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Unexpected Allies

Marco

I sit alone in my papal apartment, which has become both sanctuary and prison. The ornate walls that once inspired awe now feel like the boundaries of an elegant cage. Cardinal Antonelli’s men—not my men—stand outside my door, their loyalty purchased with promises I can only imagine.

The secure phone Sister Lucia smuggled in buzzes in my hand. I glance at the screen.

“CNN poll: 48% of American Catholics support you remaining as Pope. 63% of Catholics under 30.”

I allow myself a small smile. Not a victory, but not the universal condemnation Antonelli predicted either.

The television across the room plays silently.

I’ve kept it on constantly since Sullivan managed to get it reconnected, watching the world respond to us—to Matteo and me—with a mixture of fascination and dread.

The screen shows St. Peter’s Square, where the crowds have grown larger each day.

No longer just angry traditionalists with their signs condemning me as a heretic.

Now rainbow flags wave alongside Vatican banners.

My phone buzzes again. A message from Matteo: “Turn on RAI News. Now.”

I grab the remote and switch channels. Archbishop Chen Wei stands before a podium, flanked by cardinals from the Philippines, South Korea, Nigeria, and Brazil.

“The Church has always evolved in its understanding of human dignity,” Chen says, his voice steady and clear. “We stand with Pope Pius in his call for an Extraordinary Synod. The Asian Episcopal Conferences believe that dialogue, not forced resignation, is the path forward.”

The camera pans to show at least fifteen cardinals nodding in agreement. I feel a surge of hope. Antonelli can’t claim to speak for the universal Church if half the world’s cardinals stand against him.

Another buzz. Sister Maria Francisca this time: “12 million views on our video about your housing initiative. #PiusStays trending in 26 countries.”

I remember when I first met Sister Maria—a Brazilian nun with degrees in both theology and digital communications.

Cardinal Lombardi had dismissed her as “that nun with the Twitter obsession.” Now she coordinates a global network of Catholic social media influencers who are telling a different story about my papacy than the one Antonelli wants told.

The door opens without a knock. Cardinal Sullivan slips in, looking over his shoulder.

“I’ve only got five minutes before they notice I’m here,” he says. “They’re planning something for tomorrow. A press conference with twelve cardinals demanding your immediate resignation and the end of the synod.”

“Let them,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “Archbishop Chen has—”

“I saw. That’s bought us time, but not victory.” Sullivan hands me a folder. “Sister Lucia compiled this. Undeniable evidence that Cardinal Visconti has been communicating directly with the ‘Ndrangheta. Payments, coded messages, everything.”

“Does Matteo have this?”

“His sister Sophia does. She’s coordinating with us.” Sullivan checks his watch. “I need to go. Father Domenico will visit you later for confession. Antonelli couldn’t refuse that request without raising suspicions.”

After Sullivan leaves, I open the folder. Pages of bank statements, photographs of meetings, transcripts of phone calls. The corruption runs deeper than even I suspected. Not just money laundering, but direct coordination with organized crime to protect their mutual interests.

My phone buzzes again. A message from Matteo: “Miss you. Stay strong. We’re winning.”

Three simple sentences that warm me more than any theological treatise ever could.

* * *

Father Domenico arrives as the evening bells ring. The guards search him thoroughly, even checking his Bible and stole for hidden messages. The elderly priest bears their indignities with quiet dignity.

“My son,” he says when we’re finally alone. “How are you holding up?”

“Better than they think,” I reply, embracing him. “But I’m tired of being a prisoner.”

“The whole world is watching now,” Father Domenico says, settling into a chair. “That’s your protection. Even Antonelli wouldn’t dare harm the Pope with every camera in Christendom pointed at the Vatican. ”

I sit across from him. “I’m not afraid for my safety. I’m afraid for the Church. This division—”

“Was already there,” he interrupts gently. “You didn’t create it. You simply brought it into the light where it can be healed.”

“And Matteo? What I feel for him—”

“Is love,” Father Domenico finishes. “Love that has given you courage to face corruption that has festered for decades. Would you have found that courage otherwise?”

I consider this. “Perhaps not.”

“Then perhaps God sent him to you for a reason.” Father Domenico smiles. “Now, shall we proceed with confession? For appearance’s sake, at least.”

I kneel before him, though we both know this is more conversation than confession. There is no sin in my heart for loving Matteo.

“The synod will be the battlefield,” Father Domenico says quietly. “Antonelli and Lombardi are gathering allies, preparing arguments from scripture and tradition to overwhelm any progressive voices.”

“Let them come with their arguments,” I say. “Truth doesn’t fear debate.”

“They’ll try to make it about you personally. About your relationship. They’ll say you’ve lost moral authority.”

“While they’ve been protecting criminals and laundering money for the mafia?” I can’t keep the edge from my voice.

“Precisely why they’ll attack so viciously.” Father Domenico places a hand on my shoulder. “You must stay focused on the larger questions—on love, on human dignity, on the Church’s mission to the marginalized.”

“I will.”

“Good.” He reaches into his pocket. “I almost forgot. Sister Maria asked me to give you this.”

He hands me a small USB drive .

“What is it?”

“Testimonials. Thousands of them. Catholics from around the world sharing how your stance has affected them. Many from priests and religious who’ve lived in silence for decades.” His eyes grow misty. “Including mine.”

I look at him in surprise.

“Yes, my son. I too have known the burden of loving in silence. Perhaps that’s why God placed me in your path.” He stands. “I should go before they grow suspicious.”

As he leaves, I clutch the USB drive. Thousands of voices. Thousands of stories like mine. I am not alone.

* * *

The next morning, my television shows Cardinal Lombardi at his press conference, flanked by eleven other cardinals. Their faces are grim as they call for my immediate resignation “for the good of the Church.”

But split-screen coverage shows something else: outside the press room, hundreds of young Catholics hold a prayer vigil. Their signs read “Who Are We to Judge?” and “Love Is Not a Sin.” Sister Maria Francisca moves among them, her phone live streaming their peaceful witness to millions.

My secure phone rings. It’s Sophia Valentini.

“Marco,” she says, “I’ve arranged interviews with major outlets for Archbishop Chen and Cardinal Sullivan. BBC, CNN, Al Jazeera. We’re countering their narrative in real time.”

“Thank you, Sophia. How is Matteo?”

“Stubborn. Working too hard.” She pauses. “He misses you terribly.”

“And I him.”

“The parliament vote has been postponed again. The corruption evidence against Carlos is too substantial to ignore. Matteo’s position is stronger today than yesterday.”

“Good. And the other matter?”

“The Vatican Bank documents? Being reviewed by prosecutors as we speak. Cardinal Lombardi doesn’t know it yet, but the Italian financial police have frozen several of his foundation’s accounts.

They’re preparing arrest warrants for all of the Cardinals indicated in the documents you presented to them. They won’t know what hit them.”

After we hang up, I turn back to the television.

The news has shifted to international reactions.

The German Bishops’ Conference has issued a statement supporting the synod process.

French Catholic intellectuals have published an open letter defending theological exploration of sexuality.

American Catholics are split along familiar liberal-conservative lines, but even there, surprising voices have emerged in support.

A knock at the door, Captain Lombardi enters.

“Your Holiness,” he says, “I have news from the security detail. We’ve identified the officers who’ve been reporting directly to Cardinal Antonelli. We’re replacing them quietly, one by one.”

“How many of the Guard remain loyal to the office of the Pope rather than to Antonelli?”

“More than two-thirds, Your Holiness. Many were disturbed by the attempt to isolate you. It goes against our sacred oath.”

“When will I be free to move about again?”

“Soon. Perhaps tomorrow. We’re being careful not to tip our hand. Reichlin still hasn’t realized the truth of the matter though, which is why it has taken longer than I would have liked to get you free of this room.”

After he leaves, I walk to the window. From here, I can see a corner of St. Peter’s Square. The crowds have grown again. Signs in multiple languages. Families with children. Elderly nuns alongside young activists.

My phone buzzes with a message from Sister Lucia: “Conservative coalition fracturing. Three cardinals who stood with Lombardi yesterday have requested private meetings with Cardinal Sullivan.”

Another message arrives, this one from Archbishop Chen: “Asian and African conferences standing firm. We represent the future of the Church. They cannot ignore us.”

I press my hand against the cool glass of the window. For the first time in days, I feel the tide turning. Not victory—not yet—but movement in the right direction.

My phone buzzes once more. Matteo again: “La Repubblica poll shows 58% of Italians support me remaining as PM. Public response to anti-corruption arrests overwhelmingly positive. Love conquers all, Marco. Even politics.”

I smile at his optimism. The battle is far from over.

The synod still looms ahead—a theological confrontation that will determine not just my fate but potentially the direction of the Church for generations.

Antonelli and his allies will come armed with centuries of tradition and selective readings of scripture.

But I will come with something stronger: truth. The truth about love in all its forms. The truth about a God who created humanity in magnificent diversity. The truth that has been buried under layers of fear and control for too long.