They settled into the living room, the smell of spices and home-cooked warmth drifting in from the kitchen.
It didn’t take long for Sofía to call them all over to eat, the table already neatly set with plates of steaming food.
Leo sat beside Mia while the three men took their places across from them, and for a few minutes, the conversation was light, mostly about the food, small jokes, and casual chatter.
Leo found himself relaxing slightly, even if he knew the real discussion was still looming ahead.
It was Dawson who shifted the conversation after a while, setting down his fork and leaning back slightly in his chair.
"Well," he began, glancing briefly at Mister Xavier and Malachi before turning back to Sofía.
"I guess it’s time we stop dancing around it."
Sofía raised an eyebrow, her expression calm but curious.
"I just wanted to personally tell you, ma’am, and Leo too, how impressed we’ve been. In the month he’s been with Wigan’s U21s, Leo’s made massive strides — more than we dared hope for. Physically, mentally, tactically... he’s caught up faster than anyone we’ve seen in a long time."
Leo shifted slightly in his seat, a little embarrassed by the praise, but he kept quiet.
"Of course," Dawson continued, flashing a small grin toward Leo, "there’s still work to be done — particularly with shooting — but even there, he’s shown he’s not just willing to improve. He’s already improving."
Sofía listened intently, a hand resting gently on Mia’s shoulder.
When Dawson finished, she nodded thoughtfully.
"That’s good to hear," she said. "Leo’s worked hard for this."
"He has," Malachi chimed in, his voice steadier, more businesslike.
"And that’s part of the reason why we’re sitting here today."
The meal finished soon after, and Sofía stood to start clearing the plates.
Mia hopped up, too, but before she could follow, Sofía gave her a small nudge toward the hallway.
"Go on, Mia," she said gently. "Homework."
"Aww, but—" Mia pouted, throwing Leo a pleading look.
Leo chuckled, giving her a wink.
"Go on, Mia. I’ll tell you everything later."
Reluctantly, Mia trudged off to her room, leaving the adults alone in a now quieter living room.
Dawson waited until he heard the soft click of Mia’s door before reaching into his bag and pulling out a neat folder, thick with papers but neatly organized, resembling the one Leo had shown Sofia.
He placed it gently on the coffee table between them.
"And now," he said, looking straight at Sofía, "let’s talk about Leo’s future."
Sofía leaned back slightly, clasping her hands together on the table, her posture calm but alert.
Leo sat beside her, bouncing his knee beneath the table, his nerves simmering.
Jones Xavier laid the folder down carefully, flipping it open to the first page.
Dawson spoke first, his tone professional but friendly.
"Over the past month, Leo’s progression has been monitored closely by all levels of the club. Based on his performance — and his potential — we want to offer him a pre-professional contract leading into a full pro deal once he turns eighteen, which is in about 11 months."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"The starting salary is four thousand pounds per week. The standard youth wage for players earmarked for eventual first-team promotion is mostly between One Thousand, Seven Hundred pounds to Two Thousand, Five Hundred Pounds a week, depending on their potential."
"Leo’s Salary reflects the faith we have in him since his Salary is already on par with some of the first team members," Dawson continued.
Sofía nodded slightly, her face giving away little.
She reached for the papers, scanning them, eyes narrowing faintly at certain lines.
"I’ve been doing a bit of reading these past few weeks," she said, her voice polite but firm.
"And I understand that pre-professional contracts often come with clauses... appearance fees, goal bonuses, termination conditions."
Jones’s smile tightened slightly.
"Of course. Everything’s standard."
Sofía lifted her gaze slowly.
"I’d like to go over them."
There was a brief flicker between the three men — Dawson, Malachi, and Jones — before Jones gestured for her to proceed.
She flipped a few pages.
"For instance," she said, tapping one paragraph, "the release clause. Twenty million pounds for a youth player — isn’t that unusually high? Should Leo excel faster than expected, this could be a barrier to better opportunities, no?"
Dawson and Malachi exchanged a glance, impressed despite themselves.
Jones cleared his throat, "We set it high to deter early poaching. But," he added diplomatically, "it’s negotiable after one year, depending on his development."
Sofía nodded slowly, accepting the answer — but not backing off entirely.
"And appearance bonuses — currently, there’s no additional incentive until he’s played ten matches with the first team," she continued.
"I’d like a clause that grants bonuses per individual appearance starting from his first senior debut."
Jones arched a brow but didn’t argue.
"Reasonable. We can amend that."
Sofía smiled thinly, sharp in a way Leo had never seen before.
"And the image rights?"
Now, even Dawson chuckled lightly.
"You’ve really done your homework," he said, genuine admiration slipping through.
"We’re willing to negotiate image rights if Leo’s profile grows. For now, the club retains partial rights but would revisit once he breaks into regular first-team football."
Leo stared between them all, half in awe and half in disbelief.
This wasn’t just a formality.
His aunt was fighting for him, making sure he wasn’t just being carried along blindly.
Sofía tapped her nails lightly against the table, thinking.
"Then I’m willing to proceed, on the condition that these amendments are written in properly."
Jones nodded, pulling out his phone.
"I’ll contact legal and have the draft updated. Shouldn’t take more than a day."
Sofía finally relaxed a little, pushing the papers back gently toward Jones.
"Thank you. We just want to make sure Leo’s future isn’t shackled unnecessarily."
"You’re doing right by him," Malachi said with an approving nod.
"Believe me — we want Leo to grow, not trap him."
Finally, Leo found his voice.
"So... it’s happening?" he asked the words escaping almost in a whisper.
Dawson smiled at him warmly.
"It’s happening, kid. Get ready — your journey’s just starting."