Football Dynasty

O'Neill's first confrontation with Wenger in the Premier League ended in a bitter 3-1 defeat for the Frenchman. As the final whistle blew, jubilant chants and cheers echoed through Maine Road.

Then O'Neill strode toward Wenger for a handshake. The exchange was curt, professional—no smiles, no lingering pleasantries. Wenger simply nodded, shook hands, and turned to walk down the tunnel, leaving O'Neill and Mourinho to exchange brief handshakes with their departing players.

If Richard had been present, he might have understood Wenger's struggles in the Premier League. Perhaps Wenger was simply too principled—he never gloat after a victory, and a defeat weighed on him deeply. Social games of pleasantries were beneath him.

Meanwhile, Manchester City fans erupted in celebration of their team's victory. But Miss Heysen and Marina Granovskaia, seated in the directors' box, were seething.

How dare they?!

The sudden blackout at Maine Road—even if it lasted just a few seconds—had already tarnished the club's reputation. Casual observers might have brushed it off, but Miss Heysen, who knew Richard's obsession with perfection for Manchester City, could not allow such negligence to go unchallenged. And when she learned the truth of what had happened, her anger only intensified.

This was not the first time such sabotage had occurred. Not to mention that a security guard had spotted two suspicious individuals in the stadium's power distribution room and immediately reported the incident to Miss Heysen. She knew instantly that something was very wrong.

Police confirmed that the wiring in the power room had been tampered with. A hidden relay allowed the floodlights to be switched on and off remotely, and both fingerprints and footprints of the intruders were found at the scene.

But that wasn't all.

Unbeknownst to the fans, Maine Road had been placed in a temporary lockdown until the match concluded.

In the parking lot, police discovered a suspicious BMW, the same vehicle previously identified in CCTV footage as belonging to the two men.

Upon searching it, they found a stash of electrical equipment—proof that the saboteurs had come fully prepared.

Someone had attempted to manipulate the game. Miss Heysen knew it wasn't just bad luck or coincidence—this was calculated, deliberate, and it had almost succeeded.

In Room 507 of the Hulton Hotel, Richard dried himself with a large towel and changed into comfortable shorts and a white T-shirt before stepping out of the bathroom.

As he prepared to pull documents from his briefcase on the desk, his phone rang.

"At this hour? Who could it be?" he muttered, picking up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Boss, it's me," said Miss Heysen, her voice unusually upbeat despite the late hour.

Richard glanced at the wristwatch he had placed on the side and replied, "What's going on at this hour?"

"There's something I wanted to report," she said.

Richard leaned back, sensing the urgency in her tone. "Go ahead."

With no other choice, she explained the situation—the blackout at Maine Road and the attempted sabotage.

Upon hearing the details, Richard frowned instantly, his mind racing even across continents.

'Wait, the World Cup!'

Suddenly, Richard remembered a major incident prior to the 1998 World Cup. In fact, one of the football incidents of the 1990s—one he was certainly aware of, or at least one that shook the Premier League—stood out for its sheer audacity.

Two men from Asia had orchestrated one of the boldest schemes ever seen in English football, and it had already been successfully executed on at least two previous occasions. Even league officials were largely unaware that such meticulous plans were unfolding right under their noses.

Ideal frontmen, they had run up huge debts and needed to make money quickly. They were perfect candidates for the betting syndicate. Richard didn't know all the details, but the scheme was linked to a Triad gang and associated with an illegal Hong Kong betting syndicate whose members were arrested before the World Cup.

Just like in England, scores of betting syndicates operated across the Far East, with gambling on Premier League matches in particular becoming a multi-million-pound industry. As much as £30 million could be staked on the outcome of a single match, with betting especially high on games broadcast live on TV in the Far East.

"Had anything like this happened before?" Richard couldn't help but ask.

"Yes," came the reply. "The first incident, in November, was at Upton Park, with West Ham hosting Crystal Palace. The floodlights failed after 65 minutes, with the score at 2-2. The following month, a game at Selhurst Park in south London, between Wimbledon and Arsenal, was also abandoned with the scores level."

"What about the police?"

"They've already contacted us," Miss Heysen replied. "They're asking for full cooperation—access to stadium staff records, security logs, even CCTV archives. They want every detail."

"Of course, we'll comply. But…" she hesitated, "they also hinted they may want to interview some of our senior staff. It's procedure, but I don't like the implications."

"Good," Richard said at last. "Give them everything they need. If we hesitate, it'll only look like we have something to hide."

"Yes, I understand."

As the call ended, Richard sat alone in his hotel room, lost in deep thought.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Just then, Richard's room door rattled with a knock. He stood up, opened it, and found Stuart waiting outside.

"What's wrong?" Richard asked.

"We've got an update about Apple," Stuart replied, his tone urgent.

The moment he heard that, Richard's interest sharpened instantly.

It is worth mentioning that when Richard reached an agreement with Amelio to acquire his 55 million shares of Apple, he personally called Amelio to express his support and confidence in Apple's future.

Microsoft had offered $150 million, but Maddox Capital went higher—$160 million—to buy out all the directors' shares.

There was no need for further debate. The Apple board of directors, who had previously leaned toward Microsoft, immediately chose Maddox Capital. It could be said that nearly all the funds of Maddox Capital were poured into this transaction to purchase Apple shares.

In addition, Richard used Maddox Group's emergency funds, combining them with Maddox Capital, raising more than £250 million to support Apple after the acquisition.

Once the investments pay off and more funds flow in, he plans to transfer the money back from Maddox Capital into Maddox Group, keeping the cash flow balanced. This is the advantage of owning a sizable private equity fund—it allows assets to be allocated flexibly and efficiently.

Taking all these moves into account, Maddox Capital's final stake in Apple would not exceed 30%. That's why, alongside these major purchases of Apple stock, Richard never stopped quietly acquiring scattered shares on the secondary market. This was the reason he had personally brought the four men from London here.

It was precisely because of Maddox's contribution to the Apple acquisition that Richard's relationship with Goldman Sachs grew closer.

"Are you sure you want to reject Goldman's proposal for Apple?" Stuart asked.

The two parties had recently become close, and discussions revealed that Goldman Sachs wanted to invest US$10 million in Apple in exchange for a 20% stake. In other words, they valued Apple at only $50 million.

Richard sighed. "It's not that I don't want them involved, but their offer is simply far too low."

Twenty percent for $10 million? Ha!

Only a fool would agree to that price.

But as the talk shifted back to Apple, Richard suddenly remembered something.

"By the way, I know you and your friends and Goldman Sachs have great influence in Silicon Valley. I hope you can help me get in touch with the shareholders of a company and, if possible, acquire their shares."

Hearing this, Stuart couldn't help but grow curious.

"Which company?"

"NeXT."

"...What?"

"NeXT!!!"

When Stuart heard Richard's words, he couldn't tell whether the man was a genius or completely out of his mind.

"I thought you were joking."

"No. Buy that company—and keep its CEO. In fact, I want him back at Apple. Once Amelio sells his shares, I'll reinstate him as CEO."

"..."

Stuart was stunned. No… the man was probably crazy!

Just as Stuart opened his mouth, ready to argue with Richard's wild idea, the television in the hotel room suddenly switched segments.

"And now, highlights from the Ballon d'Or 1996…" the announcer declared.

Both men instinctively turned their eyes to the screen. The golden trophy shimmered under the lights, and a montage of the year's brightest stars flashed across—George Weah, Roberto Baggio, Alan Shearer—before finally resting on the winner is...

"..."

Richard immediately turned to face Stuart, his expression full of confusion.

"The fuck? Did I hear that wrong, or what? Did I just hear Ronaldo got second place?"