Football System: Touchline God
Chapter 41: A Small Victory

Chapter 41: A Small Victory

She reached for a ceramic bowl next, one painted with tiny flowers. But as she lifted it, she caught sight of the ivory box on the table which was still open and holding the one thing she couldn’t bear to lose.

Her arm froze in mid-throw.

The bowl slipped from her numb fingers and shattered on the floor, but she barely heard it. She was staring at the box, at the powder that had become her closest companion, her most reliable comfort.

It was the only thing in the room that understood her. The only thing that never judged her or asked her to be someone she wasn’t.

Rosana sank onto the bed, surrounded by the wreckage of her rage. Glass crunched under her bare feet, but she didn’t feel the pain. The powder had wrapped her in cotton, made everything distant and soft.

She looked around at what she’d done. The room was destroyed, beautiful things reduced to trash. Like her life. Like her dreams.

Outside, the storm was beginning to pass. The thunder was moving away, leaving only the steady drumming of rain against the windows.

Rosana lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. The powder was still working its magic, making her feel like she was floating, on top of the world. For now, that was enough.

Tomorrow, she would have to face the consequences of tonight. Tomorrow, she would have to clean up the mess and pretend that everything was fine.

But tonight, she could pretend that none of it mattered. Tonight, she could let the powder carry her away from the pain, from the loneliness, from the life she’d never chosen but couldn’t seem to escape.

The clock on her nightstand ticked steadily onward, marking time that felt both endless and too short.

And in the ruins of her room, Rosana Marrowgate finally stopped fighting and let the darkness take her.

***

Darius closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. The noise made his head pound worse than any hangover. Each crash felt like a hammer blow to his skull. He wanted to go upstairs, to kick down her door and make her stop. But he knew better.

Rosana in this state was like a wild animal caught in a trap. Approach her now and she would only hurt herself more trying to get away.

Fortunately, the sound of destruction stopped and silence ensued.

He held his breath, counting the seconds. One. Two. Three. The quiet stretched on, broken only by the steady tick of the grandfather clock and the rain still pattering against the windows.

"Finally. It’s all over."

Darius let out a long breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His shoulders sagged with relief. Whatever storm had been raging inside Rosana had finally burned itself out.

He picked up his pen and tried to focus on the papers spread across his desk. Monthly reports from the steel works. Profit margins that needed his attention. Numbers that usually made perfect sense but now looked like meaningless scratches on paper.

BRRRRIIIINNNGGG!~

The phone rang.

Darius stared at it for a moment, debating whether to answer. The last thing he wanted right now was to deal with more business. But the caller ID showed a familiar number. Malcolm Edward.

He picked up on the fourth ring.

"Edward."

The voice on the other end was nervous, almost shaky. "Lord Marrowgate, sir. I hope I’m not calling too late."

Darius glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. "What is it, Malcolm?"

"It’s done, sir. What you asked for. Eric Maddox has been... let go. His contract’s been terminated effective immediately."

The words hit Darius like a shot of expensive whiskey. Smooth and warming, spreading through his chest with satisfaction he hadn’t felt in weeks.

"When?"

"This morning, sir. We called him into the office during training. Told him he’s being sacked because of the youth team’s poor run of form." Malcolm’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. "According to the youth academy director, he didn’t take it well, I’m afraid."

Darius smiled for the first time all night. A cold, sharp expression that would have made his enemies nervous. "I don’t care how he took it. Is he gone?"

"Yes, sir. Cleared out his office and everything. Won’t be coming back."

"Perfect."

Eric Maddox, the man who had stolen his daughter away from her proper place in society, was finally getting what he deserved. A taste of real hardship. A reminder of where people like him belonged.

"The money will be transferred to your account tomorrow," Darius said. "As agreed."

"Thank you, Lord Marrowgate. The board will be thrilled. With that injection of funds, we might actually make it to the third-division next season."

Duke’s League One. As if Darius cared about the pathetic dreams of a fourth-division football club. The Silvergate Sailors were nothing but a tool to him. A way to reach Eric Maddox without getting his own hands dirty.

"Just remember our agreement, Malcolm. This conversation never happened."

"Of course, sir. You have my word."

Darius hung up without saying goodbye. He leaned back in his chair and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Justice, finally. Not the dramatic kind you saw in movies, but the quiet, efficient kind that money could buy.

His daughter Alina had chosen poorly five years ago. Had thrown away everything he’d built for their family to marry a nobody from nowhere. A youth football coach who made in a year what Darius spent on toiletries in a month.

The memory still burned in his chest like acid.

He’d been in this very study when Alina had walked in, her cheeks flushed with excitement, a simple gold band on her finger. She’d been glowing with happiness, practically bouncing on her toes as she announced her secret marriage.

"His name is Eric Maddox, Father. He coaches the youth team at Silvergate Sailors. He’s wonderful, and I love him, and I know you’ll love him too once you meet him."

Love him. As if Darius could ever love a man who had stolen his daughter’s future. Who had reduced her from a lady with prospects to a pauper’s wife living in some cramped apartment above a chip shop.

The rage had been immediate and pure. He’d thrown his whiskey glass at the wall, watched it shatter into a thousand pieces while Alina stood there in shock.

"Get out," he’d said, his voice deadly quiet. "Get out of my house and don’t come back until you’ve come to your senses."

But she hadn’t come to her senses. Five years later, she was still married to that worthless man. Only doing well because of her mother’s interference and monetary allowances, when she could have been a duchess or a countess. Still choosing love over logic.

Well, now Eric Maddox would learn what it meant to cross the Marrowgate family. Losing his job was just the beginning. Darius had other plans, other ways to make the man’s life miserable until he finally did the honorable thing and disappeared.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in."

Harrison stepped into the study, still looking composed despite the late hour. His gray hair was perfectly combed, his suit unwrinkled. The man probably slept standing up.

"I heard the commotion earlier, my Lord. Is everything all right?"

Darius waved a hand dismissively. "Rosana had a difficult evening. She’s fine now."

Harrison’s expression didn’t change, but Darius caught the slight tightening around his eyes. The man had worked for the family long enough to read between the lines.

"Shall I have Mrs. Patterson prepare a cleaning crew for the morning?"

"Yes. And have her order replacements for whatever was broken. Rosana shouldn’t have to deal with the mess when she wakes up."

"Of course, sir." Harrison paused at the door. "Will there be anything else tonight?"

Darius looked around the study. At the papers scattered across his desk. At the empty whiskey glass that needed refilling.

"No, Harrison. That will be all."

The door closed with a soft click, leaving Darius alone with his thoughts and his small victory.

Outside, the storm was finally moving on. The rain had gentled to a light patter, and the thunder was just a distant rumble now.

Darius poured himself another whiskey and raised the glass in a silent toast.

To family honor. To knowing one’s place. And to the sweet satisfaction of seeing your enemies exactly where they belonged.

At the bottom.

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