All Chapters of FUCKED BY THE FAKE PRIEST : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Sister Vera was confused. The documents she had kept were no longer in her office. Her keys had always been with her; no one came in except her, and now she couldn’t find the documents. She felt a strange presence around the chapel, yet she couldn’t figure it out. She kept reminiscing about what had followed while walking to Father Damien’s room. She knocked. No answer. “Father Damien,” she called, with another sharp knock. Still no response. Where could he have been? She knocked again. “Father Damien?” Or was he sleeping? There was no way he would tell her he had forgotten the council meeting. She kept knocking and knocking until she felt pain in her knuckles. Sister Vera grew angry as she walked back to the meeting hall. All the council members were looking at her as she stepped in, their eyes fixed on the door. They thought Father Damien would come in after Sister Vera. “He’s not there,” Sister Vera spoke up. They all fell into despair.. AT THE MANSI

“You found her where?” Fred asked. The voice on the call spoke to Fred for some minutes. “Okay… I will be there now. Make sure you all take your stands. Nothing must go wrong.” “Okay, boss,” the voice said as Fred hung up. He walked up to Father Damien’s room. He knocked. Father Damien opened. He had returned from the clinic with the help of the nurse. Still, he didn’t allow her to help him inside. He managed to go in himself. He was about settling in when Fred’s knock came. Fred walked in as Father Damien shut the door. “How’s your ankle?” he asked. Father Damien leant slowly to sit on the bed. He sighed. “Getting better, I guess.” “You will be fine,” Fred assured him. Father Damien nodded. “But I’m worried I won’t be able to visit Anna tonight. I believe she’s expecting me to be there. I need to bring some food to her like I have always done.” “Yeah, you’re right. I will get someone to do that for you tonight, okay? Your sister will be fine.” Father

Sister Vera sat alone in her small room, with so many thoughts on her mind, when a brilliant idea struck. “Oh yes the cathedral”, she said to herself. She picked up her phone to make a call. She was privileged to call the cathedral at any time because she was the oldest nun in her parish, so the bishop granted her that privilege. The phone rang On the third ring, a man picked up she held the phone to her ears as they both spoke for a while. The expression on her face that was once bright changed, and the shine from her phone lit her worried face. The room was quiet—too quiet for her racing thoughts. A small crucifix hung tilted above her bed, casting a thin shadow against the wall as the evening breeze dropped through the half-open window. Her fingers shook slightly as she was about to end the call. “So you’re telling me,” she had said moments earlier, her voice careful but sharp, “that no new priest was transferred to this parish some months ago?” There had been a pause on th

MORNING SHADOWS Morning crept quietly into the chapel, pale light slipping through the tall windows and settling gently across the room. Father Damien stirred. Pain pulsed once in his ankle, then faded. He sat up slowly, testing his weight. It held. He exhaled in relief. The door opened softly. Sister Vera stepped in, a small tray in her hands. “Don’t rush,” she said calmly. “Healing listens to patience.” “I can walk,” he said, surprising himself. “Yes,” she replied. “Because I made sure you could.” She set the tray down and crossed her arms. “But you will no longer stand on the pulpit.” Father Damien looked at her. “You are not a real priest,” she continued firmly. “And I will not have you risking exposure. You help Anna in other ways now.” He nodded. “Okay, Sister Vera.” He sighed in relief. At least Sister Vera had made his job easier. Standing at the altar and conducting services was something he hated doing. “So,” Father Damien continued, “what will

ELSEWHERE… Fred’s phone rang just as he was locking the door to his apartment, preparing to go meet Father Damien. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately. “We’ve seen her,” one of his men said. “She just walked into a hotel downtown. We’re certain it’s Mrs. Ruth.” Fred stopped walking. “Certain how?” he asked, his voice low and sharp. “She matches the description. Same woman. She looks exactly like Anna.” Fred inhaled slowly. “Listen to me carefully,” he said. “If you’re wrong, don’t ever call me again. Make sure you’re not playing with my time.” “We’re sure, boss.” The line went dead. Fred slid his phone into his pocket, grabbed his car keys, and headed out. Whatever fragile balance still existed was about to shatter. ⸻ THE MANSION Arnold’s phone buzzed moments later. He glanced at the message, then smiled—a slow, satisfied smile that reached his eyes. “So,” he murmured, rising from his chair, “she’s still in Sicily.” He turned to the men