Page 27 of Sacred Hearts

Something warm unfurls in my chest at his words. I should focus solely on the corruption we’re uncovering, the danger still threatening both of us. Instead, I find myself counting the hours until our meeting, anticipating not just the exchange of information but the man himself—his incisive mind, his unwavering conviction, the way his eyes hold mine when we speak of things beyond politics and finance.

This growing connection between us exists in a space I’ve never allowed myself to explore—somewhere between friendship and something deeper I dare not name. I tell myself it’s the natural result of facing danger together, of being the only two people who fully understand the scope of what we’re uncovering.

But in the quiet moments before sleep, I know there’s more to it—something I’ve spent a lifetime denying, something that terrifies me more than any corruption or conspiracy.

* * *

Sister Lucia enters after a brief knock, her sharp eyes missing nothing as I slip the secure phone back into my drawer.

“Your Holiness, the documents you requested from the archives.” She places a leather portfolio on my desk. “Financial records from the Lombardi Foundation dating back ten years.”

“Thank you, Sister.” I gesture for her to sit. “Have you reviewed them?”

“Thoroughly.” Her expression is grim. “The pattern is consistent with what the Prime Minister’s team discovered. Funds movingthrough the foundation into development projects in Calabria, then disappearing into shell companies.”

I open the portfolio, scanning the first page. “And Cardinal Antonelli approved all these transactions?”

“His signature appears on every authorization.” She leans forward slightly. “Your Holiness, these investments began under Pope Benedict and continued through Francis’s papacy. The corruption network has survived multiple attempts at reform.”

“Which means they’re entrenched and organized.” I close the portfolio. “And likely aware we’re investigating.”

“Almost certainly.” Sister Lucia’s voice lowers. “There have been unusual access attempts to the secure server room. Nothing successful yet, but they’re probing our defences.”

“Increase security, but discreetly. I don’t want to alert them that we’re aware of their attempts.”

She nods. “And your meeting with the Prime Minister tonight?”

I keep my expression neutral. “A necessary coordination of our investigations.”

“Of course.” Something in her tone suggests she understands more than I’ve said. “I’ve arranged for the library to be cleared after nine. The security cameras will experience a ‘technical malfunction’ between ten and midnight.”

“Is that necessary?”

“For your safety, yes.” Her eyes meet mine directly. “And for your privacy.”

Heat rises to my face. “Sister Lucia—”

“Your Holiness,” she interrupts gently, “I’ve served the Church for forty years. I’ve seen the toll that isolation takes on those who bear the greatest burdens. Whatever comfort you find in these difficult times is between you and God.”

I’m speechless, uncertain how to respond to her implicitunderstanding.

“The security detail will remain at the outer doors only,” she continues professionally. “I’ll ensure Father Tomás is occupied with the delegation from Austria.”

After she leaves, I sit motionless, her words echoing in my mind.Whatever comfort you find…Has my growing attachment to Matteo been so obvious? Or is Sister Lucia simply more perceptive than most?

I reach for my rosary, fingers moving automatically over the familiar beads. These past two weeks have changed something fundamental between Matteo and me. What began as necessary cooperation has evolved into late-night conversations that range far beyond our investigations—discussions of faith and doubt, purpose and meaning, the weight of our respective offices.

Last night, via our secure connection, he told me about his father’s death from cancer and the struggle to receive proper medical treatment, how it shaped his determination to fight corruption. I shared my struggles in seminary, the loneliness of being younger than my peers, always set apart. We’ve revealed vulnerabilities to each other that few others have seen.

And with each conversation, each meeting, the space between us has grown smaller, charged with something I’ve spent a lifetime pretending doesn’t exist.

Tonight will be different, I tell myself. Tonight we’ll focus solely on the investigation. I will maintain appropriate boundaries. I will remember my vows, my position, my responsibilities.

But even as I form these resolutions, I know how easily they dissolve in Matteo’s presence.

* * *

By evening, the Vatican settles into its nighttime rhythm. The touristsare gone, the administrative offices empty. Only the Swiss Guard remains vigilant at their posts as I make my way through the corridors toward the library, the leather portfolio tucked under my arm.

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