“For courage,” she says simply before disappearing back into the crowd.
In my palm lies a small rainbow pin. I close my fingers around it, this tiny symbol of a larger truth.
Inside the car, as we pull away from the chaos, I finally allow myself to feel everything I’ve suppressed during the speech—fear, relief,uncertainty, hope.
“Where to, sir?” my driver asks.
I look out at Rome passing by—the ancient city that has witnessed empires rise and fall, that has survived scandals and wars and transformations beyond counting.
“The office,” I tell him. “We have work to do.”
23
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 RAINews. 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 afolder. “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.
* * *
