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The moment André made the call, Jorge Mendes dropped everything and flew to Oviedo.
The super-agent arrived the following morning, stepping off a private jet with the confidence of a man who owned half of European football's transfer market. In many ways, he did.
"Fernando! Long time no see." Mendes swept into Hierro's office with his characteristic energy, all smiles and sharp suits. "I hear Oviedo's results have been excellent lately. You must be in a wonderful mood."
Hierro shook his head, recognising the teasing undertone immediately. Mendes never showed up anywhere without an agenda. Every smile was calculated. Every word was a chess move.
"Let's skip the pleasantries, Jorge. You know why I asked you here. I need your help."
Mendes raised an eyebrow, affecting surprise. "My help? Mr. Fernando, surely you've made a mistake. I'm André's agent, not yours. My loyalty lies with my client."
"Jorge, André is a generational talent. You wouldn't want someone like that ending up at just any random club, would you? Surely not some mid-table La Liga side that happens to wave the biggest cheque."
"But doesn't a team offering a high price mean they value him more?" Mendes spread his hands innocently, the picture of reasonableness. "I can't see how helping you serves my client's interests. If anything, I should be working with those clubs—using their offers to pressure Oviedo into accepting a bigger deal."
Hierro studied the man across from him. The "shark of European football" they called him. The most powerful agent in the world. The man who had guided Cristiano Ronaldo's career from teenage prodigy to global superstar. Looking at that calculating smile, Hierro briefly wondered if reaching out to this guy had been a mistake.
Everyone said agents' hearts were dirty, he thought. But this one's heart isn't exactly sparkling clean either.
He pressed on anyway.
"Jorge, I want you to use your connections. Push André's name out there—to clubs outside Spain. The Premier League, the Bundesliga, Serie A. Let the big boys know he's available. The more options he has, the better position we're all in."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Mendes wagged a finger, grinning like a cat who'd spotted a mouse. "So that's your game, Fernando. You want to start a bidding war. Drive up the price by creating international competition."
Mendes was no longer the hungry young agent he'd been when Cristiano first burst onto the scene at Sporting Lisbon. He was older now, shrewder, infinitely more connected. He understood Hierro's true intention the moment the words left his mouth.
"Jorge, I don't think La Liga is the right destination for André at this stage of his career."
"Hmph." Mendes laughed outright. "You mean the price isn't right for André. Don't dress it up, Fernando. We're both professionals here."
Whatever they discussed after that remained between the two of them. Negotiations. Percentages. Strategies. The dark arts of football business that never made it into newspapers.
But when Mendes finally left Hierro's office an hour later, he was smiling broadly. And when Hierro leaned back in his chair after the door closed, he was smiling too.
They had reached an understanding.
"José! How are things?"
Mendes made the call the moment he left Oviedo, already thinking three moves ahead as his car pulled away from the training ground.
"You already know my situation, Jorge." José Mourinho's voice was dry, amused. He'd finished his tenure as Manchester United's head coach several weeks ago, and the enforced leisure time was clearly wearing on him. "You only call when you want something. What is it this time?"
"I just sent a video to your email. I've discovered a genius—I want your professional opinion."
"Bullshit." Mourinho laughed outright. "You're full of lies, as always. It's André Cristiano, isn't it? The kid everyone's talking about. Ronaldo's cousin."
"Hah! So you already knew. Yes, it's him."
"Didn't you sign him ages ago? Why are you calling me? I'm not the Manchester United manager anymore—as you well know. I can't imagine what help I could possibly offer."
Mendes explained Hierro's situation in detail—the owner's ultimatum, the need to maximise the transfer fee, the plan to create international competition for André's signature. He laid out the strategy like a general explaining a military campaign.
Mourinho listened in silence, occasionally grunting acknowledgement.
"So Fernando can't keep him," he said finally. "What about the release clause? If he really wanted to protect the kid, surely no club would pay an astronomical release clause for a sixteen-year-old."
"José, Fernando is just a head coach—like you. Not the owner. He doesn't control the purse strings or the final decisions. And for a small club like Oviedo, the owner doesn't dare gamble on future value. When there's a chance to cash out now, he takes it. That's how small clubs survive."
"Why is Fernando even helping an owner like that? Won't it just make the man more greedy in the future?"
"Banches promised to reinvest more than half the fee into the team's squad. So the higher the transfer price, the more money stays at the club for signings. Fernando's thinking long-term—about promotion, about building something. He's using this situation to benefit Oviedo as much as possible."
There was a pause on the line.
"Alright," Mourinho said at last. "I understand. I'll send the video to some contacts—clubs who might be interested. Managers I know. Sporting directors. As for results, I can't promise anything. I'm not exactly in a position of power right now."
"While I have you, José—Tottenham have been in touch with me. They want to hire you as their new manager."
"Damn it, Jorge, I just started my vacation! Don't you think this is inappropriate timing?" But there was a smile in Mourinho's voice. The prospect of a new challenge always excited him. "We'll talk about Spurs after I've rested properly. That's enough for today. You always find ways to make me work, even when I'm supposed to be relaxing."
The line went dead.
The day after Mendes and Mourinho's conversation, the transfer rumours around André exploded across European media.
Spain's Marca broke the story first, splashing it across their front page: according to sources within Real Oviedo, interest in André Cristiano had expanded far beyond La Liga. Juventus from Serie A, Bayern Munich from the Bundesliga, and three Premier League giants—Manchester United, Chelsea, and Manchester City—had all submitted formal bids.
Marca also reported that Manchester City's offer stood at a remarkable twenty million euros.
Real Oviedo declined to comment. No confirmation. No denial. Radio silence.
Most La Liga clubs and industry insiders dismissed the report as a transparent ploy—Oviedo manufacturing fake interest to inflate the asking price. Classic negotiating tactics. Everyone in football had seen it a hundred times before. Even Atlético Madrid, currently the highest bidders at sixteen million, chose not to respond. The game was simple: wait and see who lost patience first. Don't let yourself get dragged into a manufactured auction.
But then something unexpected happened.
At a post-match press conference following a Premier League fixture, a Spanish journalist asked Pep Guardiola directly about André Cristiano.
The Manchester City manager's response was unequivocal.
"We have indeed submitted a bid to Real Oviedo," Guardiola confirmed, looking directly at the camera. "André is an outstanding talent—a genius, truly. I believe he represents exactly what Manchester City needs for the future of this club."
When pressed about the reported twenty-million figure, Guardiola smiled and deflected smoothly. "Commercial secrets," he said. "I cannot discuss specific numbers." Neither confirming nor denying the exact amount.
The football world went into a frenzy.
The very next day, Bayern Munich's coach Niko Kovač was asked an almost identical question. He flatly denied any interest from his club. "Bayern are not pursuing this player," he said firmly.
In the days that followed, every manager mentioned in Marca's report faced the same interrogation at their press conferences. Some confirmed their club's interest. Others, like Kovač, denied it outright. Some dodged the question entirely.
Truth mixed with lies. Reality blurred with manipulation. Genuine offers tangled with manufactured rumours. And the transfer saga surrounding André Cristiano became the most talked-about story of the European winter window.
The La Liga clubs panicked.
Especially Atlético Madrid.
If Premier League money was genuinely entering the picture—if Guardiola himself was confirming interest—they couldn't afford to wait any longer. The English clubs could outbid anyone in Spain without breaking a sweat.
Almost immediately after Guardiola's press conference confirmation made the evening news, Hierro received a second bid from Atlético Madrid.
Twenty-one million euros.
A five-million increase overnight.
And this time, Atlético didn't just contact the club. They reached out to Mendes directly, requesting a face-to-face meeting with André himself.
The bidding war had officially begun.
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