Carlos couldn't shake the tension from his shoulders as he entered the academy grounds the next morning. The cryptic message from the night before replayed in his mind, alongside Javier's warnings and the eerie presence of the suited men at the match.
For the first time since arriving at the academy, Carlos felt uncertain about his path. The dream he'd chased so passionately now felt shadowed by questions he couldn't answer.
As he tied his boots for training, Miguel sauntered over.
"Heard you played in the showcase last night," Miguel said, his tone unusually neutral. "How'd it go?"
Carlos hesitated. "We won."
Miguel smirked. "Of course you did. Don't get cocky, though. Herrera's favorites don't stay at the top forever."
Before Carlos could respond, Coach Ortega's whistle blew, signaling the start of practice.
The drills were particularly intense that day, with Ortega barking instructions at full volume. Carlos threw himself into every sprint, every pass, trying to drown out his swirling thoughts. He wasn't the only one feeling the pressure—his teammates' faces were etched with exhaustion as they pushed through the grueling session.
Near the end of practice, Herrera arrived, his commanding presence immediately drawing everyone's attention. He spoke briefly with Ortega before calling Carlos over.
"Carlos, walk with me," Herrera said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Carlos glanced at Ortega, who nodded, before jogging to catch up with Herrera.
They walked in silence for a moment, Herrera's polished shoes clicking against the pavement as they moved away from the field. Finally, he stopped and turned to face Carlos.
"I've been keeping a close eye on you," Herrera began. "You've shown promise beyond what I expected. And last night's performance confirmed what I've suspected all along: you're ready for the next level."
Carlos' heart raced. "What do you mean?"
Herrera reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a crisp document folder. "This is a preliminary contract. It's a direct pathway to Atlético Gran Rey's senior academy. Signing this means you'll receive specialized training, advanced facilities, and exposure to the professional world."
Carlos' hands trembled as he took the folder. He flipped through the pages, skimming the dense legal text and stopping at the financial terms. The numbers were staggering—a signing bonus larger than he'd ever imagined, along with a promise of additional incentives for performance.
"This is everything you've worked for," Herrera continued. "A chance to lift your family out of poverty and secure your future. But you need to decide quickly. Opportunities like this don't wait."
Carlos looked up, his excitement tempered by a nagging doubt. "What's the catch?"
Herrera's smile didn't waver. "The catch, Carlos, is that you'll be held to the highest standards. Every decision you make, on and off the field, will reflect on the academy and the club. But if you stay focused and committed, there's nothing to worry about."
Carlos nodded slowly, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. "Can I have time to think about it?"
Herrera's smile tightened slightly. "Of course. But don't take too long. The world doesn't wait, Carlos."
Back in his dorm, Carlos spread the contract out on his desk, his mind racing. The numbers were life-changing, but Herrera's words lingered in his mind: "Every decision you make… will reflect on the academy and the club."
He thought about Javier's warnings. Was this what he'd meant? Carlos had always been willing to give everything for football, but now he wondered what "everything" might cost.
He grabbed his phone and called Navarro.
"Carlos," Navarro said after picking up, "what's going on?"
"I got an offer," Carlos replied, his voice shaky. "Herrera wants me to sign with Atlético Gran Rey's senior academy. It's… huge."
There was a pause. "And you're hesitating?"
Carlos sighed. "I don't know. It feels like a dream, but something about it doesn't sit right."
Navarro's voice softened. "Listen, Carlos, only you can decide what's right for you. Just remember, no opportunity is worth it if you lose yourself along the way. If something feels off, trust that instinct."
The next day, Carlos found himself on the rooftop of the dormitory, Chico at his feet. He kicked the ball lightly, the repetitive motion helping to calm his nerves. He thought about his mamá, about the life they'd always dreamed of escaping, and about the warnings from both Navarro and Javier.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
A message from an unknown number: "Signing isn't just a contract—it's a chain. Don't let him bind you."
Carlos stared at the words, anger bubbling inside him. He was tired of the cryptic messages, the warnings without clarity. He needed answers.
That evening, Carlos knocked on Javier's door.
Javier opened it, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. "Carlos?"
"I need the truth," Carlos said firmly. "What does Herrera really want from me?"
Javier sighed and motioned for Carlos to sit.
"Herrera's contracts aren't just about football," Javier began. "He ties players to him in ways they don't see until it's too late. Sponsorship deals you don't control, appearances you can't refuse, personal endorsements that serve him more than you. If you sign, Carlos, your life stops being your own."
Carlos felt his chest tighten. "But if I don't sign, what then? This is my chance."
Javier leaned forward, his voice earnest. "You're talented, Carlos. You don't need Herrera to make it. There are other paths, ones that don't come with strings. But if you choose to sign, go in with your eyes open. Don't let him own you."
Carlos left Javier's apartment feeling more conflicted than ever. Back in his dorm, he stared at the contract once more, the pen in his hand trembling.
The choice was his. But whichever path he chose, Carlos knew there would be no turning back.