Despite missing nearly a month to injury, Adriano's final statistics for 2016-17 were still absurd: 81 goals and 39 assists from 59 matches across all competitions. Numbers that would win the Golden Boot in most leagues, compressed into a season where he'd missed significant time.
More importantly, he won the Ballon d'Or for the second consecutive year, receiving it in a ceremony in Paris with Kate beside him. At just twenty-one years old, he was already being mentioned in conversations with Messi and Ronaldo as one of the greatest players of all time.
His off-field ventures were flourishing too. His early investments in Bitcoin had seemed risky at the time, but cryptocurrency's explosion had turned his initial investment of a few million euros into something approaching a hundred million. Add in his prescient bets on Tesla, Nvidia, and several other tech companies, and his net worth was approaching two billion dollars.
He was wealthier than some club owners. Wealthier than he'd ever imagined possible when he was a broken teenager in Portugal contemplating giving up on football entirely.
"What do you even do with that much money?" Kate asked him one night, lying in bed in their Manchester home.
"Help people," Adriano said simply. "What else is it good for?"
And he did. Quietly, without publicity unless it served to encourage others to donate, he poured money into causes he cared about. Children's hospitals. Youth football programs in Portugal. Refugee assistance in war-torn countries. Scholarships for underprivileged students.
His financial advisor once calculated that he'd donated over a hundred million euros in three years.
"You know you can't save everyone, right?" the advisor had said, concerned.
"I know," Adriano replied. "But I can save some. And that's enough."
*****
The 2016-17 season ended with celebration tinged with sadness. At the post-match press conference after the Champions League final victory, Pellegrini made an announcement that shocked the football world.
"This will be my last match as Manchester City manager," he said, his voice steady but emotional. "I've been advised by my doctors that continuing at this level of stress isn't wise given my heart condition. So I'm retiring from coaching."
The press room erupted in questions, but Pellegrini raised a hand for silence.
"This has been the honor of my career. Three years. Three Champions Leagues. Three Premier Leagues. Every domestic cup. Records that may never be broken. And most of all, working with players of incredible quality and character. I watched the boy I guided blossom into the best player in the world. I couldn't have asked for a better way to end my coaching career."
After the press conference, the team gave Pellegrini a guard of honor as he walked through the tunnel one final time as their manager. Players lined both sides, applauding, many crying openly.
When Pellegrini reached Adriano, he stopped.
"Thank you," the manager said simply. "For everything. For believing in my system. For making my final years in coaching the best of my career."
Adriano hugged him tightly. "Thank you for believing in an 17-year-old kid. You changed my life."
"You changed mine too, son. You changed everyone's."
The Manchester City board moved quickly to secure a replacement. Within a week, they announced Pep Guardiola as the new manager—arguably the most celebrated tactical mind in world football, fresh from a successful spell at Bayern Munich.
The appointment made sense on paper. Guardiola's philosophy aligned with City's desire to play attractive, possession-based football. His trophy cabinet was impressive—multiple league titles, Champions League victories with Barcelona, domestic dominance in Germany.
But there were quiet concerns among some players. Guardiola's system at Barcelona had been built around Messi, with everyone else supporting the Argentine genius. Would he try to replicate that with Adriano? Or would he want to implement his own vision, regardless of the personnel?
Those questions would have to wait. Summer came first. And with it, the most important personal milestone of Adriano's life.
****
Kate had always dreamed of getting married in Rome. Something about the history, the romance, the eternal quality of the city appealed to her. So when they began planning the wedding, Italy was never in question.
They chose the Villa Aurelia, a stunning seventeenth-century estate overlooking the city, with gardens that seemed to stretch forever and views of St. Peter's Basilica in the distance.
The guest list was a who's-who of sports and entertainment. From football: Cristiano Ronaldo, Lionel Messi, Neymar, most of Adriano's Manchester City teammates past and present, the entire Portugal national team. From Hollywood: Kate's Avengers co-stars, Sophia Bush, Henry Cavill, Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, and dozens more.
Henry Cavill served as best man, a role he took very seriously, organizing a bachelor party in London that Adriano would later describe as "legendary and something I'll never speak about publicly."
Sophia Bush was Kate's maid of honor, having been her closest friend since before either of them was famous.
The ceremony itself took place in the villa's gardens at sunset, with two hundred guests seated in elegant white chairs arranged in a semicircle. An string quartet played as guests arrived, the music floating over the grounds.
When Kate appeared at the far end of the aisle, on her father Jeff's arm, Adriano forgot how to breathe for a moment. She wore a simple but elegant white dress, her hair swept up, a radiant smile on her face as she walked toward him.
Jeff delivered her to the altar, shook Adriano's hand firmly, and whispered, "Take care of my daughter."
"I will," Adriano promised. "I swear it."
The ceremony was short but meaningful. They'd written their own vows—Kate going first, her voice steady despite tears streaming down her face.
"Adriano, when I met you three years ago, I thought you were just another cocky athlete. Attractive, sure, but probably shallow. God, was I wrong. You're the most genuine, caring, thoughtful person I've ever known. You've supported my career without ever making it a competition. You've loved my family like your own. You've shown me what real partnership looks like—not one person diminishing themselves for another, but both people lifting each other up."
She paused, composing herself. "You've also made me a football fan, which I never thought possible. I actually understand the offside rule now. That's love."
Laughter rippled through the guests.
"I promise to support you through every triumph and every setback. To be your safe harbor when the world gets too loud. To remind you who you are when fame tries to change you. To love you not because of what you've accomplished, but because of who you are. Today, tomorrow, and every day after. I love you."
Adriano had to wipe his eyes before beginning his vows. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion.
"Kate, I'm a guy who gets paid to kick a ball around a field. Somehow, the universe decided that was worth millions of euros and global fame. But none of that prepared me for the most important thing I'd ever do—being worthy of your love."
He took a deep breath. "You've seen me at my best and my worst. You've celebrated my victories without making them about you. You've picked me up after defeats when I didn't think I could stand. You've dealt with months apart, crazy schedules, constant travel, media intrusion—all the insanity that comes with our lives—without ever complaining."
"I promise to prioritize our marriage over my career. To remember that trophies are temporary but this bond is forever. To support your dreams as fiercely as you support mine. To make you laugh when you're sad, to hold you when you're scared, to be your partner in everything life throws at us."
He smiled through his tears. "I also promise to let you pick the movies we watch, even though you have terrible taste."
More laughter.
"I love you, Kate. You made me believe in happiness again when I'd forgotten what that felt like. Thank you for choosing me. Today, tomorrow, and forever."
The officiant barely got through the "I do's" before they were kissing, to thunderous applause from the guests.
The reception was held in the villa's main ballroom, a spectacular room with frescoed ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens. Dinner was a five-course Italian feast, wine flowing freely, conversation and laughter filling the space.
Adriano's parents, Rosa and Julio, sat at the head table looking overwhelmed by the opulence but radiantly happy. Julio had cried through the entire ceremony, not even trying to hide it.
"My boy," he kept saying to anyone who'd listen. "My boy is married."
Rosa just smiled and held Kate's hand, treating her daughter-in-law with the same fierce protective love she'd always shown Adriano.
Kate's parents, Jeff and Shelly, were equally emotional. Jeff had maintained his military composure through the ceremony but lost it during his father-of-the-bride speech.
"When Katie was little," he said, voice breaking, "I used to tell her she deserved someone who would treat her like a princess. She'd always roll her eyes and say she didn't need a prince, she could take care of herself. And she was right—she never needed rescuing. But Adriano, you've been her partner in the truest sense. You've respected her independence while offering unwavering support. That's all any father can ask for. Welcome to the family, son."
The dancing went late into the night. Adriano and Kate's first dance was to "Thinking Out Loud" by Ed Sheeran, swaying together while guests watched and took photos.
Later, when the party was in full swing, Cristiano Ronaldo found Adriano at the bar.
"Congratulations, brother," Ronaldo said, raising his glass. "She's special. Don't screw it up."
"I'll try not to," Adriano replied with a grin.
"You know what the hardest part is?" Ronaldo's expression turned serious. "Balancing the career and the marriage. The travel, the pressure, the constant attention. It breaks a lot of relationships."
"Yeah, I've thought about that."
"My advice? Make time. Even when it's inconvenient, even when you're exhausted, make time for her. That's what separates the marriages that last from the ones that don't."
"Thanks, Cristiano. I mean it."
They clinked glasses and drank.
Later, Messi approached Adriano on the dance floor.
"Beautiful ceremony," Messi said in his quiet way. "You're a lucky man."
"I know."
"The football will end someday. But if you do it right, the family lasts forever. Remember that."
Adriano nodded, touched that two of his biggest rivals had taken time to offer genuine advice.
As the night wound down, Adriano and Kate snuck away from the reception to walk through the gardens alone. The music from the ballroom drifted faintly on the breeze, stars visible above Rome's ambient glow.
"Best day of my life," Kate said, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"Mine too," Adriano agreed.
"Even better than winning the Champions League?"
"Not even close. This is forever. Football is just what I do. You're who I am."
Kate stopped walking and turned to face him. "I love you so much."
"I love you too. Mrs. Riveiro."
"Mrs. Riveiro," she repeated, testing it out. "I like the sound of that."
They kissed under the Italian stars, beginning their marriage the way they'd begun their relationship—with love, laughter, and absolute certainty that they'd found their person.
The next day, news of the wedding dominated headlines worldwide. Photos of the ceremony (approved ones, carefully selected) appeared in every major publication. The guest list alone generated countless articles.
But the story that truly went viral came from a separate announcement Adriano made that same week.
He was donating one hundred million euros—his entire appearance fee and more from various commercial deals—to a collection of charities focused on children's health, education, and war relief.
The announcement stunned the world. Athletes donated to charity all the time, but this was unprecedented in scale and scope.
A reporter asked him about it during a brief press appearance.
"Why so much? You could have donated a fraction of that and still been praised."
Adriano shrugged, genuinely confused by the question. "I have more than enough money to support myself and my family for the rest of our lives. My kids won't have to work if they don't want to. My parents are taken care of. What am I supposed to do with the rest? Buy more cars I won't drive? More houses I won't live in?"
"But a hundred million—"
"Is just money," Adriano interrupted gently. "The kids in those hospitals? That's real. The refugees fleeing war zones? That's real. Education programs giving poor kids chances they wouldn't otherwise have? That's real. Money sitting in my account doing nothing isn't real. So I'm making it real by using it to help people."
He paused, then added: "I grew up without much. My parents struggled to give me opportunities. I was lucky—I had talent and people who believed in me. But there are millions of kids just as talented, just as hardworking, who'll never get their chance because they were born into the wrong circumstances. If I can change that for even a few of them, the money's worth it."
The interview clip went viral within hours, viewed tens of millions of times across platforms. News networks picked it up. Celebrities shared it. Politicians praised it.
But more importantly, it sparked action. Within a week, the charities he'd donated to reported massive spikes in contributions from ordinary people inspired by his example. The hundred million he gave directly generated an estimated fifty million more from others.
"You've started a movement," Kate told him, scrolling through social media responses while they honeymooned in the Maldives.
"I didn't mean to start anything. I just wanted to help."
"I know. That's why it resonated. You weren't doing it for publicity or tax benefits or PR. You genuinely care. People respond to that."
Adriano was uncomfortable with the praise but grateful for the results. If his donation inspired others to give, then the discomfort was worth it.
The honeymoon was brief—just a week in the Maldives before they both had to return to work. Kate had promotional appearances for Infinity War. Adriano had pre-season training starting.
Their last night in paradise, lying in a beachfront villa under mosquito netting, Kate brought up something that had been on her mind.
"Do you ever think about what comes after?" she asked quietly.
"After what?"
"After football. When you retire. What do you want to do?"
Adriano considered that. "Honestly? I haven't thought that far ahead. Football's all I've known since I was a kid."
"You're twenty-one. You could play another ten, fifteen years at this level."
"Maybe. But I don't know if I want to. The pressure, the constant travel, living in the public eye—it's exhausting sometimes."
"What would make you walk away?"
"If it stopped being fun. If it started feeling like a job instead of a privilege. Or..." he trailed off.
"Or what?"
"Or if I felt like it was hurting us. Our marriage. Our future family. I won't sacrifice our life together for football."
Kate kissed him softly. "I appreciate that. But don't make that decision for me. If you love playing, play. I knew what I was signing up for when I married you."
"I love you."
"I love you too. Now let's enjoy our last night in paradise before real life kicks back in."
They made love slowly, tenderly, savoring every moment of connection before the chaos of their careers separated them again.
Neither of them knew that the next eighteen months would test their relationship in ways they couldn't imagine.
****
Pre-season training under Pep Guardiola began with optimism and quickly developed undercurrents of tension.
Guardiola's first team meeting laid out his vision: a tiki-taka possession system that prioritized short passing, constant movement, and positional rotation. It was brilliant in theory—the philosophy that had led Barcelona to unprecedented success.
But Manchester City wasn't Barcelona. And Adriano wasn't Messi.
The first sign of trouble came during tactical sessions. Guardiola wanted Adriano to play a more central, withdrawn role—similar to Messi's "false nine" position at Barcelona. Drop deep, link play, let wingers run the channels while he orchestrated from behind.
Adriano tried it. He was professional, willing to adapt. But the system neutered his greatest strengths. His explosive pace on the counter-attack. His ability to run at defenders in space. His instinct to be where the ball would arrive rather than where it currently was.
In Guardiola's system, he became a playmaker rather than a destroyer. It wasn't bad, his passing was excellent, his vision world-class. But it made him predictable. Defenders could sit deep, knowing he wasn't going to run in behind them.
City's pre-season results were mixed. They looked possession dominant, controlling matches through sheer technical ability. But they struggled to create clear chances, often settling for long-range shots or speculative crosses.
Then came the first major shockwave.
Vincent Kompany, the club captain and heart of the defense for years, requested a transfer. Sergio Aguero, a Manchester City legend who'd given eight years to the club, did the same.
Both cited similar reasons: they wanted more playing time than Guardiola's rotation system would provide, and they sensed the changing direction of the club didn't align with their remaining career goals.
The fans were devastated. Social media erupted in anger and confusion. How could City let their captain leave? How could they allow Aguero, who'd scored THAT goal against QPR, to walk away?
Internally, tensions were even higher.
Guardiola called a team meeting to address the elephant in the room.
"I know some of you are concerned about the changes," he began. "But evolution is necessary. The football that worked three years ago won't work now. Teams have adapted. We must adapt too."
He outlined his vision: a false nine system with Adriano at its heart, supported by creative wingers and overlapping fullbacks. Silva would remain captain, with Dybala as Adriano's primary backup—both capable of playing the false nine role if needed.
After the meeting, several players approached Adriano privately.
"What do you think?" De Bruyne asked. "You've barely said anything in these tactical sessions."
"I'm trying to be professional," Adriano said carefully. "Give the new system a fair shot before judging it."
"But you don't like it."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. We can all see it. You're not the same player in this system."
Adriano sighed. "Kev, it doesn't matter what I like. He's the manager. We follow his instructions."
"And if his instructions are wrong?"
"Then we lose matches, and the board makes decisions. But that's not on us to determine."
Despite Adriano's attempts to stay neutral, word spread that he was unhappy. Guardiola heard the rumors and confronted him privately.
"Do you have a problem with my system?" Guardiola asked bluntly during a one-on-one meeting.
"I'm adjusting to it," Adriano replied diplomatically.
"That's not what I asked. Do you think it's wrong?"
Adriano chose his words carefully. "I think it's different from what worked before. Whether it's better or worse, we'll find out through results."
"You were more effective in Pellegrini's system."
"I was. But Pellegrini's gone. You're here now. I'm trying to adapt to your vision."
"And if you can't adapt?"
The question hung in the air, loaded with implication.
"Then I'm not as good a player as people think," Adriano finally said.
Guardiola studied him for a long moment. "You're diplomatic. I appreciate that. But I need honesty more than diplomacy. Can you thrive in this system?"
Adriano met his gaze. "With respect, boss—I don't know yet. Ask me after twenty matches, not twenty training sessions."
"Fair enough."
The tension between them didn't disappear, but it became manageable. Both professionals, doing their jobs, keeping personal feelings separate from tactical necessities.
Then came the Mbappé situation.
Real Madrid made a formal offer: fifty million euros for the young French winger who barely broke into first team. It was good money for a player who, despite his obvious talent, was mostly a rotation option at City.
Guardiola wanted to accept. Mbappé's individualistic style—all pace and power and direct running didn't fit the intricate passing system he was implementing.
Adriano disagreed. He went to Guardiola's office to make his case.
"Don't sell Kylian Boss" he said directly. "He's going to be special."
"He doesn't fit what we're building," Guardiola replied.
"Then build around different types of players. Having only one style makes us predictable."
"I've won multiple Champions Leagues with this style."
"With Barcelona. With Messi. With Xavi and Iniesta. This isn't Barcelona, and I'm not Messi."
Guardiola's expression hardened. "Are you questioning my tactics?"
"I'm questioning whether selling our most explosive young player is smart long-term strategy."
"Real Madrid are offering good money—"
"I don't care about the money," Adriano interrupted. "Keep Kylian. He'll repay that faith."
But Guardiola had made his decision. Mbappé was sold to Real Madrid for fifty million euros.
When Adriano heard the news, he went to Mbappé's apartment to tell him personally before the official announcement.
"Real Madrid?" Mbappé's eyes lit up despite the situation. "Seriously? It's my dream to play for them, but I feel not ready yet."
"Yeah. Guardiola accepted their offer despite my words."
Mbappe looked hesitant. "Did you... did you try to stop it?"
"I did. He didn't listen."
Mbappé absorbed that, then smiled sadly. "Thank you for trying. But maybe it's for the best. I wasn't going to get much playing time here anyway with Eden and Mo being so good."
"You would have eventually. You're too good not to."
"Maybe. But at Real? That's a dream come true."
They embraced, both knowing their time as teammates was ending.
"Stay in touch," Adriano said. "And when we play each other, no holding back."
"Never," Mbappé promised with a grin. "Maybe I'll see you in white soon."
Adriano gave him a playful smack. "Manchester is still my home."
The Mbappé sale started rumors that would plague the season: Guardiola and Adriano don't see eye-to-eye. The manager wants to sell the star. The dressing room is divided.
Most of it was exaggerated nonsense. But some of it was uncomfortably true.
The Virgil van Dijk situation made things worse.
Van Dijk, despite being one of the best young center-backs in the world, was struggling for consistent playing time in City's loaded defense. He approached the coaching staff about his situation.
Adriano heard about it and talked to Van Dijk personally.
"Don't leave," Adriano urged. "Your time will come. Vince is gone, Mats is aging. You'll be the foundation of this defense soon."
Van Dijk seemed convinced. He told the club he wanted to stay.
Two weeks later, Guardiola sold him to Real Madrid anyway for 45 million euros, bringing in John Stones from his loan at Malaga and Robert Lewandowski from Bayern Munich.
Adriano was furious. He'd personally convinced Van Dijk to stay, making promises that Guardiola then undermined.
"Why did you sell him?" Adriano confronted Guardiola after training. "He wanted to stay."
"I need players who fit my system and willing to give their all." Guardiola replied coolly. "Van Dijk is excellent, but Stones understands positional play better. Since he wanted to leave, I won't keep aplayer who isn't fully committed."
"So you'd rather have a slightly better fit than a significantly better player?"
"Yes. That's how I build teams."
"So, when will I wake and find out that you sold me as well?" Adriano left that remark before he stormed out, leaving a fuming manager.
It was the first time they'd openly clashed, and teammates noticed. The dressing room began splitting into factions, those who believed in Guardiola's vision and those who thought the changes were unnecessary.
Then came the call from Florentino Perez.
Adriano's phone rang late one evening. Unknown number, but he answered anyway.
"Adriano? This is Florentino Perez."
Adriano sat up straighter, surprised. "Mr. Perez. This is unexpected. Jorge didn't mention anything."
Florentino chuckled. "Hardly. You know I want you to be future of Los Blancos, and I have said it many times. Jorge didn't want to discuss and left the choice to you. Anyway, let's talk professionally. I'll be direct. Are you happy at Manchester City?"
A loaded question. Adriano chose his words carefully. "It's been an incredible four years. I hope to continue the good run."
"That's not what I asked. Are you happy with the current direction?"
"Why are you calling me, Mr. Perez?"
"Because I want to sign you if you are willing. If you're interested in a move, Real Madrid will break Neymar's transfer record. Two hundred and fifty million euros, perhaps more. Whatever it takes. With a playstyle that matches yours, not restrict it."
Adriano's mind raced. Real Madrid. The biggest club in the world. A chance to play with Ronaldo, though for how much longer was unclear considering his age. A fresh start away from the tension with Guardiola.
"I appreciate the interest," Adriano said slowly. "But I'm not planning to move right now. I owe Manchester City at least another season to see how this transition works."
"If circumstances change, will you consider it?"
"If circumstances change, we can talk. But for now, I'm committed to City. I won't talk about transfer until it's necessary."
"Fair enough. The offer stands, Adriano. Whenever you're ready, call me. Madrid needs you, and we will do anything to make you feel at home."
After hanging up, Adriano sat in silence for a long time, thinking.
Kate found him there an hour later, still sitting in the dark.
"You okay?" she asked, concerned.
"Florentino called. They want to sign me."
Kate's expression didn't change. She simply nodded and sat beside him.
"What did you tell them?"
"That I'm not moving. Not yet."
"But you're thinking about it."
"I don't know what I'm thinking," Adriano admitted. "Four years ago, Manchester City gave me a chance when I had everything to prove. They built a team around me, paid me incredibly well, supported me through everything. How can I just leave?"
"They brought in a manager who doesn't value what you do best," Kate pointed out gently. "That changes the equation."
"Maybe I should just adapt better. Be less selfish about my role."
"Or maybe Guardiola should adapt to the players he has instead of forcing everyone into his system."
Adriano looked at her. "You think I should leave?"
"I think you should be happy. That's all I care about. If staying makes you happy, stay. If leaving would make you happier, leave. Don't stay out of guilt or obligation."
"What about you? What would you want?"
Kate smiled sadly. "Honestly? I hate Manchester's weather. It rains constantly, it's always gray, and I'm freezing six months of the year. But I'd live anywhere if it meant being with you and seeing you fulfilled in your career."
Adriano pulled her close. "Thank you. For always being honest."
"That's what partners do."
The conversation with Perez remained private, but word somehow leaked. By the next day, Spanish media were reporting Real Madrid's interest. English papers picked it up. Within a week, it was a full-blown saga.
Guardiola confronted Adriano about it.
"Are you talking to Real Madrid?"
"Perez called me. I told him I'm staying at City."
"For now."
"Yes, for now. Because I want to see how this season goes. Is that a problem?"
"It creates uncertainty. Players wondering if our best player is leaving. That affects morale."
"I didn't leak it to the media," Adriano said sharply. "Someone in your or their organization did. Don't blame me for speculation I didn't create."
The tension escalated from there.
Sheikh Mansour requested a private meeting with Adriano to clear the air.
They met at a café far from the training ground, both wearing sunglasses and casual clothes to avoid recognition.
"Talk to me honestly, Adriano." Mansour began. "What's going on?"
Adriano took a deep breath and laid it all out. The tactical changes that limited his effectiveness. The feeling that Guardiola saw him as a problem to be managed rather than a weapon to be unleashed. The sales of players he'd advocated keeping. The growing sense that he didn't fit the new vision.
"I've tried to adapt," Adriano finished. "I really have. But Guardiola's system requires me to play like Messi at Barcelona—drop deep, orchestrate, let others run in behind. That's not my game. Silva and De Bruyne usually feed me the ball and let me dictate the attack's timing. But now the focus is on passing and wing play, which decreases my threat."
Mansour listened without interrupting.
"I don't want to leave," Adriano continued. "This club gave me everything. But I also don't want to spend my prime years being used incorrectly, my effectiveness diminished because I don't fit someone's preferred system."
"We can fire Guardiola," Mansour said suddenly. "You can choose a new manager and we'll try to work with them. We owe you that much."
Adriano shook his head firmly. "No. That would be a disaster. The media would destroy me—'player gets manager fired.' Other managers would be afraid to come here. Players wouldn't trust me. And honestly, Guardiola's a brilliant coach. His system works, it just works better with different types of players."
"Then what do you propose?"
"I'll stay through this season and honor my contract through 2020 if possible. But I need you to understand—if things don't improve, I might need to consider other options long-term."
"What does that mean for Manchester City?"
Adriano met his eyes. "I've won everything here—three Champions Leagues, three league titles, every domestic cup. The team's too reliant on me, and my teammates are world-class talents who deserve to shine without being in my shadow. Maybe it's time to start thinking about the future, even if that future isn't here."
Mansour was quiet for a long moment.
"Sheikh, I'm not saying I'm leaving. I'm saying we should be realistic about the possibility. I don't want to wake up one day and realize I've wasted years being unhappy."
"If you stay through 2020, we'll make you the highest-paid athlete in the world," Mansour offered.
"It's not about money Sheikh, you know me. I'd have played if you paid me half the wages. It's about being valued and used correctly."
"Noted." Mansour extended his hand. "Stay through the season. Try to see if you can work with him. I'll also talk with him personally. We'll revisit this conversation next summer."
They shook on it, both knowing the situation remained unresolved.
The 2017-18 season began poorly by Manchester City's standards. They won their opening matches but looked unconvincing—grinding out 1-0 victories against teams they'd have demolished 4-0 the previous year.
The possession statistics were impressive: seventy percent, sometimes higher. But possession without penetration is pointless.
Then disaster struck in November.
During the Champions League group match against Monaco, Adriano chased a through ball and felt his hamstring pull. Not a twinge, a full tear.
The medical staff's diagnosis was grim: Grade 2 strain, potentially worse. Normal recovery time: four to five months.
But Adriano's injury resistance attribute helped. After intensive rehab, he would be back in two months—still a long absence, but better than feared.
While he recovered, the team struggled. Guardiola turned to Dybala, who performed admirably but struggled with the Premier League's physical intensity. The Argentine, used to more technical style, found himself bullied by English defenders.
By January, Dybala had requested a transfer to either La Liga or Serie A. Guardiola agreed, and he was sold to Juventus for 40 million euros.
In Adriano's absence, City were eliminated from the League Cup by Leicester and from the FA Cup by Arsenal. They dropped to third in the Premier League, trailing Liverpool and Chelsea.
Guardiola also made another controversial move: signing Ederson from Benfica to replace the goalkeeper position, sending Donnarumma on loan to Lazio.
By February, when Adriano finally returned to training, the season was in crisis.
And then came the Champions League round of 16 against Real Madrid.
The first leg, played at the Bernabeu, was a disaster. City were outplayed, outfought, and outclassed. Mbappé, thriving in Zidane's system, scored twice. Mac Allister added another. City pulled one back through a goal from De Bruyne, but the 3-1 defeat left them with a mountain to climb.
Adriano, still not fully recovered, asked Guardiola if he could sit out the second leg to avoid risking re-injury. With the world cup in a few months, he had to stay fit.
Guardiola's response was sharp: "You need to put the team before your personal concerns. This isn't about glory or statistics. This is about representing the club."
The implication was clear: Guardiola thought Adriano was protecting his fitness for selfish reasons.
Adriano was furious but didn't cause a public scene. The conversation was private, and he kept it that way.
He trained with the team and played in the second leg at the Etihad. Despite not being fully fit, he produced a moment of magic—scoring a goal and providing an assist to make the aggregate score 3-3.
But in the 68th minute, chasing a ball into the corner, Adriano felt the sharp pain in his hamstring again. He signaled immediately to the bench, and Guardiola substituted him.
City pushed desperately for another goal but couldn't find it. The match ended 2-1 on the night, 4-3 on aggregate. Real Madrid advanced on to the quarter finals.
In the post-match press conference, Guardiola made comments that would haunt the rest of the season.
"We need to play as a team rather than relying on a single person. No player is bigger than the club. We must develop a collective approach."
When journalists asked Adriano about the loss and his injury, his response was measured but pointed.
"I wasn't fully fit. But I played because some people thought I was prioritizing personal considerations over the team. Sometimes you sacrifice your body for the cause, even when it might not be wise."
The comment sparked immediate controversy. Reporters pressed for details, but Adriano refused to elaborate.
However, the damage was done. The media narrative shifted to Guardiola forcing an injured player to play, then criticizing the team for relying on that same player.