was about to sell."
She grinned and stepped back to admire the new arrangement. The living room now had a warm, inviting flow. There was a large fireplace on the far wall, and Kate was already filling the mantle with framed photos of them—smiling together in Florida , sun-kissed skin in the beach, a goofy snapshot from L.A. There were also some photos from their first date and the last trip to Disneyland.
They were frozen moments of laughter and intimacy, now standing proudly in their new home.
Kate carefully unwrapped a velvet-lined box and lifted out one of Adriano's trophies, the La Liga player of the season award. A sleek designed golden stand with a football carved in it, engraved with his name when he led Malaga to a historical season.
She placed it gently on a glass shelf beside his other accolades—awards, medals, and honorary plaques.
"You really are something else, you know that?" she said softly, not turning around.
Adriano watched her from behind, seeing the tenderness in her actions. "You have seen the matches. You know I wouldn't have made it here without everyone's support, including yours."
Kate smiled to herself, her fingers lingering a second longer on the trophy before turning to face him. "It kind of feels like we're newly married, doesn't it? Decorating our new home like this."
He laughed. "I hadn't thought about it, but... yeah. It kinda does."
They spent the next few hours settling in. Adriano assembled the dining table while Kate set up the bookshelf with her favorite novels and travel keepsakes. A small crystal elephant from India sat beside a hand-carved wooden turtle from the Maldives. Each piece was a story, a memory etched in time.
The sun had dipped below the horizon when they finally made their way to the kitchen. They worked side by side, like they had so many nights before in smaller apartments, in hotel suites, in Airbnbs. Tonight was different. Tonight, the kitchen was theirs.
Adriano chopped vegetables with surprising precision while Kate sautéed chicken in a white wine sauce. Aromas filled the room—garlic, rosemary, butter. They toasted with a bottle of aged red wine, laughing over old memories, the way she once locked her and her friends out of their own rental in Tuscany or the time Adriano got food poisoning right before an important match.
Dinner was simple but perfect. Candlelight flickered as they sat across from each other at their newly set table, sipping wine and trading gentle smiles. There was a serenity in the air, something both comforting and fleeting.
Kate leaned back in her chair, looking around the space they had created together. "I could get used to this," she murmured.
Adriano's eyes softened. "Then stay here with me."
She gave him a wistful smile. "You know I can't dear. Not yet at least."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy, just real. They both knew her time in Manchester was limited—for now. But that didn't mean the moments they shared had to be.
After they cleaned up, Adriano flopped onto the bed in the master suite, the soft mattress welcoming him like a cloud. He stared at the ceiling, still amazed this place belonged to him now—to them.
"Don't move, I've prepared a surprise for you" Kate said with a mischievous lilt to her voice.
He turned his head. "What are you up to now?"
" nobody likes spoilers babe." She grinned and walked out of the room without answering further.
He waited, curiosity buzzing in his chest. A few minutes passed. He heard a rustle, the soft click of a door. Then, his breath caught in his throat.
Kate stood in the doorway, framed by the soft light spilling in from the hall. She was wearing a deep red lingerie set from Victoria's Secret, the fabric hugging her curves perfectly. Her hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her eyes shimmered with playfulness and desire.
"Do you like it, honey?" she purred, one hand on her hip. "I thought red might be your color."
Adriano sat up slowly, his pulse quickening. "You're gorgeous, babe," he said, voice low, almost reverent.
She laughed softly, walking toward him with deliberate grace. "I wanted to thank you... for everything. And leave my mark in our new house."
Adriano pulled her gently into his lap, kissing her deeply. "You already left your mark," he whispered. "Right here." He pressed her hand over his heart.
Kate's smile melted into something more tender, more vulnerable. But it was quickly replaced by fire as his hands explored the curve of her back, the smoothness of her thighs. She leaned into him, her breath warm against his ear.
"I'm yours tonight," she whispered. "Just yours."
What followed was slow, intense, and filled with the kind of passion that only two souls deeply familiar with each other could share. Their bodies moved together as if guided by instinct, a rhythm born of longing and love. The bedroom walls echoed with their gasps and laughter, muffled moans and whispered promises.
In that bed, in that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There were no contracts, no transfers, no upcoming matches or future flights. Only the present. Only them.
Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, the city lights casting faint golden patterns on the walls. Kate rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
"I don't want to go," she said quietly.
"You don't have to," he replied, brushing a thumb along her bare shoulder.
She smiled but didn't answer. Instead, she closed her eyes, content to simply be. Adriano wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as the night deepened, as if by doing so, he could somehow slow time.
Tomorrow would come with its own demands and decisions when he stood there in the Etihad stadium for his presentation. But tonight, in this house they had made a home, they were just two people in love—beginning something new.
The first light of dawn broke through the tall windows of the mansion, casting a soft, golden glow over the bedroom. The air was still, peaceful—until a slow, content sigh escaped Adriano's lips.
He laid still for a moment, staring at the ceiling with a quiet smile, the memories of the night before washing over him in warm waves. It wasn't just about the intimacy—it was about the bond. The way Kate had looked at him. The way it had all felt right.
He turned his head, eyes settling on her figure. Kate was sprawled out beside him, tangled in the white sheets, her bare back rising and falling with her slow breathing. Her blonde curls were a tousled mess across the pillow, but to Adriano, she had never looked more beautiful.
He reached out and gently traced the curve of her shoulder with his fingers, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on her skin.
Kate stirred slightly, stretching lazily before slowly opening her eyes with a small yawn. When she saw him smiling at her, her lips curled into a grin of her own.
"Good morning, dear, what time is it? " she murmured, her voice still husky from sleep.
Adriano brushed her hair behind her ear. "Morning babe. It's about eight, I think."
Her eyes widened in alarm, and she sat up suddenly, clutching the sheet to her chest. "Then you need to get up! It's your presentation day!"
Adriano chuckled. "I know, I know."
She stood up and began gathering her clothes, pausing at the bathroom doorway to shoot him a sly glance over her shoulder. "If you can keep your hands to yourself, mister… you're welcome to join me."
Adriano grinned, threw off the covers, and followed her in without a second thought.
***
An hour later, they sat at the breakfast table, fresh and dressed, enjoying a light meal. Adriano's tailored black suit hung crisply on his athletic frame, but his signature calm demeanor was intact, even with the massive event ahead. Kate adjusted his clothes and tie, then nodded with a smile, " You look perfect."
She wore a sleek navy dress, a wide hat and sunglasses, her beauty effortless yet sharp—like a star playing the part of a queen.
As they finished eating, Adriano pulled out his phone and sent a message to his parents. He included the link to the live stream of the ceremony, letting them know he had arrived safely and asking when they would be flying in.
Outside, the hum of a waiting black Rolls-Royce grew louder.
"Ready?" Kate asked as they stood up.
"As I'll ever be."
The ride to the Etihad was smooth, but the energy in the air was impossible to ignore. As they passed through the city, Adriano noticed fans lining the sidewalks, waving Manchester City scarves and holding homemade signs. Some shouted his name; others sang club chants with passionate intensity. A few even started pounding on the windows with joy when they spotted him.
Kate glanced out the window, her brows raised in awe. "It's like you're royalty or something."
Adriano let out a low laugh, rolling down the window slightly and waving. The crowd erupted, cheering louder, waving flags, and chanting his name. The sight of hundreds of fans in the brand-new RIVEIRO 10 jerseys was surreal. Apparently, they had sold out within hours of the official announcement.
By the time the car pulled up at the stadium gates, the scene was electric. Rows of fans filled the designated areas near the entrance, with TV crews and photographers setting up behind barriers.
Massive banners reading "WELCOME ADRIANO" , " IT'S OUR ERA", and "THE FUTURE IS HERE" hung high above the entrance, fluttering in the summer breeze.
Adriano stepped out, the roar from the crowd growing deafening. He smiled, gave a polite wave, and nodded at a few fans reaching out for handshakes. Kate followed behind, slipping on her sunglasses again and giving him a wink. She understood the spotlight today was his, and she was happy to watch him shine from a distance.
"Go on," she whispered to him. "This is your moment."
She chose to head to the VIP stands, avoiding too much attention that might come from being too close during the presentation. The world still hadn't fully connected the dots between her and Adriano in full—not with the chaos currently engulfing Hollywood.She didn't want to add extra burden on him right now.
Inside, the corridors of the stadium buzzed with club executives and staff moving about with military precision. Everything was planned down to the second. Adriano was led to the changing room, where a kit was laid out for him: Manchester City's new season home shirt, the iconic sky blue, but with a twist.
On the back was his name—ADRIANO—in bold white letters. The number 10 was below it, and on top of the 'i' in his name, a small, embroidered golden crown had been added, just as a final touch.
He pulled it over his head and looked into the mirror. He barely recognized himself.
Then, he stepped out.
Waiting near the tunnel was none other than Sheikh Mansour himself, flanked by chairman Khaldoon Al Mubarak and several members of the City board. The Sheikh greeted him with a warm smile and an outstretched hand.
"Are you ready Adriano? This is your moment." he asked, voice calm but with a spark of pride.
Adriano nodded, meeting his gaze. "I am. Let's start our journey towards greatness. "
They walked ahead of him out into the daylight, where the buzz of the stadium crescendoed into thunderous cheers. The Etihad was almost full—over fifty thousand fans had turned up for the event, and millions more were watching worldwide.
Al Mubarak stepped forward first, mic in hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "Today marks a new chapter in Manchester City's history. You've seen the rumors. You've read the headlines. But now, we make it official."
He paused, gesturing toward the tunnel. "The future is here. The heir to our ambition has arrived. No longer will our club be overshadowed by the other giants. And we have chosen the perfect man to make that dream possible.
Today, Manchester City starts their mission to reach the top of Europe! We are coming for the crown! " The fans went wild with cheers of jubilation as he captured their feelings perfectly.
Then Sheikh Mansour stepped forward, his voice echoing across the stadium speakers. "Now we officially welcome the greatest young talent in the world right now, The player who will lead us to the new era—and the future of Manchester City… Adriano Riveiro from Portugal!"
The moment those words left his mouth, the crowd exploded.
Fans jumped out of their seats, screaming, waving flags, holding scarves above their heads. Drums beat in the background, chants rang out, and flares were lit in the corners of the stadium.
It was the kind of reception usually reserved for legends. For champions. Not even a Champions League final could match the pure emotion pouring out of those stands.
Adriano took a deep breath and stepped out onto the podium.
The moment he appeared, the noise reached a new peak. He smiled, wide and full of confidence, walking forward with ease as the cameras snapped endlessly. He waved to the crowd, his hands raised in appreciation, then clapped for them in return, acknowledging their love.
As he reached the center, he shook hands with Sheikh Mansour and Al Mubarak. The three of them held up the jersey together for the cameras—ADRIANO 10, the crown on full display. The photographers flashed like fireworks, preserving the moment forever.
From the VIP stand, Kate watched it all unfold with a swelling heart. Her hands clasped together as she whispered to herself, "That's my man."
Adriano turned once more toward the fans and raised his arms, soaking in the roar.
The new king of Manchester had arrived.