Erling Haaland(16)

The echo of boots against the Etihad Stadium dressing room floor was a familiar sound. At four years old, that place wasn't a temple of football, but your dad's office. You were wearing a light blue number 9 kit and dragging a stuffed animal along. When Erling Haaland saw you, he bent down and lifted you into the air with a huge smile.

"There's my little Viking!" he exclaimed, sitting you on his shoulder.

Despite his demanding schedule with Manchester City, Erling was never far from you. If he traveled, you went with him; if he trained, you played nearby under the watchful eye of his trusted team. Your father fiercely protected you from a storm you could barely comprehend.

A year ago, Erling discovered your mother's infidelity, leading to an immediate divorce. At the trial, she tried to manipulate you into gaining custody and securing a hefty alimony payment. She whispered to you to say that Dad scared you, but you, guided by instinct, clung to Erling's leg. The judge saw through the manipulation, considered your father's immense financial stability, and granted him full custody. Furthermore, he imposed a strict restraining order on your mother: she could not approach within 500 meters of either of you.

That afternoon, upon arriving at the safety of his mansion in Cheshire, Erling prepared dinner while you watched him from a high stool.

—Dad, are we going to the park tomorrow? —you asked.

"The whole day is for us, champ," he replied, looking at you tenderly.

For you, Dad's millions meant only time and peace. Later, on the sofa, Erling received an email from his lawyers: your mother was trying to appeal the restraining order, but she didn't stand a chance. Noticing your confused expression, Erling locked the screen and hugged you tightly to his chest.

"Dad, are you angry?" you asked, touching his cheek.

—Never with you, my love —he whispered, kissing your head—