Football Dynasty-Chapter 70: Obscuring The Trail Through Asset

Richard's dual-role case was relatively contained from the start, as only a select group—the super-rich who could afford to own football clubs—were directly affected.

The European Court of Justice (ECJ) generally does not proceed with cases if the complainant withdraws, unless there is a strong public interest in continuing the proceedings.

Since Richard is the sole plaintiff, dropping the case would be a straightforward process, unlike cases with multiple plaintiffs, where consensus would be required.

While legal arguments had been presented, the case had not yet reached a decisive stage. The ECJ's main consideration would be whether the case had broader implications for EU law.

Given the circumstances, it is likely that the governing bodies involved would quietly adjust policies to prevent similar challenges in the future, rather than letting the case reshape existing football regulations.

Richard kept his promise to Johansson in exchange for the brown envelope containing evidence of two crimes involving the FA and the Premier League's top brass.

Of course, at a critical time like this, suddenly dropping the case would naturally lead journalists and other football stakeholders to demand explanations. Thankfully, Richard and his team were prepared with responses.

Journalist: "Why did you suddenly decide to drop the case? Were you pressured into withdrawing it?"

Richard Maddox (calmly): "After careful consideration and discussions with my legal team, I've concluded that this is the best course of action for all parties involved. There are always discussions and differing perspectives, but ultimately, my decision was based on what I felt was the most practical and beneficial outcome."

Journalist: "Does this mean you have no further plans to challenge football governance in court?"

Richard Maddox (chuckles): "I wouldn't say that. But for now, my focus is elsewhere. Alright, gentlemen, thank you for your time. Excuse me."

With that, Richard signaled to his bodyguards and walked out of the courthouse alongside Adam Lewis and Nick De Marco.

As they stepped past the gathered press, he offered a polite smile before disappearing into the awaiting car.

In the car, Richard simply leaned back and finally let out a relieved breath. He then turned to Nick. "Has the things been delivered?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah, I'd say they're reading it as we speak."

"Good, then," Richard murmured before leaning back and closing his eyes.

While Richard, Adam, and Nick were wrapping up their case, something was unfolding in the UK—particularly in the world of football.

At Lancaster Gate, London, the FA's headquarters, which also housed the newly established FA Premier League office, a storm was brewing.

Keith Wiseman, Chairman of the FA, was occupied with his work when his secretary entered, placing an envelope on his desk. Distracted, he barely acknowledged it, giving only a brief nod and a muttered "thank you" without glancing up.

Hours passed, and as the afternoon wore on, Wiseman finally stretched his arms, feeling the strain of writing for so long.

His gaze eventually drifted toward the unopened envelope. Absentmindedly, he reached for it and tore it open—only for his heart to nearly leap out of his chest when he saw what was inside.

His throat went dry. How did this get out?

Keith Wiseman was no fool. Sitting in the FA's chair—especially one teetering on the brink of financial collapse—wasn't enough for him. His ambitions stretched far beyond that.

His real goal?

The FIFA Vice Presidency.

The election was fast approaching, and while he had the credentials, he needed solid backing to secure his place. That was why £3.2 million had been discreetly funneled to the Welsh FA—in exchange for their support in getting him elected as Britain's vice-president on UEFA's executive committee.

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, followed by a sudden knock on the door that made him flinch.

"Sir?" His secretary's voice came through. "Mr. Kelly is on the line. He says it's urgent."

Wiseman took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to steady himself before regaining his composure.

"Thank you. You can go back now," he said, his voice measured.

"Yes, sir," his secretary replied before quietly leaving the room.

Once he was certain he was alone, Wiseman carefully slipped the documents back into the envelope before reaching for the phone and picking it up.

"Wiseman here,"

"Mr. Wiseman...?"

The voice on the other end was unfamiliar.

His grip tightened. "...Who is this?"

"You've seen it, haven't you? The envelope."

Wiseman's eyes widened. His pulse quickened.

"Who the hell are you?! What do you want?! How do you know about this?!"

"Relax, Mr. Wiseman. I'm not here to start a war," the voice replied, calmly. "I'm here to negotiate."

"Negotiate?!" Wiseman's breath came fast and shallow. Goddamn it. Am I being blackmailed?!

"Is this about money?! How much do you want?"

A low chuckle came through the line. "No, no. You misunderstand. I don't want money—I want your cooperation."

"...Cooperation?"

"There are going to be changes next season—maybe the one after that, too. I can't say for sure. But what I can tell you is this: I want the FA's full support. Just keeping your silence is enough. That's all—nothing more, nothing less."

"Hey—hey, wait a damn minute! Support what?! What exactly are you asking me to do?! Don't just—hey! HEY!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"FUCK!" Wiseman slammed the phone down, his face burning with rage.

Unbeknownst to him, in the very same building—just in a different block—the exact same drama was unfolding.

This time, it was the Premier League's Chief Executive, Rick Parry. And, well... let's just say he had also enjoyed a little financial encouragement from Francis Lee. As expected, birds of the same feather flock together.

Rick Parry, too, had sought advice from Wiseman to figure out how to handle the situation.

"But we don't even know who sent this!" Wiseman exclaimed, holding up the threatening document. "How are we supposed to deal with someone if we don't know who they are?"

Rick Parry stared at the letter, his mind racing. The words were simple, but the implications were damning. If this got out, it could destroy everything they'd worked for.

He began to regret taking Francis Lee's bribe now. It would have been easier if the blackmailer had specified what they needed to stay silent about, but since they hadn't, the situation only grew more complicated.

Now, they were left guessing. The worst part was that, no matter what happened in the league next season, they would have to remain silent—otherwise, they'd risk retaliation.

"Hey, come to think of it... there's only one person who could be behind all this," Parry said suddenly, his voice tightening as the realization hit him. "Richard Maddox."

Wiseman was taken aback, before a look of disdain appeared on his face. "Maddox? Impossible!" he quickly dismissed the possibility.

"He's in Brussels right now, fighting for his life. And besides, why would he target us? His personal vendetta is with Kelly and Johansson, not us. How could he even know about this? The only people who are aware of it are the two of us, Kelly, Johansson, and Francis. You don't think Francis could have leaked this, do you?"

"Hmmm... that makes sense too," Parry thought for a moment before agreeing with him.

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All these uncertainties left both Keith Wiseman and Rick Parry feeling cornered, unsure of where to even begin.

"But we don't have a lead, do we?" Wiseman suddenly said.

"That's right. Even with all your points, whether we like it or not, Richard Maddox is the prime suspect."

"But what's the benefit for him in blackmailing us? This will only cause him trouble."

After thinking for a moment, Parry had an idea. "Let's wait a while. We'll follow the developments of his case first, then we can decide what to do next. For now, we need to find the motive. That's the most important thing, so we don't target the wrong person."

"Good then. Let's do it your way," Wiseman said, closing the discussion.

Meanwhile, in Brussels, the situation took a different turn. Since Richard dropped the case as the plaintiff, everything seemed to be running smoothly.

For Johansson, relief finally came. He wanted to bid farewell to Kelly, but after thinking about their last conversation, which had ended on bad terms, he decided to head straight to Lausanne, Switzerland, where UEFA's administrative offices were located.

He could have hinted to Kelly that Richard would eventually drop the case, but he didn't dare. With the two pieces of evidence Richard held, even if his name wasn't directly mentioned, if the case reopened and Kelly got involved again, could he be sure Kelly wouldn't drag him into it as well?

Wouldn't that be just asking for trouble?

As for Graham Kelly, for the first time, he could sleep peacefully. To be honest, the case had truly caused him a great deal of stress. But when Richard dropped the case, he was taken aback. At first, he thought the other party's mind had become muddled.

Why would he want to drop the case?

But then, he was elated. For the first time in months, he could finally rest easy.

RING

Kelly lay in bed, cradling his pillow as he drifted into a deep sleep, only to be abruptly awakened by the ringing phone. Groggy and annoyed, he answered, instantly recognizing his assistant's voice.

"What is it? Why are you—"

"SIR, PLEASE TURN ON THE TV!"

His assistant's frantic words jolted him awake. "What's going on? What's the commotion?"

"Sir, it's too complicated to explain over the phone. Just watch the news. It's all over TV!"

The urgency in the last sentence sent a chill down Kelly's spine. He quickly got out of bed, made his way to the remote, and switched to Eurosport. When he saw what was unfolding on the screen, he cursed loudly.

The anchor began (serious and somber): "A child sexual abuse scandal involving young football players in the United Kingdom has rocked the sport. Anonymous sources have come forward, revealing shocking allegations..."

Kelly's eyes widened, but the news didn't stop there.

"Several former football players have come forward, claiming they were victims of abuse during the 1970s, 1980s, and even into the early 1990s. While no official statements have been made, rumors are swirling that the Football Association may have been aware of the abuse but failed to act or, even worse, shielded the perpetrators to protect their own reputation—"

"FUCK! WHAT IS THIS?!!" Kelly smashed the remote in frustration, pacing back and forth. His mind was racing, his thoughts spiraling.

"Could it be an enemy within the FA?" he muttered to himself. "Wiseman? Impossible, he wouldn't dare do something like this... But wait, could it be?"

He wanted to say "Richard Maddox," but the next part of the news shattered his thoughts.

The anchor continued, "Many victims have waived their rights to anonymity, and sources confirm that allegations are centered on abuse at clubs like Crewe Alexandra and Manchester City, linked to certain individuals within those organizations—"

Kelly quickly silenced his thoughts and removed Richard Maddox's name from the list of suspects.

"Think, think!" he muttered under his breath, the pressure mounting. The clock was ticking, and this storm was far from over.

"FUCK!" He could no longer keep it in.

Frustrated, he grabbed the phone and called his assistant. "Immediately set up a task force and investigate everyone involved. Don't hold back. Get full cooperation from the police and all the teams involved—now!!!"

He quickly issued the instructions, his mind racing as he tried to stay ahead of the chaos unfolding.

Still in Brussels, at the Sofitel Brussels Europe.

Richard, Adam Lewis, and Nick De Marco were watching the news that they had anonymously tipped off to the media.

"Aren't you worried that your club might be thrown into even more chaos after this?" Nick asked, glancing toward Richard.

Richard took a sip of his orange juice before responding, "The more chaos, the better. With that, it'll be easier for me to rebuild it from the ground up."

"But to actually use a sexual abuse scandal... aren't you worried this will leave a permanent stain?"

"What's there to be afraid of?" Richard clicked his tongue. "I haven't been part of it. Besides..." Richard paused for a moment. "Once this case becomes public, it'll give me the perfect excuse to distance myself from the people I worked with before."

"What do you mean?"

"Hmm, to put it simply, these allegations give me the perfect excuse to sever ties with them without facing any backlash."

"He doesn't want to upset the fans or other parties," Adam interjected. "He just needs a solid reason to reject them if City falls into his hands. That's why he tipped off the media about the scandal."

Richard nodded. "Exactly. With this, if someone like Tony Book or Ken Barnes, who are still closely tied to the club as legends, ask to come back, I can turn them down without hesitation, knowing I have a valid reason for it."

Nick was still confused. "But you're the club owner, right? You have the authority to reject them."

"But he doesn't want to risk alienating part of the fanbase," Adam explained. "He wants to play the emotional card just right, especially given the strong connection the fans have to these legends. He needs to be careful about distancing himself from those who helped build the club's legacy."

"If I outright reject them or distance the club from them, it would upset a lot of people. I'm not sure if they still have a loyal fanbase, but I don't want to risk upsetting them or letting them go freely to Manchester United. You understand what I mean, right? This scandal is the perfect excuse to do that without facing public backlash." Richard explained.

In short, the scandal provided him with a "shield"—a legitimate reason to explain his actions and morally distance the club from these individuals, while still maintaining his position in the eyes of the fans. He could present it as a decision made for the good of the club, ensuring they moved away from any negativity tied to the past.

With this, his plan to rebuild City from scratch was perfect. He could frame it as part of a new Chapter for Manchester City, one where the club was no longer shackled by the baggage of its former players and management.

Isn't it flawless?

He could fill the management with his own people, handpick players that fit his vision, tweak the club however he saw fit, and position himself as the club's savior. This would give him full control over the narrative, allowing him to steer the club exactly where he wanted.

"This is a clean slate and a fresh, especially with Manchester City almost relegated to the Division Two right now," Richard said, satisfied with his plan.

Francis Lee's time as chairman had been an unmitigated disaster. He squandered millions on poor transfer market decisions, demolished stand only to spend even more to meet new all-seater stadium regulations, sacked an attack-minded manager and replaced him with Alan Ball, dragged the club further into unmanageable debt, and, of course, set off a chain of events that would push the club to its lowest point in its more than 100-year history.

"And you forgot one thing," Adam suddenly said to Nick. "With this scandal, he's basically erased any trace that could link him to this leak."

"Is it because Manchester City is in the news now?"

"Yes, exactly," Adam said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "After all, no one would ever suspect that the person responsible for tarnishing the club's reputation is the largest the owner himself."

"So that's how it is," Nick finally understood.

Indeed, the anonymous sources mentioned by the anchor would become the media's focus, drawing attention and speculation from everyone. But who would suspect that the culprit was Richard himself?

By doing this, he would also erase any doubts the FA and Premier League had against him.

"Hey, by the way, look at this. I kept it just for you," Adam suddenly said with a sly grin before tossing a newspaper at Richard.

Richard's curiosity piqued as he glanced at it, only to be taken aback.

The newspaper headline featured Francis Lee, with a bold statement: "I would jump off the Kippax if City were relegated. Sources: 1992."

"Then shouldn't he have jumped twice by now? Hahahahaha!"