The Forest boardroom, now Liam's boardroom, pulsed with activity. Lawyers moved between tables, exchanging documents for signatures. Financial advisors conferred in hushed tones. Club officials waited nervously for final confirmations.
Liam stood apart, gazing out the window at the City Ground pitch. Four months ago, he had been an unemployed football analyst with dwindling savings and fading dreams. Now he was minutes away from becoming the owner of a two-time European Cup-winning club.
All because of Window Five.
"Final approvals just came through," Howard announced, approaching with a tablet. "The Football League has cleared the acquisition. Pending your final signature, Nottingham Forest Football Club is yours."
Liam turned from the window. "And the other matter?"
Howard lowered his voice. "The financial regulators have formally opened investigations into your trading activities, both in Spain and the UK. Our legal team is preparing responses, but they're asking for transaction records going back six months."
"Give them everything. We have nothing to hide." Technically true—his early gambling wins had been laundered through legitimate businesses, and his trading activities, while impossibly successful, broke no specific laws.
"There's also the message you received," Howard continued. "Our security team traced it to a burner phone purchased in Madrid. Impossible to identify the sender."
Liam had received three more cryptic messages over the past week, each suggesting that his success couldn't be explained by conventional means. He'd ignored all of them, but their persistence was concerning.
"Increase security protocols. Encrypted communications only."
Miguel entered, tablet in hand. "The transfer targets you identified—I've made contact with all their representatives. Four have expressed immediate interest. The others are waiting to see our first moves."
"Excellent. Begin formal negotiations with these two," Liam indicated two names on Miguel's list.
"Are you sure about this Liam?" Miguel asked, probably for the third ... Was it fourth time since he was handed these potential Transfer Targets.
"These players are ...".
"Exactly what I am looking for." Liam interrupted, knowing for well why Miguel was bothered. It really, honestly couldn't be helped.
As a now promising businessman with high liquid assets with a dream to create a Champion Team, his first few signing Targets were ... Odd, to say the least.
At least for the fans who were expecting major changes, it would definitely be surprising. If not handled well, perhaps even cause outrage.
Liam new this was something he couldn't change.
Unless of course he screamed that he was from the future and these inconspicuous players would soon become big stars playing for big teams.
It could and would however, make him a global laughingstock and incite the very outrage he was trying to avoid if he did so. Liam knew this, and planned appropriate measures to deal with it.
With his currently tension filled schedule, Fan outrage was the last thing he needed to incur right now. Hence he needed to handle this meticulously.
Many similar Transfers like this would follow, and he didn't want to be the Novel protagonist who got abused by his own fans and the outside world before performing the classic face slapping.
He was now a Multimillionaire.
For the multitude of things he had planned, Public Image and reputation was essential.
"I have spent a lot more time observing these players than you have during My jobless year. I have also followed them continuously since the algorithm development. I've analyzed their playing styles and I feel they will be very suited for my future Team. Just think of it as me placing my own bets on their future potential."
Hearing this, Miguel could only keep silent. His friend had relied on the same analysis ability to create the algorithm that currently made him rich.
He had made his entire fortune and current life on gambling against the odds. Quite literally.
Plus, they may be friends but they weren't equal partners. It didn't change that Liam was the boss here.
'Let's hope this goes well.'
He thought inwardly, hoping Liam's analysis that had been overwhelmingly accurate so far wouldn't fail him now.
Besides, it didn't really matter. The transfer fees of these players weren't that much. At most, they would splurge a few million if the investment didn't pay off.
He had read the news. Judging from Liam's speed of making money, as long as nothing horribly wrong happened, such a small amount wouldn't matter.
Miguel paused at his mindset. 'I can't believe I just thought that.' Since when did he start regarding a few million as 'a small amount?' It was official. Liam was contaminating him.
Seeing Miguel's silence, Liam mistook it for worry felt slightly warm inside, and uttered.
"The players won't have much impact for the rest of this season anyway. If it soothes your worries, I've gone through the Transfer List given to me by the current Head Coach. While not perfect, I can say he still has some observational skills. There are a few noteworthy players on the list that are not only decent, but will reinforce the team greatly."
Shifting the discussion, he began talking about the current situation of his soon be Club. One would note that his expression, gestures, and voice carried significantly more natural enthusiasm than it did seconds ago.
"I studied his current Tactical philosophy and Formations. His choices will not only strengthen required positions, but the players themselves have good value. Most can be kept, others can sell for a good price when we hit the Premier League. Picking the right ones is only a matter of course."
This was Liam's countermeasures.
The fans would definitely riot if a bunch if unknown players were shoved into the team to take up main positions. The unscrupulous media would paint it as him taking control of the lineup from the current coach. Any failures that followed would be blamed on him.
Not to mention the fact that the Team would crumble from internal division and ultimately fail to hit the Premier League.
If worst comes to worst, the current coach would resign on the spot. A wanted outcome but the backlash would be tremendous.
Hence, he would buy his own players, while also buying the players the coach wanted. Affordable players with value for growth and could strengthen the lineup. Of course, the requirements for this season would definitely increase.
He would buy the players on the list, but Nottingham Forest must advance to the premier league. Minimum requirements was playoffs.
If he failed to achieve it, Liam had a very good excuse to fire him. If he succeeded? ... Liam would still fire him regardless. He only allowed this half a season. All the coach had to do was make sure his players got appropriate playing time to keep his transfer treasures sharp.
As long as they hit the Premier League, it would all be worth it. Liam didn't mind waiting a bit more. As for the money spent on acquiring them? With window Five, money had long since stopped being a problem.
It was a triple win for him, the Fans and The Coach. Except the coach would be leaving next season.
Listening to him speak, Miguel's lips couldn't help but twitch. 'If I wasn't sure before, there's no doubt now he's the same Liam.'
"You're helping the coach build a team that can impact the premier league so you can ruthlessly kick him out next season?"
In response, Liam chuckled, not denying it.
"Why do you think I bought this club? I told you Miguel, it's all just to return back to the game on my terms".
Hearing this, Miguel was as speechless. His buddy has become rich and now, his ways of doing things were simply unfathomable yet very effective.
You want to be a Football Coach? Buy a club.
"We'll go through them after this. I'll give you the ones to buy. You can announce them altogether."
Liam said. Miguel nodded, feeling more at ease.
Seeing this Liam let out a breath.
For the past week, Liam had been working twenty-hour days, using Window Five constantly to navigate conversations, negotiations, and media inquiries. The strain was beginning to tell—headaches that lingered beyond his use of the ability, moments of disorientation when he confused what he had seen in a Window Five preview with what had actually occurred.
But it would all be worth it once the acquisition was complete.
Howard approached with the final documents. "These require your signature. Once executed, the funds will transfer automatically, and a press release will go out announcing the completion."
Liam took the documents, scanning the terms one last time. Everything was as negotiated—75% ownership of Nottingham Forest, with options to acquire an additional 20% over three years. The supporters' trust would retain their 5% in perpetuity.
He signed with the Mont Blanc pen Valentina had given him as a good luck gift. "It's done."
A ripple of applause moved through the room. Forest's chairman—former chairman now—approached with an outstretched hand.
"Congratulations, Mr. Torres. The club is in your hands now."
Outside, word had already spread. Hundreds of supporters had gathered, their chants audible through the windows: "Torres! Torres! Torres!"
"They expect you to address them," Miguel said. "It's tradition when ownership changes."
Liam nodded. "Arrange it. I'll speak to them in thirty minutes."
As the room cleared for preparations, Liam used the moment of privacy to activate Window Five. He saw himself still in this room five minutes from now, on the phone with Valentina, discussing the growing media presence outside their London apartment. Nothing urgent, nothing he needed to prepare for.
His phone rang—exactly as he had just foreseen. Valentina.
"Hey honey." He said upon answering.
"Hey!"
"It's done, The club is mine."
"Congratulations," she replied, though her tone lacked enthusiasm.
Liam raised an eyebrow. He wasn't that well versed with women as football had took the dominant force in his life ahead of dating since rebirth. But even he could tell that something wasn't right.
"Anything the matter?"
"My parents want to see you."
".."
The call went silent.
"I'll admit, I was not expecting that."
"It's not what you think." she replied, clearly understanding what he was talking about.
"They learned about you from the Financial Times and were quite interested in the subject of me dating what, as the Financial Times put it, "A possible Financial Criminal"."
".."
Liam was speechless.
"I'm sorry. What?"
"The Financial Times came looking for me again. They're running a feature on your 'impossible' trading success and consulted experts who claim your returns defy statistical probability. Let's just say my family were quite unsettled."
Liam rubbed his eyebrows with an exasperated sigh. How did he not know that relationships could be such a hassle? Then, he assured her. "This will settle down once the initial excitement passes. Let them speculate. Without evidence of wrongdoing, it's just noise."
"Is it really? I mean, I'm not stranger to fame but what I'm getting is on a whole new level Liam. And not the good kind. Vogue cancelled my cover shoot over 'reputational concerns'?" Valentina's frustration was evident through the phone.
Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. The collateral damage was spreading faster than he'd calculated. "I'm sorry about Vogue. I'll have my PR team reach out to them."
"That's not the point, Liam. Where does this end? The media is obsessed with uncovering your 'secret.' Every financial analyst with a blog is dissecting your trades. This isn't sustainable."
She was right. The scrutiny was intensifying daily. But the AFCON tournament was only six weeks away. Once Zambia won and his multi-million euro bets paid off, the narrative would shift from "suspicious newcomer" to "eccentric billionaire." The scrutiny would remain, but the nature of it would change.
"I need you to trust me for six more weeks," he said. "After the Africa Cup of Nations concludes in February, everything will change. I promise."
A pause on the line. "What happens in February, Liam?"
He'd said too much. "Just another phase of our investment strategy. Look, I need to address the supporters now. We'll talk tonight when I'm back in London."
After ending the call, Liam straightened his tie and walked to the window again. The crowd outside had grown larger, with local news cameras now present. Their chants had evolved: "Torres' Red Army! Torres' Red Army!"
Miguel appeared at his side. "They're ready for you."
"How many are out there?"
"At least a thousand. Word spread quickly on social media. They're calling it 'Independence Day' – the day Forest begins its journey back to glory."
The weight of responsibility settled on Liam's shoulders. These weren't just customers or shareholders; they were believers. Their club wasn't just a business to them; it was identity, family, religion. What he did with Nottingham Forest would impact thousands of lives in ways that went far beyond football.
"Let's not keep them waiting," Liam said.
He followed Miguel down to the main entrance, where club officials and security had created a small cleared area with a microphone stand. The moment Liam stepped outside, the roar was deafening—scarves raised, flags waving, faces alight with hope.
Liam stepped to the microphone, waiting for the crowd to quiet. He could use Window Five to perfect his speech, but he chose not to. This moment deserved authenticity.
"Supporters of Nottingham Forest," he began, his voice carrying across the gathered throng. "Today marks the beginning of a new chapter in this club's storied history. But before we look forward, we must acknowledge the legacy we inherit."
He gestured to the stadium behind him. "On this ground, Brian Clough and Peter Taylor built a team that conquered not just England, but Europe. Twice. That legacy is not a burden—it's our inspiration."
The crowd roared their approval.
"I make you three promises today," Liam continued when they quieted. "First, to respect the traditions and identity of this great club. Second, to invest with ambition and purpose, not recklessness. And third, to return Nottingham Forest to where it belongs—competing with the very best."
More cheers erupted, scarves twirling above the sea of red.
"This will not happen overnight," Liam cautioned. "Success requires patience, planning, and precision. But make no mistake—the work begins today. Within twenty-four hours, you will see the first signs of our ambition in the transfer market."
That revelation sent a new wave of excitement through the crowd. Two supporters in the front row unfurled a banner reading "THE ORACLE OF MADRID" with Liam's face emblazoned beside the Forest crest.
"The journey back to glory starts now," Liam concluded. "Thank you for your welcome, your passion, and your belief. I will not let you down."
As he stepped away from the microphone, the crowd began singing "Mull of Kintyre," the club's anthem, thousands of voices united in a sound that sent chills down Liam's spine. For a moment, he forgot about the investigations, the mysterious messages, the media scrutiny—this was why he had done it all. To rebuild something magnificent, something that mattered.
Back inside, Howard was waiting with his security team. "Impressive speech. But we have a situation that requires immediate attention."
"What now?"
"Someone attempted to breach our financial servers in Zurich an hour ago. Sophisticated attack—they were targeting files related to your trading algorithms."