Building Something

The chairman's office sat perched at the top of Lecce's administrative wing. Modest, like everything else about the club. No marble floors or golden crests, no flashy lighting or pretentious artwork. Just clean lines, soft-colored walls, a few framed jerseys, and the hum of a building that knew exactly who it was and what it had to offer.

But the view, that was something else.

Through a long, narrow window behind the chairman's desk, you could see the entire training complex laid out like a chessboard. Two pitches. A fitness annex. And beyond them, the city stretching to meet the sea.

Alex Walker walked in still sweating from late-afternoon drills, his Lecce tracksuit jacket slung over his shoulder, hair damp, body sore, but his mind sharp. There was a tightness in his chest he hadn't fully shaken since the message buzzed on his phone.