270. Vince Reaction To Forbidden Door

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April helped him gather his things while Nicole kept an eye out to make sure no one was around to see them slipping out together. It was still a secret, after all, their shared relationship. By the time they reached Sandro's apartment, everyone's energy had shifted again. The post match high was giving way to that warm, late night buzz, when all that mattered was good food, comfort, and the people you loved.

Sandro made the food call while April and Nicole scoured his movie shelf. It was a bit of their tradition whenever they had movie night, before Nicole had gone to the main roster and follow RAW schedule.

They'd argue over genre, tone, runtime. April always leaned toward action or horror, while Nicole pushed for something with a stronger story or, at the very least, clever dialogue.

"No rom com's," April said immediately, arms crossed as she scanned the cases. "Not tonight."

"Come on," Nicole teased, holding up Crazy Stupid Love. "It's got Ryan Gosling and Steve Carell."

"We just watched a man get claw slammed by a redwood tree of a human being. I need something with explosions or at least demons."

"Demons it is," Sandro called from the kitchen. "Food's on the way, place said thirty minutes."

Nicole finally picked a thriller while April approved the choice, and soon enough, the three of them were curled up on Sandro's couch.

He sat in the middle, wearing a soft hoodie and gym shorts, flanked on each side by April and Nicole each.

April sprawled out, feet in Sandro's lap, while Nicole leaned against his shoulder, her head nestled there comfortably. When the food arrived, they tore into it with the kind of hunger only reserved for post victory feasts. Greasy fingers, stolen fries, shared bites, teasing comments.

"Don't hog the drumsticks," April warned, her mouth full.

"You literally ate two already," Sandro shot back, laughing.

"Because I fought for them."

Nicole rolled her eyes. "You two are children."

"And yet you love us both," Sandro grinned, holding out a slice of pepperoni pizza to her.

They ate until their stomachs hurt, and somewhere between the second movie and the third refill of Coke, Sandro felt his eyes drooping. Not from exhaustion alone, but from contentment. Pure, full bellied, soul deep contentment.

Sandro slowly drifted off to sleep, the warmth of the blanket, the quiet hum of the TV, and the comforting presence of April and Nicole lulling him into a peaceful doze. The last thing he registered was the sound of laughter echoing softly between his two girlfriends, their friendly banter fading into a gentle murmur in the background.

April noticed it first as his breathing had changed, slow and even, his head tilted slightly to the side. She glanced over, a soft smile playing on her lips. "He's out," she whispered.

Nicole leaned back slightly to look, her head lifting from his shoulder. When she saw his relaxed expression, his body slack with sleep, her own features softened. "Yeah," she murmured with a quiet fondness. "He's really out."

They shared a look, something wordless but warm, something built from shared nights like this, from all the times they'd let themselves be more than what the world expected them to be.

Nicole leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to his cheek. April followed suit, brushing a soft smooch against the other cheek. Neither said a word. They didn't need to.

Quietly, they pulled away and stood, careful not to jostle him too much. April padded into the bedroom and came back with the big, fluffy blanket they always fought over during cold nights.

Together, they tucked it around him, then crawled back onto the couch, sandwiching him between them. April curled up on his right, her head on his shoulder now, while Nicole nestled into his left side, tucking herself under his arm.

There, wrapped in warmth and closeness, the three of them drifted off, the last remnants of their movie marathon still flickering across the screen. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment, quiet, real, and theirs.

Then morning came too quickly.

Across the country in Stamford, Connecticut, the atmosphere was much less peaceful.

Inside the glass walled office on the top floor of WWE Headquarters, Vince McMahon sat behind his oversized desk, a remote control in hand, the highlight reel from last night's FCW x TNA "Forbidden Door" Pay Per View still running on the television screen.

The footage showed Sandro Zhang holding up the FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship and TNA World Heavyweight Championship, as Kurt Angle with blood streak in his face, was standing beside him after shaking hand in respect with Sandro.

The door opened sharply as Stephanie McMahon entered, followed by her husband, Paul 'Triple H' Levesque, and her older brother Shane.

"You called for us, Dad?" Stephanie said, her tone professional but cautious.

Vince didn't look up immediately. He let the video finish, the cheers of the crowd echoing faintly from the tablet before he finally tapped on the to button on the remote and looked toward them. "Sit."

They did, exchanging quick glances. Vince's tone wasn't unusual, but the tension in his jaw was telling.

"Well?" he asked, steepling his fingers. "Tell me what you thought of last night."

Stephanie took the lead. She always did when it came to FCW. "It was a massive success," she said confidently. "The crossover brought international attention to FCW. We trended number one on Twitter for five hours straight. The YouTube clips from the pre show already have over 2 million views. And Sandro's becoming the double champ of FCW and TNA was getting talks everywhere."

Triple H nodded. "It was good for business. Look, I know it's unconventional, but that's exactly why it worked. It brought eyes to our developmental brand. We've been trying to give FCW a bigger platform, and this did just that."

Shane leaned forward slightly. "And from a business standpoint, the streaming numbers for the show were strong. TNA's presence helped, sure, but so did the card FCW built. They stood toe to toe with TNA's veterans and came out looking strong. That's long term investment paying off."

Vince's expression didn't change. He sat there, silent, absorbing their feedback.

Stephanie frowned slightly. "You're not convinced, Dad?"

Vince exhaled sharply. "The show was great," he admitted. "Better than I expected, truthfully. The crowd was hot. The matches delivered. The production was tight." He paused. "But I don't like it."

There was a long silence.

Triple H raised a brow. "Why?"

"Because we're giving TNA too much shine," Vince said flatly. "This isn't just about FCW gaining eyes. This is about TNA getting them too. And we don't need them getting any bigger than they already are. We've seen what happens when a competitor gains momentum. I lived through the Monday Night Wars. I know what it looks like."

"Dad," Shane said, leaning forward, "TNA isn't WCW. This isn't 1997."

Vince's eyes narrowed. "That's not the point. The point is we gave them a stage. We let them share ours. And while we helped FCW, we also helped TNA."

Stephanie shook her head. "But we helped ourselves more. We're not losing fans to them, we're giving them a taste of what FCW can be. That exposure builds brand loyalty and more fans for us."

Vince leaned back, the leather chair creaking. "I built this company beating back every territory that tried to carve a piece for themselves. And I did it by making sure we were the biggest, the loudest, the best. You don't keep that by inviting the wolves to your dinner table."

Triple H sighed. "That mentality is exactly why our numbers have been slowly declining. The world changed. The fans changed. They want variety. They want authenticity. Forbidden Door worked because it felt real. Organic. That's what fans care about now."

Vince's lips tightened. "So we let FCW become a platform for our competition?"

"No Dad," Stephanie said firmly. "We let FCW become a bridge. A new kind of model. We don't need to treat everyone like an enemy. We can lead by adapting and evolving."

There was silence again, heavier now. Vince looked at the television, his eyes hovering over the screen. The image of Sandro holding both of the title, framed by roaring fans, glared back at him.

"I still don't like it," he repeated. "But I can't argue with the numbers."

Shane nodded. "Then maybe it's time we start building strategies around things you don't like. Because clearly, the audience does."

That stung. Vince's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

Stephanie stood. "If we want FCW to grow, this is the way forward, Dad. We can't build the future by holding on to the past, new fans are coming and old fans are tired of the same thing."

She turned, and Triple H followed her lead, Shane trailing a step behind. Just before they exited, Vince spoke again.

"Don't let them overshadow us," he said quietly.

Triple H looked back. "They won't and never will," he promised. "Not if we keep building and adapting the right way."

Back in Orland, the sunlight streaming through the windows stirred Sandro from his slumber.

He blinked, bleary eyed, the weight of two familiar bodies pressing gently against him. April snored softly on his right, hair messy, arm slung lazily across his stomach. Nicole on his left had one leg tucked beneath her, her cheek still resting against his shoulder, lips slightly parted in sleep.

For a moment, Sandro didn't move. He just lay there, soaking it all in, the steady rise and fall of their breathing, the warmth of the blanket tangled around them, the afterglow of the best night of his life.

He smiled.

The night before had been chaos, in the ring, backstage, during the post match scramble. But this... this was peace.

Eventually, April stirred, yawning as she blinked open her eyes. "Morning, double champ," she said, voice husky with sleep.

Nicole shifted too, slowly sitting up with a stretch. "Did we pass out here?"

"You both did," Sandro murmured, still smiling. "I just joined you."

April smirked. "You were out first. We tucked you in, remember?"

Sandro chuckled. "That explains the blanket."

They stayed like that for a while, no rush, no expectations. Just the morning light and the quiet buzz of a Sunday with no obligations.

Nicole leaned in and kissed his cheek. "We should do this more often."

"Post victory sleep together?" Sandro said. "I'm down."

April nudged him playfully. "Only if there's pizza and fried chicken again."

Sandro spent the day with April and Nicole doing couple things together, and it felt like the world had finally slowed down for a moment just so they could breathe.

They started slow, just lounging in the living room, wrapped in blankets they refused to fold yet, surrounded by empty takeout containers and soda cans. The TV still buzzed with a low volume trailer loop from the last movie they'd forgotten to turn off, but none of them paid it any real attention.

April commandeered the bathroom first, calling dibs with a groggy laugh and a shout over her shoulder. Nicole followed soon after with a fresh change of clothes she and April kept in Sandro's closet, something he only noticed now, and it made him smile in that quiet, grateful kind of way.

Their presence had become part of his place in the subtlest ways, hair ties on the dresser, their favorite snacks in the kitchen, that hoodies the two of them always "borrowed" but never gave back.

They didn't talk much in the first couple hours. They didn't need to. Everything between them flowed easily, like they were all still dreaming together but awake. The silence wasn't empty, it was full, warm, easy. Comfortable.

By late morning, after they'd all cleaned up, Sandro made pancakes. April took over coffee duty. Nicole helped by taste testing everything in the fridge and pretending it was quality control.

"You're just stealing berries," April said, swatting Nicole's hand away from the bowl of toppings.

Nicole popped a raspberry into her mouth and winked. "Quality control, babe."

Sandro stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease. "Let her steal. It's Sunday. There are no rules."

April rolled her eyes but grinned as she leaned against the counter next to him. "Fine, but if she eats all the whipped cream again, I'm hiding your cereal next time."

Nicole gasped. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

They sat down to eat at the little kitchen table that was barely big enough for three, plates stacked with pancakes and bacon and fruit. It was messy and chaotic, Nicole got syrup in her hair, April spilled orange juice trying to pour with one hand, and Sandro dropped a fork under the table and hit his head retrieving it. But they laughed. They laughed a lot.

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Name: Alessandro Zhang

Age: 19 (2009)

Birthplace: Orlando, Florida USA

Brand: FCW

Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Style

Faction: Dragon Boom (Tag Team)

Championship History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, & 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion