Real Madrid didn't waste any time after securing Adriano's signature. Within days of finalizing his deal, they moved aggressively to acquire two young talents from Manchester City's academy: Jude Bellingham and Erling Haaland.
The deals were completed quietly—Bellingham for 15 million euros with significant sell-on clauses, Haaland for 30 million under similar terms. Both players were still teenagers, largely unknown outside of youth football circles, so the transfers didn't generate massive headlines initially.
But football scouts and analysts immediately recognized the significance.
"This is brilliant business," wrote Miguel Delaney in The Independent. "Real Madrid are securing two potential world-class talents before they've proven themselves at the senior level. The fees are reasonable, the upside is enormous, and it signals a philosophical shift from the traditional Galáctico approach of buying established stars to a more sustainable model of developing young talent."
Only Haaland was deemed ready to join the first team immediately, with his age, physical maturity and goal-scoring instincts suggesting he could contribute right away. Bellingham would spend another year with the Castilla youth team, developing and adapting to Spanish football before making the step up.
City fans were furious about losing the young prospects, seeing it as yet another consequence of Adriano's departure and the club's shifting priorities under Guardiola.
"First we lose promising stars, now our best academy kids," one fan tweeted. "What the fuck is happening to this club?"
But their anger was nothing compared to what came next.
On July 15th, Real Madrid announced the departure of Cristiano Ronaldo to Juventus for 105 million euros—a staggering fee for a 33-year-old player, but one Juventus were willing to pay for his name, his goals, and his winning mentality.
The Madrid fanbase erupted in fury and heartbreak.
The #PerezOut hashtag trended worldwide. Thousands gathered outside the Bernabéu in protest. Season ticket holders threatened to cancel their memberships. The club's official social media accounts were flooded with angry comments in Spanish, English, Portuguese, and every other language imaginable.
"HOW DARE YOU SELL RONALDO!" one widely-shared post read. "He gave you 3 Champions Leagues! He's the greatest player in club history! This is betrayal!"
"Florentino has lost his mind," another said. "Selling Cristiano at 33 when he's still scoring 40+ goals a season? For what? To save money? We're Real Madrid—we don't need to save money!"
The criticism was relentless and vicious. Pérez couldn't appear in public without being jeered. Board members faced calls for resignation. Even players who'd never played with Ronaldo felt compelled to comment on the loss.
The club's official statement tried to frame it positively: "Cristiano Ronaldo will always be a legend at Real Madrid. We wish him nothing but success at Juventus and thank him for nine incredible years of service."
But the fans weren't buying it. The prevailing sentiment was clear: Real Madrid had made a catastrophic mistake.
Some tried to find silver linings. "At least we still have Mbappé," one fan posted on a Real Madrid forum. "He's young, fast, talented. Maybe he can fill the gap Ronaldo leaves."
But even that hope came with doubt. Mbappé was just starting to shine after his move from Manchester City the previous summer. He'd shown flashes of brilliance—electric pace, clever movement, clinical finishing in moments—but he was still developing, still years away from being the finished product.
Could a 19-year-old really replace a legend? Could anyone?
The question hung over Madrid like a storm cloud as July dragged on. The pre-season tour began with the shadow of Ronaldo's departure looming over everything. Training sessions were somber. Press conferences were dominated by questions about the Portuguese superstar rather than the upcoming season.
Pérez stopped appearing in public. Zidane faced the media alone, deflecting criticism as best he could while trying to maintain squad morale.
"Cristiano was incredible for us," Zidane said at a press conference in Munich during the pre-season tour. "But football continues. We have an excellent squad. We will compete for every trophy. I ask for patience as we transition. We plan a restructure of the team."
"Patience for what?" a Spanish journalist challenged. "You've sold one of the best players in the world and replaced him with... who exactly? Where are the reinforcements?"
"You'll see," Zidane replied cryptically. "Soon."
That answer only fueled more speculation and anger. Then came the waiting part. Real Madrid's website had been teasing a major announcement for days, with cryptic posts that drove fans into a frenzy of speculation.
"BIG NEWS COMING" read one post.
"THE WAIT IS ALMOST OVER" read another.
"SOMETHING SPECIAL IS ON THE HORIZON" promised a third.
The official Real Madrid Twitter account changed its banner to a silhouette of a player against a white background, with the caption: "GUESS WHO?"
Fans debated furiously across social media platforms.
"It has to be Adriano," some argued. "Nothing else makes sense. We sell Ronaldo, we need a replacement at that level, Adriano's the only option."
"No way," others countered. "Adriano just won the World Cup and has been rejecting a move to stay in Man City. He's not leaving. This is probably Hazard or someone from other top clubs. Maybe Salah."
"You're both wrong," a third faction insisted. "It's Neymar. Has to be. Only transfer big enough to justify this hype."
"He just left to PSG couple seasons ago mate. The won't sell him so soon.
The speculation reached a fever pitch on July 28th when Real Madrid's website went dark for six hours with only a countdown timer visible. When the timer hit zero, the site would reveal the mystery signing.
Millions of people worldwide refreshed the page obsessively as the final seconds ticked down.
5... 4... 3... 2... 1...
The screen went white.
Then, slowly, an image began to load from top to bottom.
Sky blue jersey. Number 10. Familiar face grinning at the camera.
And text in bold white letters:
"WE ARE HAPPY TO ANNOUNCE THAT THE BEST CLUB IN THE WORLD HAS SIGNED THE BEST PLAYER IN THE WORLD!"
The image fully loaded: Adriano standing in the center, holding two World Cup trophies—one in each hand. Arranged around him on the ground: three Champions League trophies, three Premier League trophies, and the La Liga and Copa del Rey trophies he'd won with Malaga all those years ago.
The caption beneath read:
"TODAY, A NEW ERA BEGINS FOR REAL MADRID. WELCOME, ADRIANO RIVEIRO, TO REAL MADRID! THE FUTURE IS PROMISING!"
The internet exploded.
Twitter crashed for hours from the sheer volume of tweets. Instagram's servers struggled under the load. Reddit's r/soccer became temporarily inaccessible. News websites scrambled to update their front pages.
Within an hour, "ADRIANO TO REAL MADRID" was trending in every country on Earth. The transfer dominated global headlines—not just sports sections, but front pages of major newspapers. It was THE story.
*****
Manchester City's fanbase went through the five stages of grief in real-time across social media.
Denial:
"This is fake. Has to be. Photoshopped. City would never sell him. NEVER."
"It's a hack. Real Madrid's website got hacked. This isn't real. Please don't let this be real."
"I'm waiting for City's official denial. Any minute now. They'll say it's false. Right? RIGHT?!"
Anger:
"FUCK PEP GUARDIOLA! This is HIS fault! He pushed Adriano away! He ruined our perfect team!"
"I will NEVER forgive the board for this. Never. They sold our KING. Our FUCKING KING to Real Madrid!"
"250 million?! I don't care if it's a world record! You can't put a price on greatness! We just lost the best player we'll EVER have!"
Bargaining:
"Can we cancel it? Is there a way to cancel it? Offer him more money? Give him ANYTHING he wants?"
"I'll donate my entire salary if it keeps him. Start a GoFundMe. We'll buy him back. Whatever it takes."
"Please, Adriano. Please reconsider. We need you. We LOVE you. Don't leave us."
Depression:
"I can't believe this is happening. After everything. After the perfect season. After three Champions Leagues. He's just... gone."
"Four years. Four perfect years. And now it's over. Nothing will ever be the same."
"I'm genuinely crying right now. Not even ashamed. This hurts worse than any breakup I've ever had."
Acceptance (sort of):
"He gave us everything. Three Champions Leagues. Three league titles. Records that will never be broken. We can't be mad at him for wanting a fresh start."
"I hate this. I hate everything about this. But I understand it. Guardiola's system didn't suit him. He played through injury for us. If Real Madrid makes him happy, then... fuck. I guess I'm happy for him."
"We'll always have the memories. The perfect season. The last-minute goals. The trophy celebrations. Nobody can take those away from us. Thank you, Adriano. For everything."
The Manchester City official supporters' club organized an emergency meeting that drew over 5,000 fans to a convention center in Manchester. The atmosphere was part funeral, part angry protest.
"This is unacceptable!" shouted one supporter from the microphone. "We DEMAND the board explain why they sold our best player! We DEMAND accountability!"
The crowd roared agreement.
"If the choice is between Guardiola and Adriano, I choose Adriano EVERY TIME!" another fan yelled. "Sack the bald fraud! He's destroyed this club in ONE SEASON!"
"SACK PEP! SACK PEP! SACK PEP!" the chant began, spreading through the crowd like wildfire.
A third supporter, an elderly man who'd been attending City matches since the 1960s, took the microphone with shaking hands.
"I've been a City fan for sixty years," he said, voice thick with emotion. "I've seen us in the Third Division. I've seen bankruptcy. I've seen humiliation after humiliation. Then, four years ago, a miracle happened. A young Portuguese kid came to Manchester and made us the best team in the world. Not just good—the BEST. We won EVERYTHING."
He paused, wiping his eyes.
"And now we've thrown it away. For what? For a manager's ego? For a tactical system? We had perfection, and we sold it for 250 million euros. You can't put a price on greatness. You just can't."
The room fell silent, everyone absorbing the painful truth.
Even rival fans, despite their tribal hatred, acknowledged the magnitude of City's loss.
"As a United supporter, I'm DELIGHTED City sold their best player," one fan posted on RedCafe forum. "But even I have to admit—this is the dumbest transfer decision I've ever seen. You don't sell the best player in the world when he's only 22. You just don't."
"Liverpool fan here," another posted. "Adriano terrorized us for four years. I hated playing against him. But I respected the hell out of him. City are idiots for letting him go. Makes our job easier though!"
Football managers weighed in too, unable to resist commenting on such a seismic transfer.
José Mourinho, newly appointed at Tottenham, was characteristically blunt in his first press conference.
"I thought Pep was smart," Mourinho said, a slight smirk on his face. "But he just made the dumbest decision of his career. Maybe his life. If I had Adriano Riveiro, I would design my entire tactics around him. Build everything to maximize his strengths.
But Pep? He tried to change Adriano instead of changing his system. Arrogance. And now Real Madrid benefit from that arrogance. Pep made my job much easier this season."
Jürgen Klopp was more diplomatic at his Liverpool presser, but the subtext was clear.
"Managers have the final say about their teams, and they must bear the consequences of their decisions. I cannot tell you if this is good or bad for Manchester City, only time will reveal that.
But I can say this: if it were me, if I had Adriano in my squad, I would do absolutely everything to figure out a solution that includes him. Everything. Because players like that... they don't come around often. Maybe once in a generation. You don't let them walk away if you can possibly avoid it."
Even Mikel Arteta, Arsenal's new young manager, couldn't resist commenting despite having no personal connection to the situation.
"I played against Adriano when he first arrived in the Premier League," Arteta said with a wry smile. "I was a veteran player, supposedly experienced and intelligent. He ran circles around me. Made me look like I'd never played football before. Any team that has a player like that has already scored one goal before the match even begins. That's the advantage he provides.
So letting him go in his peak just to prove a philosophical point about tactics? That's not smart management. That's ego. If I'd known this would happen, I would've told Arsenal's board to sell the stadium if necessary to sign him."
Football talk shows devoted entire episodes to analyzing the transfer from every conceivable angle.
On Sky Sports, Gary Lineker opened the show by simply holding up a Real Madrid shirt with "Adriano 10" on the back.
"What do you even say?" Lineker asked his panel of Thierry Henry, Jamie Carragher, and Roy Keane. "How do you make sense of this?"
"You don't," Henry replied, shaking his head. "Manchester City just sold the player who brought them three Champions Leagues. The player who gave them a perfect season. The player who is, without question, the best in the world right now. And they sold him because... what? He didn't fit the manager's preferred system? That's insane."
Carragher nodded. "I've been critical of City's spending over the years. Everyone knows that. But this? This isn't about money. They received 250 million, sure, but that money is useless if you can't replace what you've lost. And you cannot replace Adriano Riveiro. He's irreplaceable."
Even Roy Keane, famously difficult to impress, looked genuinely baffled.
"I don't understand it," Keane admitted. "In my day, you built teams around your best players. You accommodated them. You made sacrifices to keep them happy because that's how you win trophies. Now apparently you sell them if they don't fit your 'philosophy'? Bollocks. Absolute bollocks. If I were a City fan, I'd be furious."
The British tabloids, many of which had spent last season criticizing Adriano saying he's declining, suddenly changed their tune completely.
"PREMIER LEAGUE LOSES ITS KING" screamed The Sun's headline.
"The day English football got worse," declared The Mirror's editorial.
"We didn't appreciate him enough while he was here," admitted The Daily Mail's chief sports columnist. "We nitpicked his performances, questioned his commitment, compared him unfairly to Messi and Ronaldo for his transfer fee. Yet he proved us wrong. And now he's gone, and the Premier League is measurably worse for it."
*****
While Manchester mourned, Madrid fans partied.
Real Madrid fans had gone from fury over Ronaldo's departure to absolute euphoria over Adriano's arrival in the span of two weeks. The emotional whiplash was extreme but welcome.
"I WAS CRYING TEARS OF SADNESS, NOW I'M CRYING TEARS OF JOY!" one fan posted on the official Real Madrid forum. "AR10 in the white jersey! This is actually happening! I keep pinching myself!"
"I was ready to cancel my season ticket after Ronaldo left," another admitted. "I was done with Pérez, done with the board, ready to walk away. Then this happened. I've never been happier to be proven wrong. WE HAVE THE BEST PLAYER IN THE WORLD!"
"Suck it, Barcelona!" posted a third with barely concealed glee. "You have Messi? Cool. We have the FUTURE. Adriano is 22. TWENTY-TWO. He's going to be here for a decade. We're set for the next era of football dominance!"
The celebrations in Madrid were spontaneous and massive. Thousands of fans gathered at Plaza de Cibeles—the traditional celebration spot for Real Madrid trophies—even though no trophy had been won. They just needed to celebrate together.
Flags waved. Smoke bombs filled the air with white clouds. Chants echoed off the surrounding buildings: "Adriano! Adriano! Adriano!"
One group of fans had already printed shirts with "Adriano 10" on the back. Another had created a massive banner reading "THE KING HAS COME TO HIS KINGDOM."
"I already bought my jersey," one fan told a television reporter, proudly displaying his new purchase. "I'm not taking it off until he plays his first match. I'm sleeping in this. I'm showering in this. This is my life now."
Even fans who'd been devastated by Ronaldo's departure found themselves cautiously optimistic.
"I love Cristiano. I always will. He's a legend. But Adriano?" A middle-aged supporter paused, choosing his words carefully. "Adriano is special in a different way. Cristiano gave us his prime years. Adriano is giving us his ENTIRE CAREER. He's 22. We're getting him at the beginning, not the end. That's incredible."
Spanish newspapers, traditionally difficult to impress and quick to criticize, were almost universally positive.
"The signing of the century," proclaimed Marca's front page.
"Florentino Pérez delivers a miracle," admitted AS, despite their usual skepticism.
"Real Madrid are back," declared El País. "Back to signing the world's best. Back to being the inevitable destination for greatness."
Even international Spanish-language media joined the party. In South America, where Adriano had significant Portuguese-speaking fans, the reaction was ecstatic.
"He chose Madrid over staying in England," noted an Argentine sports show. "That tells you everything about Madrid's pull. Everyone wants to play for Real Madrid."
Other clubs' supporters tried to rain on Madrid's parade but couldn't really land effective criticisms.
"Sure, he's great, but can he do it in La Liga?" some Barcelona fans posted, trying to find an angle.
"He literally won La Liga with Malaga at 18," came the reply. "Try again."
"He's going to flop without Premier League intensity!"
"He just won back-to-back World Cups. I think he'll manage."
The attempts at negativity were half-hearted at best. Everyone knew what Madrid had just acquired.
Malaga, Adriano's first professional club, posted a heartfelt message on their official website that went viral.
"Although wearing different colors, our King has returned home. Welcome back to Spain, Adriano! You will always be a Malaguista in our hearts. We were privileged to witness your beginning. Now the world watches your continued ascent. Vamos!"
The post included photos from Adriano's single season at Malaga, a teenage phenomenon who'd led an unfancied team to an impossible double. The nostalgia was powerful.
Current and former players couldn't resist joining the social media frenzy.
Kylian Mbappé, thrilled to finally be reuniting with his mentor and friend, posted immediately: "I told him last year I wanted to play alongside him at Real Madrid too. I MANIFESTED THIS! Welcome, King! Let's win everything! 👑⚽️🔥"
Sergio Ramos, Real Madrid's captain and defensive leader, posted with obvious relief: "I am SO RELIEVED I don't have to mark this guy anymore. He's been an absolute nightmare for defenders—just ask the poor souls who faced him in the Premier League. Welcome to Madrid, Adriano! Let's win all the trophies! 🏆"
The replies to Ramos's post were hilarious. Teammates joked about how many times Adriano had destroyed him in past matches. Opponents sympathized with the difficulty of defending against someone so talented. Even Ramos himself joined in the self-deprecation.
Virgil van Dijk, still somewhat bitter about how his Manchester City exit had been handled, posted his support: "Glad to play with you again, bro! The best teammate anyone could ask for. Someone who always has your back. City's loss is definitely our gain! Let's build something special! 💪"
Van Dijk had never quite forgiven Guardiola for selling him after Adriano had personally convinced him to stay. When Adriano had apologized later, explaining how he'd tried to keep Van Dijk at the club, Virgil had understood it wasn't his fault. Now, reunited at Madrid, there was genuine excitement about what they could accomplish together.
Manchester City players, despite their professional obligations to remain somewhat neutral, couldn't hide their emotions about losing their teammate and friend.
Eden Hazard posted a photo of him and Adriano celebrating a Champions League victory: "Four years. Three Champions Leagues. Countless memories. You made us all better players just by being around you. I'll miss you, brother. Go conquer Spain like you conquered England. ❤️💙"
Kevin De Bruyne was more succinct but no less heartfelt: "The best teammate I ever had. The best player I ever played with. Madrid fans—you just got very, very lucky. Treat him right. 👑"
David Silva, City's quiet leader, posted simply: "Gracias por todo, amigo. Spain welcomes you home."
Others followed—Salah, Hummels, Kimmich, Robertson, Kane—all posting tributes, memories, well-wishes. The common thread was clear: they were devastated to lose him but understood why he needed to leave.
The Manchester City official website posted a formal statement that barely concealed the club's heartbreak:
"Manchester City Football Club announces the transfer of Adriano Riveiro to Real Madrid for a world record fee of 250 million euros. Adriano joined us four years ago and immediately became not just our best player, but one of the greatest players in club history. Three Champions League titles. Three Premier League championships. A perfect season. Records that may never be broken. He gave us everything, and we will be forever grateful. We wish him nothing but success in Spain. Once a Blue, always a Blue. Thank you, Adriano. For everything."
The statement was accompanied by a video montage of Adriano's greatest moments in a City shirt—goals, assists, celebrations, trophy lifts. Set to emotional music, it was impossible to watch without getting choked up.
Pep Guardiola found himself in an impossibly awkward position. He couldn't publicly criticize Adriano without looking petty. He couldn't celebrate the transfer without seeming callous toward City fans. He couldn't explain his tactical reasoning without sounding defensive.
So he stayed silent.
At his first press conference after the announcement, journalists bombarded him with questions.
"Pep, how do you feel about losing Adriano?"
"Do you regret the way things developed this season?"
"Do you take responsibility for him leaving?"
"How will you replace the best player in the world?"
Guardiola's responses were curt, clearly rehearsed, and revealed nothing.
"Adriano is an excellent player. We wish him well. We focus now on the season ahead with the squad we have."
That was it. No elaboration. No emotion. Just professional platitudes.
Behind the scenes, according to sources close to the club, Guardiola was desperately trying to sign Lionel Messi as a replacement—someone who'd thrived in his system at Barcelona, someone who could be the centerpiece of his tactical vision.
He reached out through intermediaries. Barcelona's response was swift and brutal: 300 million euros. Non-negotiable.
Manchester City's board, still reeling from the backlash over Adriano's sale, refused. They'd just received 250 million for one superstar—they weren't spending 300 million for another, especially one who was 31 years old.
The rejection infuriated Messi, who saw it as Barcelona disrespecting him, using him as a pawn. The relationship between club and player, already strained, deteriorated further. Seeds were planted for future drama.
But that was Barcelona's problem. Manchester City had enough problems of their own.
*****
Despite all the digital frenzy, nothing compared to the actual, physical arrival of Adriano Riveiro in Madrid.
The day had been marked on calendars weeks in advance once the transfer was confirmed. Thousands of fans had been camping outside Barajas Airport since the previous evening, desperate for even a glimpse of their new hero.
Airport security had never dealt with anything like this. They'd prepared for large crowds before—major politicians, entertainment superstars, even other football transfers. But this was different. This was religious fervor bottled up and unleashed at an airport terminal.
By dawn on August 6th, over 15,000 people had gathered in and around the airport. Police struggled to maintain order. Barriers were erected, then moved, then erected again as the crowd swelled. Local news helicopters circled overhead, broadcasting live to millions watching from home.
Adriano's flight from Manchester was tracked obsessively online. Flight tracking websites crashed from too much traffic. Twitter updates about the plane's location trended globally.
"Flight just crossed into Spanish airspace!"
"Thirty minutes to landing!"
"He's here! The plane just touched down!"
Inside the aircraft, Adriano sat in first class with Kate beside him, both amused and slightly overwhelmed by the spectacle they were about to encounter.
"Ready for this?" Kate asked, squeezing his hand.
Adriano grinned. "As ready as I'll ever be."
But his mind was elsewhere—on the secret they were carrying. Just one day ago, Kate had told him she was pregnant. They'd confirmed it with a doctor that morning before leaving Manchester. Six weeks along. Healthy. Everything looking good.
They'd only told their families so far. Rosa and Julio had cried tears of joy over the phone, immediately declaring they'd be moving to Madrid for at least a year to help with the baby. Kate's parents, Jeff and Shelly, had reacted similarly, promising to visit as soon as possible and as often as allowed.
"Our first child is going to be born in Madrid," Adriano had marveled the night before. "Spanish citizenship. Real Madrid in their blood from day one."
"Or she could support Manchester City out of spite," Kate had teased.
"Don't even joke about that."
Now, as the plane taxied to the gate, Adriano could see the crowds through the window. Thousands of white flags waving. Banners with his name. Smoke bombs creating clouds of white.
"Jesus," Kate breathed. "This is insane."
"Welcome to Madrid," Adriano replied.
Airport staff had created a special pathway from the gate to a designated greeting area where Adriano would briefly address fans before heading to a press conference. Security personnel lined the route—not to protect him from danger, but from being overwhelmed by love.
As the plane door opened and Adriano stepped into the jet bridge, the roar was audible even through walls and glass. Fifteen thousand people cheering as one, the sound echoing through the terminal like thunder.
Adriano emerged into the public area holding Kate's hand, both dressed smartly but casually—him in dark jeans and a white Real Madrid polo shirt, her in a summer dress that showed no signs yet of her pregnancy.
The crowd exploded.
"ADRIANO! ADRIANO! ADRIANO!"
Flags waved frantically. Camera flashes created a strobe effect. People were crying, screaming, jumping up and down. Security struggled to keep the barriers intact as fans pressed forward, desperate to get closer.
Adriano stopped and just took it in for a moment, grinning widely, clearly moved by the reception. Kate squeezed his hand, her own smile radiant as she watched the response her husband was generating.
An airport staff member handed Adriano a microphone, gesturing toward a raised platform where he could address the crowd.
Adriano climbed up, helped Kate up beside him, and raised the microphone. The crowd quieted somewhat, though the energy remained electric.
"Hola Madrid!" Adriano shouted, and the response was deafening. He waited for it to subside before continuing in Spanish. "How are you all today?"
More cheers, more chants, more madness.
Adriano laughed, the sound genuine and delighted. "Man, it feels absolutely amazing to be welcomed like this by all of you! I've been to many places, seen many things, but this? This is special. This is Real Madrid."
The crowd roared approval.
"I know you've been through a difficult few weeks," Adriano continued, his tone becoming more serious. "Losing Cristiano—that hurt. I understand that. He's a legend. My friend. My mentor. Impossible to replace."
Some fans shouted their agreement, others their sadness.
"But I'm not here to replace anyone," Adriano said firmly. "I'm here to write my own story. Our own story. Together. I promise you this—I will give absolutely everything I have to win every trophy there is to win. Every match, every training session, every moment—I'll give you my best. All I ask is your support and your love."
The declaration was met with another eruption of sound, fans screaming their support and commitment.
"You'll see plenty of me in the coming days, weeks, months, years," Adriano promised. "This is my home now. Your home is my home. Let's make history together! Hala Madrid!"
"HALA MADRID!" fifteen thousand voices responded as one.
Adriano waved one final time, then helped Kate down from the platform. They walked through the airport corridor surrounded by security, fans reaching over barriers to touch him, to hand him gifts, to get just a moment of his attention.
He stopped frequently despite security's attempts to keep him moving—signing autographs, taking selfies, accepting flowers and scarves and letters. One young boy, maybe seven years old, thrust a homemade drawing toward him.
Adriano stopped and knelt down to the boy's eye level. "Did you make this?"
The boy nodded shyly.
The drawing showed a stick-figure Adriano scoring a goal while surrounded by stick-figure fans cheering. At the top, written in a child's handwriting: "Thank you for coming to Madrid."
Adriano felt emotion catch in his throat. "This is beautiful. What's your name?"
"Miguel," the boy whispered.
"Well, Miguel, I'm going to keep this forever. Thank you." Adriano signed the bottom of the drawing and handed it back, then pulled the boy into a quick hug.
Miguel's mother was crying, filming the whole interaction on her phone.
Similar scenes repeated throughout the walk to the car waiting outside. Every few steps, another fan, another story, another moment of connection.
Kate watched it all with amazement. As a Hollywood actress, she was used to fame, used to recognition. But this was different. This wasn't celebrity worship—this was genuine love for what Adriano represented. Hope. Excellence. Joy.
"You okay?" Adriano asked her quietly as they finally reached the car.
"Yeah," Kate said, wiping her eyes. "Just... that was beautiful. Really beautiful. These people adore you."
"I hope I can live up to their expectations."
"You will. You always do."
****
If the airport arrival was chaotic, the official presentation ceremony was a perfectly orchestrated spectacle.
The Santiago Bernabéu, Real Madrid's iconic stadium, had been prepared meticulously. The pitch was pristine, looking more like a golf green than a football field. A stage had been erected at midfield, draped in white and gold. Giant screens flanked both sides, ready to display videos and graphics.
Most importantly, the stands were packed. All 81,000 seats filled with fans who'd entered a lottery for the chance to attend. Thousands more were turned away, relegated to watching on screens outside the stadium or at home.
The atmosphere rivaled a Champions League final. Fans had arrived hours early, creating tifos and choreographed displays in different sections. One entire stand held cards that, when raised together, formed a massive image of Adriano's face. Another section spelled out "WELCOME HOME" in white and gold.
"This is incredible," Kate said from the family box where she sat with Rosa, Julio, Jeff, and Shelly. "I've never seen anything like this."
"Neither have I," Rosa admitted, clutching her rosary. "And I've watched him receive many honors."
The ceremony began with a video—a highlight reel of Adriano's career set to stirring orchestral music. His childhood in Portugal. His time at La Masia. The injury that should have ended everything. The comeback with Malaga. The triumphs at Manchester City. The World Cup victories with Portugal.
As the video played on the giant screens, the crowd watched in reverent silence, many crying openly at the emotion of the journey.
Then came the introduction.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice boomed through the stadium speakers. "Please welcome the president of Real Madrid—Florentino Pérez!"
Pérez walked onto the stage to applause, looking dignified in an expensive suit. He waited for the noise to subside before speaking.
"Today is a historic day for Real Madrid," Pérez began. "We have signed the best player in the world. A player who, at just twenty-two years old, has already accomplished more than most accomplish in entire careers. Three Champions League titles. Two World Cup victories. Records that may never be broken. And now, he wears our white jersey."
The crowd cheered at each accolade.
"But more than his achievements, we've signed a player of incredible character. Someone who gives back to communities. Who visits children in hospitals. Who donates millions to charity. A role model for young players everywhere. Real Madrid is honored to welcome—ADRIANO RIVEIRO!"
The crowd exploded as Adriano emerged from the tunnel, wearing the iconic all-white Real Madrid kit with the number 10 on his back. He jogged onto the pitch, waving to all four sides of the stadium, his smile visible even from the highest seats.
Zinedine Zidane was already on stage, and when Adriano reached him, the French legend pulled him into an embrace. The symbolism wasn't lost on anyone, one icon of the number 10 welcoming another.
Pérez presented Adriano with several gifts on behalf of the club. A specially commissioned watch with the Real Madrid crest. A leather-bound book containing messages from every club employee welcoming him. A framed photo of the Bernabéu with "Welcome Home" inscribed at the bottom.
Then came the moment everyone was waiting for.
Adriano was handed a football, the official La Liga match ball. He placed it at his feet, looked up at the crowd one more time, and let his instincts take over.
What followed was five minutes of pure skill.
He started with simple tricks—flicks and turns, controlled juggling. Then he escalated. A rainbow flick over an imaginary defender. An elastico at full speed. A triple stepover followed by a Cruyff turn. A no-look backheel pass to an imaginary teammate.
The crowd's reaction grew louder with each trick. People were on their feet, cameras out, recording every second.
Adriano finished with his signature move—the one he'd developed as a teenager and perfected over years. He flicked the ball up with his heel, caught it on his neck, rolled it across his shoulders to the other side, let it drop down his back, flicked it up again with his heel, and volleyed it toward the goal from forty yards.
The ball flew straight and true, curving at the last second to dip just under the crossbar and into the top corner.
The stadium erupted like Real Madrid had just won the Champions League.
Adriano stood there, arms spread, drinking in the adulation. This was his new home. These were his new fans. And judging by their reaction, they were ready to love him as much as Manchester had.
Later, during the press conference portion of the event, Adriano fielded questions from dozens of journalists.
"How does it feel to be at Real Madrid?"
"Like a dream come true. Every footballer dreams of playing here. To actually be here, wearing this shirt... I'm honored and grateful."
"Do you feel pressure replacing Cristiano Ronaldo?"
"I'm not replacing anyone. Cristiano is a legend here and always will be. I'm just trying to write my own story. If I can contribute even half of what he did, I'll be happy."
"What are your goals for your first season?"
"Win everything. Simple as that. La Liga, Copa del Rey, Champions League—we compete for all of them. That's the Real Madrid way."
"Barcelona are the favorites for La Liga. Do you think you can overcome them?"
Adriano smiled. "We'll see. But I didn't come here to finish second."
The final question came from a Spanish journalist who asked about the upcoming Spanish Super Cup match against Barcelona—Adriano's first competitive match in a Madrid shirt.
"Are you ready to face Messi and Barcelona so soon?"
"Absolutely," Adriano replied without hesitation. "What better way to start than against the best? I can't wait. The fans can't wait. Let's give them a show."
****
That night, back in the luxury apartment Real Madrid had secured for them temporarily while they searched for a permanent home, Adriano and Kate finally had a quiet moment alone.
They stood on the balcony overlooking Madrid's skyline, the city lights twinkling below them, the sounds of celebration still audible from nearby streets.
Kate rested her head on Adriano's shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist—carefully, protectively, mindful of the new life growing inside her.
"What a day," she said softly.
"Yeah. What a day."
"Are you happy? Really happy?"
Adriano thought about it. The airport reception. The presentation at the Bernabéu. The love from fans. The promise of new challenges. And most importantly, the baby they'd soon welcome into the world.
"Yeah," he said finally. "I'm really happy. Happier than I've been in a long time."
Kate kissed his cheek. "Good. That's all that matters."
They stood in comfortable silence for a while before Adriano spoke again.
"We should start thinking about names."
"Already? We don't even know if it's a boy or girl yet."
"I know. But we should have options ready. For either."
Kate smiled. "Okay. What are you thinking?"
"If it's a boy... maybe something Portuguese. To honor my heritage. What about Lucas? Or Luciano?"
"I like Luciano. Strong name. And for a girl?"
"Maria? Isabella?"
"Isabella Riveiro," Kate tested it out. "That's beautiful. I love it."
They continued brainstorming, laughing at some of the more ridiculous suggestions, seriously considering others, planning for a future that suddenly felt brighter and more hopeful than ever.
Neither of them mentioned the upcoming match against Barcelona, though it was certainly on Adriano's mind. His first competitive appearance for Real Madrid. Against their greatest rivals. With 90,000 fans watching live and hundreds of millions more on television.
No pressure.
But he'd thrived under pressure his entire career. Why should this be any different?
A new era was about to begin for Real Madrid. And Adriano was ready to lead it.