Chapter 292: [292] "What a way to end the season"

Talia laughed, extending her hand. "We have. It’s a pleasure to meet you again," Talia said, her smile genuine. She looked at Hugo. "I still don’t fully understand the offside trap you tried to explain to me, but watching you dictate the game out there was incredible."

Hugo adjusted his posture, a shift that indicated satisfaction. "The offside trap requires spatial awareness and synchronization. I can diagram it for you on a when we leave."

"Please don’t," Juliette intervened, offering Talia a sympathetic look. "Do not let him turn this night into a lecture. Take him out to dinner. Make him talk about something other than football."

"I will try my best," Talia promised.

The crowd near the tunnel entrance began to part. The presence of personal security guards signaled an arrival from the executive suites.

Valérie Laurent stepped onto the grass.

The billionaire owner of SC Valois moved with grace that defined her entire existence. She wore a sharp-cut white suit that stood out brilliantly against the dark green turf. She navigated the chaos of the celebrating players without breaking her stride, her eyes locking onto Luc and Hugo.

Walking slightly behind Valérie was a younger woman. Fenrisha.

Valérie’s younger sister possessed the same sharp eyes, but she lacked the commanding, corporate aura Valérie projected. Fenrisha wore a dark coat, her hands tucked into her pockets, silently observing the celebration. She didn’t seek attention whatsoever.

"Beaumont. Blanc," Valérie greeted, stopping in front of them. She looked at the two players, her expression radiating triumph.

"Valérie," Luc acknowledged.

"A domestic trophy in our rival’s stadium," Valérie stated, looking up at the empty tiers where their opponents executives had been sitting just minutes prior. "I only wish we didn’t knock out Paris Royal early on, if not we would have beaten them here to make it a lot sweeter. Though, I could not have scripted a more profitable conclusion to this season. The broadcast numbers for this final have shattered records."

"We aimed for the league," Hugo pointed out, immune to his mother’s corporate aura. "We dropped points in the final stretch."

Valérie shifted her gaze to the teenager. She didn’t look annoyed by his blunt assessment. She looked pleased.

"And I will acquire whatever the squad requires during the summer transfer window, Hugo," Valérie assured him. "You secured Champions League revenue. I will spend it. Next season, we do not finish second to anyone."

Valérie turned her attention to Juliette and Talia. She offered a polite nod to both women. "Enjoy the evening. The club has secured a private venue for the post-match reception. I expect you all to attend."

She didn’t wait for a confirmation. Valérie turned and continued her march across the pitch, heading toward Henri to discuss the immediate implications of the victory. Fenrisha followed silently, offering a brief glance toward Luc before disappearing too.

"She is terrifying," Talia whispered to Hugo.

"Nah," Hugo corrected.

The stadium public address system spoke. A voice instructed the SC Valois squad to assemble.

The podium had been constructed.

In the center of the pitch, a massive stage draped in the colors of the Cup de France stood ready. The trophy, a gleaming piece of silver, rested on a pedestal at the front.

"They’re calling us," Luc said.

Juliette stepped back. "Go. Go lift it."

Luc joined the squad as they funneled toward the base of the podium. The players lined up, the exhaustion completely erased by the impending moment.

The stadium announcer began reading the names.

One by one, the SC Valois players climbed the steps. They walked across the stage, shaking hands with the league dignitaries and the tournament officials. The medals were placed around their necks.

Klaus Becker received his medal and took his place on the risers. Cillian Doyle kissed his medal before biting the metal. Gabriel Assis danced his way across the stage, a Brazilian flag draped over his shoulders. Pinto, Amadou, Hadj, Max, Sordell, Zack...the entire squad filed in, building a wall of black and gold behind the central pedestal.

Hugo Blanc walked across the stage, accepted his medal with a polite nod, and took his spot next to Klaus.

Finally, the announcer called the captain.

"Luc Beaumont!"

The away end roared.

Luc climbed the steps. He felt the eyes of his teammates, the coaching staff, and the thousands of supporters locked onto him. He walked past the dignitaries, lowering his head as the official draped the ribbon around his neck. The medal rested against his chest.

He approached the pedestal.

The president of the governing body stood beside the trophy. He extended his hand. Luc shook it, then stepped forward, placing both hands on the smooth, cold handles of the silver cup.

He didn’t lift it immediately.

He gripped the metal, feeling the weight of the entire season compressed into this singular object. He thought about the hicups that had threatened to derail everything. He thought about the tactical shifts Henri had forced them to endure. About conquering Phocéen to secure their position in the table.

He looked back at his squad. Cillian was vibrating with anticipation. Klaus offered a sharp gaze. Hugo stood still, watching and waiting for the moment.

Luc tightened his grip.

He hoisted th silver trophy off the pedestal, stepping forward to the edge of the stage, and thrust it high into the night sky.

The stadium screamed.

Hidden cannons positioned around the perimeter of the stage fired simultaneously. A cloud of gold and black confetti exploded into the air, raining down over the podium. The squad surged forward, swarming Luc, screaming at the top of their lungs as the trophy caught the glare of the stadium floodlights.

The noise was insane.

Luc passed the trophy backward, letting Klaus take the next lift, stepping aside to watch his team revel in the peak of their achievement.

For the next twenty minutes, the pitch was a playground. The players passed the cup around, taking photographs with the away end in the background. The confetti coated the grass, sticking to them.

Slowly, the formal celebration began to wind down. The stadium staff began dismantling the perimeter barricades. The players started filtering back toward the tunnel, carrying the trophy with them, eager to move the party into the sanctity of the dressing room.

Luc lingered on the grass.

He stood with the silver medal resting against his chest. The stadium was nearly empty now. The away fans were being slowly guided out by security. The bright floodlights began to power down in sections, casting peaceful shadows across the turf.

Juliette walked across the grass, her shoes stepping lightly over the scattered gold confetti.

She stopped beside him, slipping her hand into his. Her fingers were warm.

"You stayed out here," Juliette noted, looking out at the empty stands.

"Just taking it in," Luc replied. He didn’t look at the stands. He looked at the grass beneath his boots. The pitch where they had just cemented the beginning of their legacy.

He let out a breath. The Golden Boot..his. The trophy...secured. The twin house...waiting for them.

Luc turned his head, looking up at the dark sky hanging over the capital. He tightened his grip on Juliette’s hand.

"What a way to end the season," Luc said.