The calls began before Marcus had finished his morning run.
His phone buzzed against his thigh as he jogged along the quiet road, vibrating so often it felt alive. He ignored it at first, focusing on his breathing, the rhythm of his feet hitting the ground. But by the time he reached the park, the screen was lit with missed calls, messages stacked on messages.
Unknown numbers. International codes. Names he recognized from sports news, brands he had only ever seen on billboards and television screens.
He sat on the edge of the court and scrolled.
"Marcus, this is Daniel from Apex Sports Management. We would love to talk."
"Congratulations on last night. This is GlobalFit. We think your story aligns perfectly with our brand."
"European club interested. Serious offer. Call back as soon as possible."
Marcus let the phone drop beside him. For a long moment, he just stared at the cracked concrete beneath his feet.
This was the part no one prepared you for.
By midday, Hammond called him into the office. The old man was seated behind his desk, papers spread out like a dealer's hand. Contracts. Emails. Printed messages from agents and club representatives.
"They came fast," Hammond said calmly. "Faster than I expected."
Marcus sat across from him. "How serious is it?"
Hammond slid one folder forward. "Very serious. Two top-tier clubs in Europe. One from the States. Long-term contracts. Proper money. Not promises."
Marcus opened the folder slowly. The numbers made his stomach tighten. Not because they were small, but because they were more than he had ever imagined.
"And sponsors?" Marcus asked.
Hammond allowed himself a thin smile. "Left, right, and center. Shoes, sports drinks, fitness brands, even a watch company. They all want the same thing."
"What?"
"Your story," Hammond said. "The fall. The comeback. The discipline. They don't just want a player. They want a symbol."
That word landed heavy.
By evening, Marcus was sitting in a clean, modern office downtown, glass walls and soft lighting, the kind of place that smelled like money. A woman in a tailored suit spoke confidently, sliding a glossy brochure toward him.
"You resonate with people," she said. "Not just fans. Parents. Young athletes. People who think they messed up their one chance. We want you as the face of our next campaign."
She named a figure that made Marcus blink.
"And this is just year one," she added.
He nodded politely, asked the right questions, said he would think about it. That became his answer to everyone that day.
I'll think about it.
Outside, the city felt louder than ever. Cars, voices, flashing screens. Everywhere he turned, someone seemed to recognize him.
"Marcus!"
"Hey, national hero!"
"Man, you changed everything!"
He smiled, waved, kept walking.
That night, he sat with Lena on a quiet bench near the river. The water reflected the city lights in broken lines, like a future that refused to be straight.
"They are offering me everything," Marcus said finally.
Lena looked at him. "And how does that feel?"
"Exciting," he admitted. "Terrifying. Like standing on the edge of something that could either lift me or swallow me whole."
She was quiet for a moment. "My parents are suddenly very interested in your matches," she said softly. "My father asked which club you might sign for."
Marcus let out a short laugh. "Funny how fast things change."
"Yes," she said. "But I worry they are seeing the contracts, not the man."
Marcus leaned back, staring at the sky. "I worry about that too."
Later that night, Adrian called.
Marcus hesitated before answering.
"Looks like you're in demand," Adrian said. His voice was controlled, careful. "Agents called me today asking what kind of teammate you are."
"And what did you tell them?" Marcus asked.
Adrian paused. "That you're dangerous. In the right way."
Marcus said nothing.
Adrian continued, "We might end up in the same locker room somewhere bigger than this. Just know one thing. Out there, talent is everywhere. Discipline is rare. Fame eats people alive."
"I know," Marcus said.
"Do you?" Adrian replied. "Because this is where careers get lost."
The line went quiet.
When Marcus lay in bed later, the phone finally still, the silence felt heavier than the noise had been. Opportunities were no longer knocking. They were lining up, impatient.
Bigger teams.
Bigger money.
Bigger stages.
But also, bigger traps.
He closed his eyes and pictured the old version of himself, stumbling home with empty pockets and a heavy head. He pictured the man he was becoming, built on early mornings and hard choices.
Tomorrow, he would start deciding.
Not which offer paid the most.
But which one let him stay whole.