God Of football

Chapter 333 333: Sharks Circling

Izan stepped off the private terminal at Valencia Airport, the air thick with humidity, carrying the weight of the storm waiting for him outside.

Miranda had moved swiftly, making sure his arrival was under wraps—no flight details leaked, no media tipped off.

But even as he walked toward the waiting car, he sensed it.

Something was off.

Miranda's phone buzzed in her hand. She checked it and let out a sharp sigh. "They know."

Izan's jaw tightened. He had been hoping for a quiet arrival, a chance to slip back into the city unnoticed. But it was impossible now.

"How?" he asked, glancing at her.

She was already scrolling through messages. "No idea. Maybe airport staff, maybe someone at the airline. But the press is outside. Cameras, mics, the whole circus."

Izan exhaled through his nose. Of course. This wasn't just a football story anymore.

A crisis. And his return to Valencia was another piece of the puzzle for journalists to pick apart.

Miranda gave him a look. "I can get you out through another exit, but it won't be easy."

Izan nodded. "Let's just get home."

...…..

The airport's underground exit was clear—until the final turn.

Through the tinted car window, Izan saw them. Reporters lined outside, cameras already flashing, microphones held out like weapons.

The moment the car slowed down, they surged forward.

"Izan! Have you spoken to the club?"

"Are Valencia selling you?"

"Do you feel betrayed?"

"Will you stay if the club is punished?"

The questions pounded against the glass. Izan didn't flinch.

Miranda kept her eyes on her phone. "No stops. Just drive."

The driver obeyed, maneuvering through the chaos, but a few persistent journalists tried to keep up, knocking on the windows, shouting his name.

Izan shut his eyes. He could already see the headlines.

Izan Returns in Silence—What Does It Mean for Valencia?

The car finally cleared the crowd, speeding onto the open road. The tension in his chest didn't ease, but at least he could breathe again.

Miranda tucked her phone away and sighed. "I'll handle the media. You just focus on what's next."

Izan didn't reply. Because that was the problem. He didn't know what was next.

By the time they pulled up to his family's house, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving streaks of orange and purple across the sky.

Izan stepped out of the car, rolling his shoulders. The familiar scent of the ocean mixed with the warmth of home.

For the first time since he had read that headline, something inside him settled.

The front door opened before he could even reach it.

Komi stood there, arms crossed, her face a mix of relief and worry.

"Miura," she murmured.

He barely had time to react before she pulled him into a hug, holding him tighter than usual.

"I'm fine," he muttered, though even he didn't fully believe it.

She pulled back, her sharp eyes scanning him. "You don't look fine."

Hori's voice came from the living room. "Let him breathe, Mom."

Izan turned and saw his little sister lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

She didn't rush over like their mother, but the small smile she sent his way said enough.

He managed a smirk. "No 'welcome home'?"

She shrugged. "Didn't think I needed to. You already live here."

Komi shot her a look before turning back to Izan. "Are you hungry? I made food."

Izan shook his head. "Not now."

His mother studied him for a moment, then sighed. "I won't push. But we need to talk later."

Izan nodded. He had expected that. His mother wasn't the type to ignore problems, especially ones this big.

He moved further inside, dropping his bag by the stairs—then froze.

Someone else was here.

Sitting in the corner of the living room, curled up with a book in her hands, was Olivia.

Izan blinked. For a second, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.

She looked up, green eyes locking onto his, and smiled softly. "Surprise."

He stared at her. "What are you doing here?"

Olivia stood, setting the book aside. "I was supposed to be in Madrid." She stepped closer.

"But when the news broke, I figured you might need someone to talk to. So I came back."

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "You didn't have to do that."

She tilted her head. "I wanted to."

He studied her,

They need cash now. We have both the funds and the strategic need for a transformative player."

"Then we move decisively," Soriano said. "Let's get our team ready to make an offer. We can't afford to hesitate when the market is this favorable."

As these top clubs covertly aligned their strategies, the football world buzzed with speculation.

News channels and pundits dissected every detail. Analysts on live TV debated how Valencia's financial missteps would force their hand—arguing that the club's inability to balance the books could lead to immediate transfer restrictions and harsher sanctions.

Amid this maelstrom, one thing was clear: Valencia's misfortune was a golden opportunity for clubs with both the ambition and the resources to act swiftly.

The sharks were circling, ready to pounce on the club's prized asset.