The news of Arthur's crash was a tidal wave.
But the Aston Villa article, which landed just hours later, was the aftershock that truly threatened to bring the entire building down.
It spread through the media like wildfire.
By the time Michael got back to his flat for a desperately needed shower, it was the only story in the football world. The narrative was perfect, tragic, and utterly devastating.
"BARNSLEY'S ARCHITECT IN HORROR CRASH... HOURS AFTER PREMIER LEAGUE OFFER."
Michael stood in his small living room, watching the 24-hour news, a towel draped over his shoulders, his hair still damp.
The pundits were not just reporting; they were speculating, their faces a mask of grim, self-important concern.
"You have to ask the question, Gary," one was saying, "was he unhappy? Did the pressure of working for an 18-year-old owner finally get to him? He was on the motorway... was he driving to Birmingham to sign the deal when this tragedy struck?"
