The party could be heard from down the street.
When Kai Alexander pulled up to his house that night, fresh off the 3-1 win over Orlando City, the bass was shaking the windows. Laughter, shouting, the sharp pop of beer cans cracking open — it was a carnival of chaos.
Kai hesitated on the porch, heart sinking.
He already knew what he was walking into.
He pushed open the door.
The living room was packed, smoke curling in the air, the smell of alcohol thick enough to choke on. Robert, his father, sat on the couch, a beer in one hand, arm slung lazily around Jerry — Kai's so-called agent — who was laughing like he didn't have a care in the world.
There were strangers everywhere. Some Kai recognized from Robert's usual crowd — lowlifes, hustlers, leeches. Others he didn't know. Didn't want to know.
Robert spotted him and lifted his beer in a mock salute, grinning wide.
"Hahaha, my boy! Everyone look our golden goose is here!" Robert roared, voice slurred. "Kai, baby! You makin' all this possible!" The leeches raised their glasses in a mock toast.
Kai forced a smile, bile rising in his throat. He kept his head down, ignoring the claps on his back, the drunken praise, the way Jerry didn't even bother to glance at him.
Parasites. Every last one of them.
He found his mom in the kitchen, washing dishes that would be dirty again in five minutes. She looked up with tired eyes, smiled weakly.
Ella and Ethan sat at the table, playing with a beat-up deck of cards, pretending the chaos didn't exist.
Kai went straight to them, dropping into a chair, letting their laughter drown out the poison swirling around the rest of the house.
"Did you win, Kai?" Ella asked, bouncing in her seat.
"Yeah, we smashed 'em," Kai said, ruffling her hair.
Ethan beamed. "You're the best!"
For a few minutes, for a few precious moments, it was just them — no noise, no shouting, no Robert.
But good things never lasted long in this house.
The noise outside the front door grew louder. Shouts. Heavy bass. Tires screeching.
Kai tensed instinctively — and then relaxed when he recognized the voice cutting through the night.
"Yo, open this damn door!"
It was Tez.
Kai stood and headed to the backyard, slipping through the crowd unnoticed.
Tez and a few of his boys — Dre, Smoke, Lil Chris — lounged by the fence, passing a blunt between them, their gold chains glinting under the streetlights.
"Kaiiiiii!" Tez hollered when he saw him, dragging him into a crushing hug. "Star boy, man! You killin' it! I seen you break guys ankles like prime Kyrie Irving"
Kai laughed, real laughter this time, and dapped up the others. Out here, he didn't have to be careful. Didn't have to pretend.
Out here, he was just Kai.
They posted up in the corner of the yard, passing around cheap beer and talking shit like old times.
After a while, the conversation turned real.
Kai kicked a rock at his feet, voice low. "Man… I can't stay here. I swear to God, I'm gonna lose my mind."
Tez leaned in, serious now. "What's up?"
"My dad," Kai said, the words bitter on his tongue. "He don't see me, man. Just sees a paycheck. Him and that fake-ass agent… they taking everything. Everything I work for."
Tez's jaw tightened. Smoke muttered a curse. Even Dre, usually the clown of the group, looked serious.
"You ain't alone, Kai," Tez said, clapping him on the back. "You family, bro. Blood don't always make you family. This do."
Kai nodded, feeling the weight of their loyalty settle over him like a shield.
When Tez and his boys left, they threw cold, cutting glances at Robert — looks that said more than words ever could.
Robert didn't notice. Too drunk. Too busy laughing with Jerry.
But Kai noticed.
And it meant everything.
The next morning, Coach Morales' call came early.
"Kai," he said, voice firm, "come to my office. Now."
Kai's stomach twisted, but he didn't argue. He grabbed his keys and drove to the training ground, wiping sleep from his eyes.
When he walked into Morales' office, he froze.
Sitting across from the coach was a woman — mid-forties maybe, dressed sharp but simple. Brown hair pulled back, calm blue eyes that seemed to see straight through him.
She stood and extended a hand.
"Sarah Morgan," she said. "It's a pleasure, Mr Alexander."
He shook her hand, cautious but curious.
Morales motioned him to sit.
"I reached out to a few people after our talk," Morales said. "Sarah came highly recommended."
Kai nodded slowly. His heart pounded in his chest.
Sarah didn't waste time.
"I know about Jerry, Morales told me" she said. "I know about the situation at home. I'm not here to judge. I'm here to help."
Kai swallowed hard.
"And how do I know you're not just… another one of them?" he asked, voice low.
Sarah smiled — but it wasn't fake, wasn't plastic. It was understanding.
"You don't," she said simply. "Trust has to be earned. I'm not asking for it today. I'm asking for a chance to earn it."
Kai sat back, studying her.
Everything inside him — all the instincts he'd sharpened over years of surviving — said she was telling the truth.
And maybe, for once, he could believe in something.
He nodded.
"Alright," he said. "You're my agent now, please take care of me."
Relief flashed across Coach Morales' face. Sarah just smiled wider, pulling a folder from her bag.
"And because Jerry never made you sign anything legally binding," she said, "this will be clean. No lawsuits. No drama."
Kai let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Finally, a break.
Finally, a way forward.
Sarah wasted no time.
Within hours, she was on calls, firing off emails, reaching out to clubs across Europe.
Bayern Munich. Borussia Dortmund. PSG. Arsenal. Ajax. Some smaller teams too who would easily give Kai an instant position in the starting 11. Like, Leeds United, Real Betis and Como.
The biggest names. The brightest stages.
She knew what Kai could become. And she was going to make sure the world knew too.
While she worked, news started swirling back at the club offices.
A call came through — official, serious.
The USMNT.
They were planning March friendlies. Wanted to look at Kai closely for senior national team consideration. Not U20. Not U23. The full squad.
The club president took the call personally, nodding thoughtfully.
"Fine by us," he said. "If he's still here in March."
Because everyone in the building knew: Europe was calling louder every day.
And PSG and Dortmund were banging the loudest.
Kai's world was about to change.
Fast.
That night, after training, Kai sat on the hood of his beat-up car, watching the sunset bleed across the Atlanta skyline.
He thought about everything that had happened — the party, Tez, Coach Morales, his new agent, Sarah, the national team call, Europe knocking at his door. Which he was eager to answer.
For the first time in a long time, he felt like he could breathe.
He wasn't out yet.
But the path was opening.
And Kai Alexander was ready to run it.
Full speed.