Chapter 38 Adrian
ADRIAN
The walk to the Bishop’s temporary office feels like a death march. My cassock swishes against my legs with each step, the familiar sound now feeling like a countdown to our destruction.
Charlie walks beside me, her simple cotton dress clinging to her making her look even younger than her years.
Marcus follows close behind, his tattooed arms rigid at his sides, every muscle coiled with tension.
Elijah brings up the rear, his usual angelic composure already cracking at the edges.
Sister Margaret stands outside the office like a sentinel, her sharp blue eyes tracking our approach with unnerving precision.
Her notebook is already open, pen poised to record everything.
She doesn’t speak, just opens the door and gestures us inside with a thin smile that makes my stomach drop.
The Bishop sits behind the borrowed desk, his steel-gray hair catching the afternoon light streaming through the window.
His deep-set eyes move between the four of us as we file in, cataloging every detail.
The way Charlie positions herself slightly behind me, seeking protection.
How Marcus’s hand flexes at his side like he’s fighting the urge to reach for her. The careful distance Elijah maintains despite the fear written across his face.
“Please, sit.” The Bishop’s voice is measured, almost kind, which somehow makes it worse.
There aren’t enough chairs. Charlie and I take the two facing the desk while Marcus and Elijah stand behind us, their presence both comforting and damning.
I can feel the heat radiating from Charlie’s body beside me, can smell the vanilla and cinnamon scent that’s become as necessary as air.
My hands grip my rosary beads until they cut into my palm, using the pain to ground myself.
The Bishop folds his hands on the desk, his ruby ring catching the light.
“I’ve received a formal complaint from Robert Chen regarding Brother Moreau’s conduct with his daughter, Sarah.
” His gaze finds Elijah. “The allegations are serious. Grooming. Inappropriate touching. Declarations of romantic interest that were later denied to cover misconduct.”
Elijah’s face pales, panic setting in. Charlie’s breath catches beside me, and I feel her body go rigid. Marcus’s jaw clenches so hard I hear his teeth grind.
“Those allegations are false.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel, the priest’s training taking over even as rage simmers beneath my carefully controlled exterior. “Completely and demonstrably false.”
The Bishop’s eyebrow rises slightly. “You sound very certain, Father Cross.”
“I am certain.” I lean forward, my hands still gripping the rosary beads. “Because I’ve been monitoring the situation since it first became concerning. Sarah Chen developed an obsessive crush on Brother Moreau. We have documentation.”
I pull the folder from beneath my cassock, the one we prepared last night in desperate preparation for this moment.
Inside are printed screenshots of Sarah’s social media posts, the notes she left for Elijah, and witness statements from other choir members who observed her behavior.
The Bishop takes the folder, his expression unreadable as he begins reviewing the contents.
Sister Margaret moves closer, reading over his shoulder, her pen scratching across paper with each new piece of evidence.
“This post,” I point to one of the screenshots, “shows Sarah publicly claiming Elijah as ‘someone special’ after he accepted a gift from her. A gift he tried to refuse but was pressured into accepting to avoid embarrassing her in front of the entire congregation.”
The Bishop studies the image, his steel-gray eyes narrowing slightly. I watch his face for any sign of what he’s thinking, but he’s as controlled as I’m trying to be.
“Brother Moreau rejected her advances clearly and professionally,” I continue, my voice gaining strength. “Multiple times. He maintained appropriate boundaries. He never touched her inappropriately, never made declarations of love, and never gave her any reason to believe he had romantic feelings.”
“Then why would she make these accusations?” The Bishop’s question is pointed, challenging.
“Because she’s seventeen and heartbroken.
” Charlie’s voice surprises us all. She’s been so quiet I almost forgot she was there, but now she leans forward, her hazel eyes fierce with determination.
“I watched her, Your Excellency. I saw how she looked at Elijah, how possessive she became. When he rejected her, she was humiliated. This is revenge.”
The Bishop’s gaze shifts to Charlie, and I see him cataloging every detail.
The way her dress gapes slightly at the neckline, revealing the curve of her collarbone.
The flush on her cheeks from emotion. The protective fury in her eyes as she defends Elijah.
I want to pull her close, to shield her from his scrutiny, but I force myself to remain still.
“Miss Davis,” the Bishop says slowly, “you seem very invested in Brother Moreau’s defense.”
“I’m invested in the truth.” Her voice doesn’t waver. “Sarah Chen is lying. I saw her confess and Brother Elijah’s rejection, and I can prove it.”
She pulls out her phone, navigating to saved screenshots.
“One of Sarah’s friends sent me these this morning.
These are from Sarah’s private social media accounts.
Posts she made to friends, talking about her ‘plan’ to make Elijah jealous by flirting with other men.
Messages where she discusses how to ‘make him see’ that they belong together.
” Charlie’s hands shake slightly as she shows the Bishop.
“This isn’t a victim coming forward. This is a teenage girl weaponizing false accusations because she didn’t get what she wanted. ”
Sister Margaret’s pen stills. I watch her expression shift from calculating to troubled as she reads the messages over the Bishop’s shoulder.
Marcus steps forward, his accent thickening with barely contained rage.
“I witnessed Sarah’s behavior during choir rehearsals.
She would position herself near Brother Moreau and find excuses to touch his arm and his shoulder.
She would stay after practice to monopolize his time.
” His dark eyes burn with protective fury.
“Elijah was professional. Patient. Kind. He did everything right, and she’s punishing him for it. ”
The Bishop is quiet for a long moment, his gaze moving between the evidence spread across his desk and the four of us standing before him. The silence stretches until it’s almost unbearable.
“These are serious counter-allegations,” he says finally. “Accusing a minor of fabricating abuse claims is not something I take lightly.”
“Neither do we.” My voice drops to something dangerous, the underground boxer bleeding through despite my attempts at control.
“But we won’t let an innocent man be destroyed by lies.
Brother Moreau has served this parish with honor and integrity.
He deserves better than to have his reputation shredded by a teenager’s vindictive fantasy. ”
The Bishop’s steel-gray eyes hold mine, and I see something flicker in their depths.
Understanding, maybe. Or recognition of the violence I’m barely suppressing.
“I’ll need time to review all of this. To speak with other choir members and investigate further.
” He closes the folder. “In the meantime, Brother Moreau will be placed on administrative leave pending the outcome of this investigation.”
“No.” The word bursts from Elijah before he can stop it. “Your Excellency, please. This parish is my life. If you remove me, even temporarily, it validates Sarah’s lies.”
“It protects you,” the Bishop counters. “And it protects the parish from further accusations while I determine the truth.”
I watch Elijah’s face crumble.
Fear and shame war in his eyes.
Charlie reaches back instinctively, her hand finding his, and I see the Bishop’s gaze sharpen at the gesture.
She realizes her mistake immediately and pulls away, but the damage is done.
“Miss Davis,” the Bishop says quietly, “your concern for Brother Moreau is noted. As is the concern all of you seem to share for each other.” His tone suggests he’s seeing far more than we want him to see.
“I’ll make my other decision within forty-eight hours, after I investigate Miss Chen. Until then, you’re all dismissed.”
We file out in silence, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down like a physical thing. Sister Margaret’s knowing look follows us down the hallway, and I know she’s already adding this interaction to whatever report she’s building.
The evening passes in a blur of forced normalcy. Dinner with the parish council.
Evening prayers.
Paperwork that needs reviewing.
I go through the motions while my mind spins through worst-case scenarios.
Elijah losing his position.
The investigation expanding to include Marcus and me.
Charlie being questioned more aggressively about her role in all of this.
By the time the church empties and silence settles over St. Michael’s, I’m wound so tight I can barely breathe.
I need to pray, to find some kind of peace in the chaos, to remember why I chose this life in the first place.
The sanctuary is dark except for the votive candles flickering in their red glass holders along the side aisle.
I kneel before the altar, my rosary beads cutting into my palms as I grip them.
The familiar prayers flow from my lips automatically, but my mind can’t focus.
All I can think about is Elijah’s face when the Bishop announced his suspension.
Charlie’s fierce defense despite the risk to herself. Marcus’s fury.
The family we’ve built in the shadows is falling apart.
God, give me strength. Give me wisdom. Show me how to protect them.
The prayer feels hollow, like my words are bouncing off the vaulted ceiling instead of reaching Heaven.
Maybe I’ve fallen too far for God to hear me anymore.
Maybe loving Charlie, loving all of them in this unconventional, forbidden way, has severed whatever connection I once had to the divine.
I hear footsteps behind me, soft and hesitant. I don’t need to turn to know it’s her. Charlie’s presence changes the air, makes it electric, charged with everything we can’t say, can’t do, can’t be.
She doesn’t speak, just moves closer until she’s kneeling beside me on the worn cushion.
Her simple dress rides up slightly as she settles, revealing more of her thighs, and I force my gaze back to the altar. But I’m hyperaware of every detail.
The way her chest rises and falls with each breath. The pulse hammering in her throat. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon that makes my body respond despite everything.
The heat of her body so close makes my breath catch. I want to reach for her, to pull her against me and forget everything else exists.
Want to bury my face in her neck and breathe her in until the Bishop’s investigation and Sarah’s lies and Tommy’s threats all fade to nothing.
Want to claim her right here in this sacred space, make her mine so completely that no one could ever question who she belongs to.
Instead, I close my eyes and continue praying while she stays beside me, her presence both torture and comfort.