Football Dynasty-Chapter 513: An Uncle’s Joy

Chapter 513: An Uncle’s Joy
As Manchester City prepared for their midweek Champions League match, a rare piece of good news finally arrived: Ronaldo had returned to training!
A blessing at the perfect moment.
Richard didn’t waste a second. He drove straight to the hospital, needing to see it with his own eyes. The instant he stepped into the medical wing, he went searching for Dave Fevre.
"How’s his knee? Truthfully."
Fevre removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes before answering. The Alien’s knee was recovering well—better than anyone anticipated. The swelling had subsided, strength tests were promising, and pain levels had dropped significantly.
But there was a catch.
"Physically, he’s almost ready," Fevre said, voice measured. "But mentally... he’s still hesitant. A player who has suffered a severe injury fears the first true sprint, the first duel, the first tackle. That’s what we must overcome."
Richard understood. Ronaldo wasn’t just muscle and bone—he was confidence, swagger, a man who lived to dominate defenders. Without that fire, he wasn’t Ronaldo. Not yet.
"Can he play?" Richard asked quietly.
Fevre paused, weighing responsibility against hope.
"If the situation is stable... he could come off the bench for ten minutes. No more."
Richard nodded. That was enough.
RING~
Richard was just stepping out of the hospital entrance, intending to head home, when his phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the caller ID—his brother.
He answered casually, "Hey, I was just about to—"
But his brother’s frantic voice cut him off mid-sentence.
"Sarah... Sarah is about to give birth!"
Richard froze. His heart skipped.
"What!? Now!?" he blurted, eyes widening.
"Yes! The water just broke! We’re already on the way to Queen Charlotte’s Hospital! Get here quick!"
Richard didn’t even say goodbye. The call ended mid-breath. He spun around and bolted toward the parking area outside the hospital, where his driver and bodyguards waited.
"Queen Charlotte’s Hospital—now!"
Seeing Richard rush out, the driver and bodyguard didn’t hesitate.
"Get in, sir!"
The door slammed shut just as the car accelerated sharply away from the curb.
Richard could barely breathe. His leg bounced restlessly, fingers tapping against the leather seat. He was about to become an uncle. The thought struck him harder than any stadium roar.
Manchester blurred past the windows like streaks of rushing light, and before long, London unfolded before them.
Queen Charlotte’s & Chelsea Hospital appeared ahead. Richard was out of the car before it even fully stopped. He ran through the entrance, took the stairs three at a time, and finally burst into the maternity waiting area.
There—he saw them. His mother, clasping her hands in worry. His father, pacing restlessly. And his brother, hair a mess and eyes wide with anxiety.
"Mum! Dad!" Richard called breathlessly.
His mother rushed to him and hugged him tight. His father squeezed his arm in relief. Then Richard turned to his brother.
"How is she? Is Sarah okay?"
"They took her in already," his brother exhaled shakily. "She’s strong... but the pain is awful. And I can’t do anything except wait."
Richard gripped his brother’s shoulder. "You’re here. That’s everything she needs right now."
Minutes felt like hours.
Richard’s bodyguards returned with coffee for everyone. "Thanks," Richard muttered, helping his father sit and guiding him to breathe deeply. He rubbed his mother’s shoulders when she trembled.
Every now and then, faint cries from the delivery rooms would make them all freeze.
Richard’s eyes landed on a large poster across the waiting room: "Miracles Start Here."
He let out a soft, hopeful smile. Tonight... was a miracle night.
Finally, the doors swung open.
"Family of Sarah," a nurse called gently. "She’s awake now. You can see her."
A doctor approached, lowering her mask, smiling.
"Family of Sarah?"
All four of them jumped to their feet.
"How is she? Is everything alright?" Richard, his father, mother, and brother asked in unison.
"She’s doing very well," the doctor assured them.
They held their breath.
"And... congratulations." Her smile widened. "It’s a healthy baby boy."
His mother burst into joyful tears and hugged Richard. His father let out a long, emotional sigh. His brother covered his face—his shoulders shaking with relief and laughter.
Richard simply stood there, stunned.
A boy. His nephew.
His brother pulled him into a tight hug. "You’re an uncle now, Richard!" he said with a watery grin.
Richard laughed breathlessly. "I... I can’t believe it."
A nurse led them to the nursery.
Small, bundled newborns slept under warm lights... but Richard’s gaze found the newest one instantly.
Tiny. Pink. Perfect.
A little tuft of dark hair. Tiny fists raised as if ready to take on the world.
"That’s him," the nurse said warmly.
Richard stepped forward, heart pounding.
"Hey there... little guy," he whispered.
The baby cracked open one eye—just a tiny peek. Just enough to steal Richard’s heart forever.
The nurse smiled. "Would Uncle like to hold him first?"
Richard blinked. "Me? Are you sure?"
"You’re family," his brother nodded though.
Hands trembling, he slid his arms beneath the baby—lifting him gently. Warmth. Weight. Life.
The world fell completely silent. No chants. No press. No pressure.
Just a tiny heartbeat pressed against his chest. Richard’s eyes burned with emotion he couldn’t hide.
"Welcome to the world, champ," he murmured. "Your uncle’s here."
His parents and brother watched, emotional and proud.
"He’s already comfortable with you," his father said quietly.
Richard smiled, overwhelmed and full of awe.
"No," he whispered. "I’m the one comfortable because of him."
Richard swallowed, glancing down at the tiny miracle in his arms. His brother, Harry approached, eyes shining—still terrified and overjoyed and exhausted all at once.
"I’ll take him," he murmured.
Richard reluctantly handed the baby over, his fingertips lingering for a moment on the warm blanket.
That noon, all of Richard’s acquaintances arrived at the hospital to celebrate. Even Mourinho and O’Neill showed up.
Richard hugged his long-time friend, Fay. "How long has it been since we last met? Your style is totally corporate now, huh?"
The atmosphere was lively. Along the park right near the hospital, Richard treated everyone to coffee and hamburgers. Leaning against the railing, he bit into his burger and joked, "I love beef cheeseburgers! I don’t care if I end up a big guy."
"Hey! If you get fat, you’re doomed! The poster in my bedroom will turn into a mascot picture!" someone teased from the crowd.
Of course, with Richard present — and with people like O’Neill and Mourinho around — they attracted plenty of attention.
A beautiful young fan approached, and Richard signed autographs and took photos, casually chatting as if they were all old friends. They were curious about his personal life — what music he liked, whether he played video games, what movies he watched... and even dared to ask about his relationship status, which was currently... empty.
Aside from a few sensitive topics, Richard answered everything freely. The conversation felt like lighthearted banter rather than anything formal. When movies came up, most of them raved about last year’s new James Bond film. But Richard shook his head.
"To be honest, instead of watching movies, I prefer reading. So I actually loved
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone
last year. You know it?"
Their laughter and excitement carried through the day like sparks of celebration. Nearby, some kids were playing in a little park. A soccer ball suddenly rolled over, and a five- or six-year-old was brought closer to retrieve it.
The fans immediately began chanting. "Show us some skills!"
Feeling the challenge, Richard juggled the ball — surprisingly well. Gasps and cheers erupted. They always knew he was a brilliant player before but few had seen his technique firsthand after he retiring. Encouraged, Richard attempted a fancy trick — only to misjudge the angle completely and launch the ball straight into Fay’s face.
"Ouch—my face!!"
Fay’s dramatic reaction had everyone roaring with laughter.
Richard laughed the loudest and joined the kids for a short kickabout. Their joy was infectious, and the parents nearby smiled, delighted by the simple happiness he brought. Still, he didn’t dare show off more than that. Once done, he signed autographs for a few children wearing Manchester City jerseys.
Richard checked the time — it had already been nearly an hour. He needed to get back to the hospital.
"Alright then, I’ll head back, okay? And you guys — stay in shape and don’t worry about the money. I’ve already paid for everything here." He then turned toward everyone who was eating and drinking. "My nephew was just born, so for everyone here — it’s on me!"
The restaurant burst into surprised murmurs before everyone realized what he had said — then loud cheers erupted in celebration.
Richard turned to Fay and handed him his card."Please help me handle the bill."
"Don’t worry," Fay nodded confidently.
Just as Richard finished speaking, someone tugged gently at his shirt. He turned to see a woman standing there.
"Mr. Richard... may I ask you a favor?"
Richard blinked — taken by surprise. But seeing the seriousness in her eyes, he stepped aside with her.
Her eight-year-old son had broken his arm in a bicycle accident and was scheduled for minor surgery the next day. The boy was a devoted Manchester City fan, and she hoped Richard could give him some courage.
Richard was speechless for a moment. Wasn’t she mistaking him for a player? Surely O’Neill or Mourinho would make more sense!
Still, Richard nodded immediately. He brought Mourinho and O’Neill along and headed to the children’s ward. There, in a corner of the room, they found the boy — sitting all alone.
When his mother called him over, and he saw the three of them approaching, the little fan froze — especially when he recognized Richard.
"Y-you’re Richard... right? And c-coach O’Neil?"
Richard sat beside him, noticing the bulky bandage around the kid’s arm.
The boy nervously spilled out his love for the club — how his bedroom walls were covered in posters of Ronaldo, Larsson, Cafu (ex), Roberto Carlos (Ex), Makelele — City legends frozen in heroic action shots.
Richard smiled and patted his head. "So... surgery tomorrow, huh?"
The boy nodded slowly and Richard pointed to a faint scar near his hairline. "See this?"
"Yeah! How did you get it? Is it a birthmark?"
"Nope. I fell off my bike when I was ten. Needed surgery too. I was so scared I cried like crazy. But you? You’re way braver — you haven’t cried once."
The boy stared wide-eyed. "But... what if the anesthesia doesn’t work? It’ll hurt..."
Richard leaned closer. "Are you a real man?"
"Of course!"
"Do you love your mom?"
"She’s the one I love most!"
"Then listen — I was terrified too... until I saw my mum crying for me. So I told myself — I have to be brave for her. A real man gives courage to the people he loves. Do you know what to do?"
The boy’s expression changed instantly — eyes firm with determination. He suddenly jumped up and ran towards his mother.
"Mum! I’m not scared at all! It’s just a small surgery! I’ll sleep through it, no big deal!"
Richard chuckled, stepping back as the mother wiped happy tears from her eyes.
Mourinho nudged him with a grin. "You really cried?"
Richard smirked. "Honestly? I fainted. When I woke up, the surgery was already done."
Everyone burst into laughter. Richard also smiled.
Spread positive energy. Helping the environment while bringing joy to people—that was enough.