The training complex at La Turbie loomed above Monaco like a fortress—its modern glass façade and perfectly manicured pitches contrasting with the endless blue of the Mediterranean in the distance. At 1:30 PM, players began arriving in sleek, expensive cars with tinted windows, designer bags slung over their shoulders, and sunglasses shielding eyes still heavy from celebration, sleep, or perhaps a mix of both.
Demien watched from his office window as they gathered near the entrance. Giuly was the first to arrive, ever punctual and setting the standard as captain. Rothen and Evra followed, laughing about something only they understood. Morientes pulled up in a modest sedan that belied his star status. One by one, the architects of last night's victory assembled, the atmosphere light yet focused.
They all knew what lay ahead. The rhythm of football allowed no time for prolonged celebration.
