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Her strategy is brilliant—creating facts on the ground while the political battle rages. “You need anything from me?”

“Just your public support when the announcement breaks tomorrow. I’ve already drafted a statement expressing your full confidence in the task force’s mission.”

I laugh. “You don’t leave much to chance, do you?”

“Not when it matters,” she says seriously.

“This task force might be the most important thing either of us accomplishes, Matteo. If our legislation gets watered down or delayed, the task force will already be working. If you lose a confidence vote, the task force continues. If I’m forced to resign, the task force remains. ”

“Creating institutional momentum that outlasts us both.”

“Exactly.” Her voice softens slightly. “I need to go. The task force members are arriving within the hour for their initial briefing.”

“Keep me updated,” I tell her. “And Gabriella… thank you.”

After hanging up, I find myself standing at the window again, my reflection ghostly against Rome’s afternoon glow.

The assassination attempt has changed something fundamental in me.

Death has brushed close enough that I can feel its cold breath, and it has stripped away any patience for political games.

My phone buzzes with a message from Sophia: Heard about Russo. Need to talk. Lunch?

* * *

Sophia waits at our usual corner table at Trattoria Moderna, her government security badge still hanging around her neck. As protocol officer working between the Italian government and the Vatican, my sister has developed an uncanny ability to read political currents.

“You look terrible,” she greets me as I sit down.

“Always the supportive sister.”

She pushes a glass of water toward me. “Three cabinet ministers are openly defying you, Carlos is playing both sides, and you’ve got that distracted look you get when you’re planning something reckless.”

“I’m planning to save our government while pushing through the most significant anti-corruption legislation in Italian history,” I counter. “Nothing reckless about that.”

Sophia studies me over her espresso. “There’s something else. You’ve been different since the Vatican meeting.”

I avoid her gaze, focusing on the menu I’ve memorized years ago. “Different how?”

“Distracted. Almost… preoccupied.” She leans closer. “What happened with Pope Pius?”

“Marco,” I correct automatically. “He prefers Marco.”

Her eyebrows rise. “First-name basis with the Pope already?”

“It was an unusual meeting.” I signal the waiter, ordering my usual without looking at the menu. “He’s not what you’d expect.”

“Meaning?”

I hesitate, unsure how to explain. “He’s genuine. Thoughtful. Surprisingly progressive in his thinking.”

“And extremely handsome,” Sophia adds casually.

My head snaps up. “What?”

“Just observing.” She stirs her coffee with maddening slowness. “The youngest Pope in centuries happens to look like a Renaissance painting of a sexy twink come to life, and you’ve been staring into space since meeting him.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’ve been distracted because someone tried to kill me last week and my government is imploding.”

“Of course.” She doesn’t bother hiding her skepticism. “So what’s your plan for salvaging the legislation?”

I welcome the subject change. “We need to identify the non-negotiables versus what we can compromise on.”

“Start with the disclosure requirements for family members,” she suggests. “That’s where the fiercest resistance is coming from.”

“That’s also where the most corruption hides.”

“Then stagger the implementation. Current officeholders disclose immediately, but family members get a six-month grace period.”

I consider this. “It creates a loophole.”

“It creates breathing room,” Sophia counters. “You need to give them something, Matteo.”

Our food arrives, and I realize I have no appetite despite having skipped breakfast. My mind keeps circling back to the Vatican Bank issue and Marco’s troubled expression when I mentioned the investigation.

“Earth to Matteo,” Sophia waves her hand before my face. “You disappeared again.”

“Sorry.” I force myself to focus. “The Vatican Bank has an ongoing investigation that might also connect to our corruption cases.”

Sophia lowers her voice. “That’s dangerous territory. The Church has powerful allies in parliament.”

“Which is exactly why it needs investigating.”

“One battle at a time,” she advises. “Secure your anti-corruption package first, then worry about the Vatican’s finances.”

I nod, but my thoughts have already drifted back to Marco’s library, the way his eyes lit up discussing reform, the unexpected comfort I felt in his presence.

“There you go again,” Sophia observes. “What exactly did you and the Pope discuss that’s got you so preoccupied?”

“Theology,” I answer vaguely.

“You hate theology.”

“I found his perspective… interesting.”

Sophia sets down her fork. “Matteo, I’ve known you your entire life. You’ve never found theological discussions ‘interesting.’”

I meet her gaze directly. “People can surprise you.”

“Yes,” she agrees with a knowing smile. “They certainly can.”

* * *

The emergency coalition meeting that afternoon makes the morning cabinet session look like a friendly chat. I sit at the head of the table while Riccardo distributes compromise proposals.

“These modifications preserve the core principles while addressing key concerns,” I explain, watching faces for reactions.

Finance Minister Russo, freshly returned from his media tour, scoffs openly. “These are cosmetic changes to fundamentally flawed legislation.”

“The legislation isn’t flawed,” Gabriella cuts in sharply. “Your understanding of ethical governance however might be.”

I raise a hand before the argument escalates. “We’ve incorporated extended compliance timelines for certain provisions and clarified exemptions for historical family holdings.”

“It’s still overreach,” Transportation Minister Vitelli objects. “The disclosure requirements for family members violate privacy rights.”

“Privacy rights don’t extend to hiding illicit wealth,” I counter.

Carlos clears his throat. “Perhaps we could further extend the compliance timeline for family disclosures? Twelve months instead of six?”

I feel the familiar frustration rising. Every concession weakens the legislation’s effectiveness, creates new loopholes for the corrupt to exploit.

My phone vibrates with an incoming message. I glance down discreetly.

Vatican Protocol Office: His Holiness requests a private meeting tomorrow regarding matters of mutual concern. Confidential. Please advise availability.

Something flutters in my chest that has nothing to do with political strategy. I find myself wondering if Marco has received similar push back for his Vatican Bank audit, if he too is fighting entrenched powers while appearing calm and collected.

“Prime Minister?” Carlos prompts. “Your thoughts on the extended timeline?”

I look up, aware I’ve missed part of the discussion. “I need to consider it carefully.”

Russo exchanges glances with Vitelli. “We need answers now, not after further consideration.”

“Then let me be clear,” I straighten in my chair. “I won’t gut this legislation to make corruption more convenient. But I will consider reasonable modifications that preserve its integrity while addressing legitimate concerns.”

“And who determines what’s ‘reasonable’?” Russo challenges.

“I do,” I state flatly. “That’s why the people elected me Prime Minister.”

The room falls silent. I can feel Carlos’s tension beside me, can practically hear him calculating political fallout as the gears turn in his politically astute mind.

“Review the compromise document,” I continue more diplomatically. “Submit specific language changes by tomorrow morning. We’ll reconvene at three.”

As the ministers file out, many avoiding eye contact, Gabriella lingers.

“You’re distracted today,” she observes quietly. “That’s unlike you.”

“Just weighing options.”

She nods toward my phone. “Important message?”

I hesitate. “The Pope has requested another meeting.”

“Regarding?”

“Matters of mutual concern. Probably the Vatican Bank.”

Gabriella’s expression grows serious. “Be careful there, Matteo. Church finances touch powerful interests both inside and outside Italy.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” She gathers her papers. “Because you’ve seemed elsewhere since your first meeting with him. We need you fully present for this fight.”

After she leaves, I sit alone in the conference room, staring at the message. I type a quick reply confirming my availability, then add a personal note:

Looking forward to continuing our discussion on matters both practical and theological.

I hesitate before sending it, surprised at my own eagerness to return to the Vatican. There’s something about Marco Ricci that pulls at me—his quiet conviction, his unexpected courage in challenging centuries of tradition. Or perhaps something more personal I’m not ready to examine.

I send the message, then turn back to the political crisis at hand, though my thoughts keep straying to tomorrow’s meeting and the young Pope with the thoughtful eyes.