All Chapters of FUCKED BY THE FAKE PRIEST : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Father Damien left the mansion escorted by Arnold and Anna, the afternoon sun shining long shadows across the stone driveway. The iron gates cracked open slowly, their sound echoing through the quiet estate like a warning bell. Arnold walked beside Father Damien, his posture polite but guarded. He spoke of unimportant matters—the road conditions, the weather, the upcoming charity event—but his eyes missed nothing. He observed how Father Damien adjusted his glasses too often, how his steps were slightly hurried, as if his thoughts were already elsewhere. Anna followed a few steps behind them. When they reached the car, Father Damien turned, offering a brief nod of farewell. “May peace remain in this house,” he said calmly. “And may you have a safe journey, Father,” Arnold replied, opening the door for him. As Father Damien entered the car, Anna smiled. It was brief—almost imperial —but it was there. She turned immediately and headed back into the mansion without another word. T

SAME DAY – NIGHT Night settled over the mansion like a heavy veil. The halls, once alive with distant footsteps and murmured orders, now felt hollow. Shadows clung to the walls, stretching long and thin under the dim lights. Anna sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Her uncle’s words would not leave her mind. Once the papers are signed. No turning back. Every sound made her flinch—the rustle of trees outside, the soft click of a door somewhere below, the distant echo of voices she could not quite place. She rose slowly and crossed to the window. Outside, headlights cut briefly through the darkness as vehicles moved in and out of the compound. More than usual. Her heart sank. Guards. Arnold was tightening his grip. Downstairs, Arnold stood in the main hall, his voice low and authoritative as he addressed the men before him. “I want eyes everywhere,” he said. “No blind spots. No gaps.” “Yes, sir,” one of the guards replied. “Double the night

SAME NIGHT – AT THE COUNTRYSIDE. Miles away from the mansion, Anna’s mother sat alone in a dimly lit apartment, a folder spread open on the table before her. Photographs, notes, and partial reports were scattered across the surface like an unfinished puzzle. She rubbed her temples, frustration etched across her face. The man she had paid sat opposite her, avoiding eye contact. “That’s all?” she asked sharply. “That’s all you could find after weeks?” The man shrugged. “Arnold keeps that place sealed tight. No records. No visitors without clearance. Everyone I spoke to suddenly forgot how to talk.” Anna’s mother leaned back slowly, her jaw tightening. “My daughter lives there,” she said quietly. “And you’re telling me there’s nothing?” “I’m telling you,” the man replied carefully, “that whatever is going on inside that mansion, it’s protected. Someone very powerful doesn’t want questions asked.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, her mind already racing. If money could

AT THE CHAPEL Father Damien slipped silently through the shadows of the tiled road, his coat brushing against the wall grass. The cab had dropped him off a few streets away from the chapel, but the dim light from its headlights lingered in his eyes as he approached the heavy wooden doors. Sister Vera, who had been tidying the chapel, noticed movement near the entrance. She blinked, heart skipping. Someone was coming in—but it wasn’t Father Damien. Or so she thought. “Father Damien?” she called cautiously. He startled slightly, then organized himself. “Sister Vera,” he said, forcing a calmness he didn’t feel. “I… I was looking for a restaurant. Hungry, you know.” Sister Vera narrowed her eyes, sensing something off. “At this hour?” He smiled faintly, but there was a tension in his posture she couldn’t ignore. She wanted to accuse him of lying, but she had no proof. With a faint nod, she stepped back. “Very well. But be careful, Father.” Damien gave a modest bow and moved

EARLY MORNING — IN THE COUNTRY SIDE. Mrs. Ruth woke before dawn, her body stiff with unease. The room was still dark, but sleep had abandoned her hours ago. She lay staring at the ceiling, her mind replaying the lie she had told the night before. “I’m traveling to visit my sister in the U.S.,” she had said casually. William had looked at her for a long moment, confused. He knew her too well. “You don’t have a sister in the U.S., Ruth.” She had smiled, already packing her small suitcase. “I reconnected with her years ago. I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t important.” It was a weak lie, and she knew it. Now, as she quietly dressed, she felt the weight of guilt pressing on her chest—but fear outweighed it. Something was wrong with Anna. A mother knew. The phone calls that stopped suddenly, the strained voice the last time they spoke, the silence that followed—it all screamed danger. She zipped her bag softly and turned to look at William, who was sleeping. For a momen