Billion Dollar Goal

Chapter 5

"Let go of my arm!" Hazel hissed, yanking her arm free from his grip. "If you ever put your hands on me like that on a public pitch again, I'll make sure your next board meeting is broadcast live to every tabloid in London."

Leo didn't flinch, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked at her. "You test my patience in front of my staff again, and I won't just bench you. I'll make sure you never play another professional match in Europe."

"Try it." She challenged, stepping closer despite the height difference. "See how fast the fans turn on you when your fifty-million-pound investment is sitting in the stands eating popcorn."

"My fans care about three things: winning, dominance, and zero embarrassment," Leo said, his voice dropping lower. "Do not mistake my tolerance for weakness. Get back to training."

He turned and walked away without waiting for her response, leaving Hazel with an intense determination to prove him wrong.

____

Two weeks later, the roar of sixty thousand screaming fans shook the foundations of Slater Stadium.

In the pre-match dressing room, the atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a knife. Head Coach Owen Jacobs paced back and forth across the floor, waving a tactical clipboard in the air.

"Listen to me very carefully," Owen barked, pointing a marker at the tactical board. "This team is physical. They sit deep, they clog the midfield, and they try to draw us into reckless fouls. We play laterally. We keep the possession and we do not force hero balls through the center."

Hazel rolled her eyes so hard it physically hurt, leaning back against her locker. "If we play sideways for ninety minutes, Owen, we'll put the entire stadium to sleep before halftime. We have the momentum. We should be pressing them high."

"We stick to the structure, Hazel," Gemma whispered from the adjacent bench, giving her a warning look. "Don't poke the bear before kickoff."

"I'm not poking the bear, I'm trying to win a game." Hazel muttered, pulling tightly on her boot laces. "Slater's data guys can analyze sideways passes all they want, but goals win matches, not spreadsheets."

Up in the executive VIP box, hidden behind heavily tinted glass, Leo sat in leather-bound luxury, watching every move down below like a hawk evaluating its prey.

When the referee blew the whistle for kickoff, the stadium erupted into loud cheers.

From the very first minute, it was glaringly obvious the visiting team had come with a brutal game plan. They weren't here to play football; they were here to hack down anything wearing the home team's crest. Their defensive midfielder, a hulking player named Ines, immediately targeted Hazel.

"Keep your head on a swivel," Gemma panted as she jogged past her during a brief stoppage in play. "That number six is looking for a red card."

"Let her try," Hazel spat, wiping a stray strand of hair away from her forehead. "She can't keep up with me anyway."

She was right. Whenever Hazel received the ball, she used her speed to get past her markers, driving straight through the middle of the opposition's defense. She ignored Owen’s frantic shouts from the touchline to slow the tempo down, choosing instead to play with the fast and aggressive style that made her elite.

By the thirty-fifth minute, the tackles were getting uglier, the pushes more obvious, and the referee was starting to lose control.

"Ref, are you blind?!" Hazel shouted across the pitch after an obvious elbow to her ribs went unpunished. "That's a yellow card every day of the week!"

"Watch your mouth, Engel!" The referee snapped back, waving her away.

"Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, jogging back to position as the opposing team restarted play.

Gemma tossed a quick pass her way as the ball zipped across the damp turf. Hazel trapped it cleanly with the sole of her boot, spinning instantly to face the goal, but before she could take a second touch, Ines came barreling in from her blind spot like a runaway freight train.

She wasn't even trying to win the ball. The tackle was reckless and clearly meant to hurt her.

"Hazel, watch out!" Gemma screamed, but it was already too late.

The collision was sickeningly loud.

The studs of Ines’s boot caught Hazel squarely on her right shin, sending her spinning through the air before she crashed hard onto the turf. The breath exploded from her lungs in a sharp gasp as her shoulder slammed into the grass.

The referee's whistle sounded immediately, cutting through the noise of the crowd as players from both teams immediately converged on the spot, shoving and shouting.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Gemma yelled, shoving Ines away from where Hazel lay motionless. "That was completely uncalled for!"

"She runs her mouth too much!" Ines sneered, backing away as the referee pulled out a red card.

On the grass, Hazel lay flat on her back, staring up at the blinding stadium floodlights. A wave of pain radiated up her right leg, making her vision swim at the edges. She tried to draw a breath, but her ribs felt painfully tight.

"Hazel! Can you hear me?" Gemma knelt beside her, her face pale with panic while her hands hovered over her. "Hey! Look at me!"

Hazel squeezed her eyes shut, her teeth clenched so hard her jaw ached. "I'm... I'm fine." She gritted out, though her voice sounded thin and breathless.

"Don't move," Gemma urged, looking frantically toward the touchline. "Medic! Get out here now!"

Hazel tried to push herself up, desperate to prove she wasn't broken, to shake off the pain and get back on her feet before anyone could call her weak.

But the moment she put weight on her right leg, it buckled beneath her pathetically, and she collapsed back down against the grass, gasping for air.

On the touchline, the medical team sprinted across the pitch with their kit bags flying open, while Owen buried his face in his hands, swearing under his breath. The entire stadium had fallen into a collective silence, sixty thousand people holding their breath as they stared at their star striker motionless on the turf.

High above the pitch, inside the private sanctuary of the executive VIP box, the atmosphere shattered instantly.

Leo stood up so fast his leather chair skidded back and crashed into the wood paneling behind him.

His gaze was locked entirely on the green turf down below, tracking the medical staff clustering around Hazel's crumpled form. For the first time, the calm expression he always wore disappeared, replaced by a terror that made his blood run cold.

"Sir? Should I call the medical liaison downstairs?" His personal assistant asked, half-rising from the corner of the room.

"Stay out of my way." Leo snapped, his voice short and cold.

Without uttering another word, he spun around, tore open the glass doors of the VIP box, and broke into a dead sprint down the concrete corridor toward the tunnel, his mind entirely consumed by a singular terrifying thought.