Chapter Three: Seven Minutes, Seventy Million

A news caption announced the accidental death of a Champions League-winning midfielder. Then the image changed. Wolff was alive, dressed in pure black with a hollow circle on his chest. He stood at midfield in a stadium without spectators and faced the camera. “Welcome to Club Zero, Lu Chen. We have waited twenty-seven years for that hand.” The vision ended. Only the air conditioning disturbed the boardroom silence. Lu did not release Wolff's hand. He met the midfielder's eyes. “You cannot sign this contract. On May twenty-ninth, someone is going to kill you.”