The temperature in the boardroom at Carrington felt like it had risen five degrees.
It wasn't the air conditioning—it was the heat of a brewing storm. Tension crackled in the room like static before a thunderclap. Ed Woodward, Executive Vice-Chairman of Manchester United, stood by the head of the long glass table, his suit jacket hanging off the back of a chair. His sleeves were rolled up, his expression thunderous, his forehead lightly glistening with frustration-fueled sweat. He was pressed, deeply pressed.
The boardroom wasn't silent, far from it. It was chaos cloaked in professionalism, and each man in the room handled it in his own distinct, desperate way.
Richard Fairclough, the Head of Communications—PR chief, fixer, spin doctor—was pacing near the window with his phone jammed to his ear. His voice was low but urgent, a practiced whisper of negotiation honed from years of turning disasters into clickbait victories.
