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“Holy Father,” she says as she enters, her practical habit wrinkled as though she’s been working through the night. “It’s good to see you safe. Captain Lombardi briefed us on the operation’s success, but seeing you in person is a relief.”

“Thank you both for your concern,” I reply, gesturing for them to sit. “And for managing things during my absence.”

Sister Lucia studies my face carefully. “You seem… different, Holy Father.”

Her perceptiveness doesn’t surprise me. Of all my advisors, Lucia has always been the most intuitive.

“I am different,” I acknowledge. “Last night clarified many things for me.”

Sullivan leans forward. “Cardinal Antonelli has called an emergency meeting of the Curia for this afternoon. Ostensibly to discuss your protection, but I suspect—”

“He’ll use it to try to isolate me further,” I finish. “Yes, I expected as much.”

“We should prepare a measured response,” Sullivan continues. “Perhaps agree to some additional security while maintaining your essential freedom of movement.”

“I have something else in mind entirely.” I push my handwritten notes toward them. “I’m going to use this meeting to announce a special synod.”

They both look down at my notes, then back at me with widening eyes as they grasp what I’m proposing.

“A synod on homosexuality, clerical celibacy, and marriage?” Sister Lucia reads aloud, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes. ”

Sullivan removes his glasses, polishing them nervously. “Holy Father, with all respect… this is extraordinarily bold. The timing—”

“The timing is perfect,” I interrupt. “Antonelli and his allies expect me to retreat after this assassination attempt, to accept increased security that effectively isolates me from my supporters.”

“So this is strategic?” Lucia asks. “A diversion from the Vatican Bank investigation?”

“Partly,” I admit. “It will certainly divert their attention and force them to fight on multiple fronts. But it’s more than strategy.” I meet their eyes directly. “I believe in these reforms with my whole heart. I always have.”

A moment of silence follows as they absorb this. Sullivan’s political calculation is visible in his expression, while Lucia seems to be searching for something in my face.

“What changed?” she finally asks. “You’ve always been progressive in your private theology, but this… this is revolutionary.”

I consider how much to share. These are my closest advisors, people I trust implicitly, but some experiences are too personal, too sacred to fully articulate.

“Let’s just say I’ve been reminded of what matters most,” I reply carefully. “The Church’s purpose is to bring people closer to God’s love, not to erect barriers around it.”

Sullivan sighs heavily. “The conservatives will fight you with everything they have. Antonelli, Lombardi, Visconti—they’ll claim you’re undermining the very foundations of the faith.”

“Let them,” I say with newfound conviction. “I’m prepared for that battle.”

“Are you?” he presses. “Because once you open this door, Holy Father, there’s no closing it again. The debate will consume your papacy.”

“Perhaps that’s exactly what my papacy is for. ”

Sister Lucia has been quiet, still studying my notes. When she looks up, there’s a light in her eyes I’ve never seen before.

“I’ve spent thirty years arguing for a more inclusive interpretation of Church doctrine,” she says softly.

“I never thought I’d see a Pope willing to actually consider these changes.

” She straightens her shoulders. “I’ll help you prepare the theological foundation.

We’ll need to anticipate every scriptural and doctrinal argument they’ll throw at us. ”

Sullivan watches her for a moment, then turns back to me. “If you’re certain this is the path you want to take, I’ll support you. But we need to be strategic about who else we bring into this circle before the announcement.”

“I agree,” I say. “I’m thinking Father Domenico for his wisdom and historical perspective. And I need to know where Father Tomás stands—he’s been careful to keep his personal views private.”

“Cardinal Chen might be an ally,” Lucia suggests. “He’s expressed concerns about how our current teachings are received in Asia.”

Sullivan nods thoughtfully. “And Archbishop Navarro from the Philippines. He’s pastoral in his approach, respected by both progressives and moderates.”

For the next hour, we discuss potential allies and opponents, refining our approach and anticipating arguments. Sullivan’s political acumen proves invaluable as he maps out the various factions within the Curia, while Lucia’s theological expertise helps sharpen our doctrinal positions.

“We should prepare written materials,” Lucia says eventually. “Biblical references, historical precedents for doctrinal development, testimonials from pastoral experience.”

“Excellent idea,” I agree. “Can you have something ready before the meeting this afternoon?”

“We’ll need to work quickly, but yes.” She stands, energized by the challenge. “I have most of the research already compiled from my previous work.”

Sullivan rises as well. “I’ll discreetly sound out potential allies—nothing explicit, just enough to gauge who might be receptive when you make the announcement.”

“Thank you both,” I say, deeply grateful for their immediate support. “We’ll reconvene in two hours to finalize our approach.”

As they turn to leave, Sullivan pauses at the door. “Your Holiness, may I ask a personal question?”

“Of course.”

“Are you afraid?” His eyes, wise from decades of Church politics, search mine.

I consider the question carefully. “Not of Antonelli or the conservatives. Not even of failure.” I think of Matteo, of the courage it took for him to build a life of integrity in the political world. “I’m only afraid of not being true to what I believe God is calling me to do.”

Sullivan nods slowly, a smile spreading across his face. “Then we have nothing to fear at all.”

After Sister Lucia and Cardinal Sullivan leave to prepare their materials, I call for Father Tomás. My secretary has been a quiet presence these past weeks, his loyalty clear but his personal views carefully guarded. It’s time to know where he truly stands.

He arrives promptly, his expression betraying nothing. “Your Holiness requested me?”

“Yes, Tomás. Please, sit.” I gesture to the chair across from me. “I need to speak with you about something important.”

He sits, posture perfect, hands folded in his lap. “How may I serve, Holy Father?”

I study him for a moment. “Tomás, you’ve been my secretary since the conclave. You’ve witnessed everything—the threats, the attempts to isolate me, the corruption we’ve uncovered.”

“Yes, Your Holiness.” His expression remains carefully neutral .

“In one hour, I’m meeting with the Curia. I intend to announce plans for a synod to reconsider Church teaching on homosexuality, clerical celibacy, and marriage.” I watch his face closely as I speak.

His eyes widen slightly—the only crack in his composed demeanour. “I… see.”

“Do you?” I lean forward. “Because I need to know where you stand, Tomás. Not as my secretary, but as a priest. As a man of faith.”

He looks down at his hands, then back at me. “May I speak freely, Holy Father?”

“Please.”

“I was raised in a traditional Catholic family in Madrid. My formation was under Cardinal Visconti, as you know.” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I have always believed in the Church’s teachings.”

My heart sinks a little, though I keep my expression neutral.

“But,” he continues, surprising me, “I have also seen how these teachings have wounded people I care about. My cousin Miguel—” his voice catches slightly, “—he left the Church because he felt there was no place for him. Because he loved another man.”

“And what do you think about that?” I ask gently.

“I think…” He takes a deep breath. “I think Jesus would have embraced Miguel, not pushed him away. I think sometimes our traditions become barriers rather than bridges to God’s love.”

Relief washes through me. “So you would support opening this dialogue?”

“It will not be easy, Your Holiness. The conservative faction is powerful.” His eyes meet mine directly. “But yes, I will support you. Completely.”

A knock at the door interrupts us. Father Domenico enters, his elderly frame slightly stooped but his eyes bright with intelligence.

“You asked to see me, Holy Father?” he says, bowing slightly .

“Yes, Father. Please join us.” I gesture to another chair. “I was just discussing my plans with Father Tomás.”

As Father Domenico settles into his seat, I explain my intentions once more. Unlike Tomás, his reaction is immediate—a broad smile transforming his weathered face.

“At last,” he says, almost to himself. “I have prayed for this day.”

“You approve, then?” I ask, though his answer is obvious.

“Holy Father, I have heard thousands of confessions over my lifetime. So many souls tormented by teachings that seem to contradict the fundamental message of Christ’s love.

” He leans forward, suddenly energized. “Do you know how many priests have wept in my confessional, torn between their calling and their natural desire for companionship? How many gay Catholics have asked if God truly made them wrong?”

His passion is moving. “Then you’ll help me prepare for the resistance we’ll face?”

“With everything I have left to give,” he promises. “Though you should know—the resistance may not be as universal as you fear.”

“What do you mean?”

Father Domenico exchanges a glance with Tomás. “There are many in the Church who have waited for this conversation, Holy Father. Not just progressives, but thoughtful traditionalists who recognize that the Spirit continues to move among us.”

“Father Domenico is right,” Tomás adds. “I’ve heard whispers, even among cardinals you might consider conservative. Not all agree with Antonelli’s faction.”

This gives me pause. “You believe there could be broader support?”