Page 102 of His Forced Irish Mafia Bride

I pushed one last file aside and leaned back slightly. When Father Michael stepped into this room, he wouldn’t be walking into a conversation. He would be walking into the truth.

***

Father Michael arrived exactly how I’d expected him to. He looked composed when he stepped into the room—straight posture, calm face, and that familiar voice he always used, as if nothing around him could reach him. His eyes went to Maeve first, then to me.

“Sean,” he said, as if this was an ordinary meeting.

I pointed toward the chair. “Sit.”

He paused, then sat down slowly and carefully, like he was still trying to keep control of the situation. I gave him a few seconds. Then I opened the first file and slid it across the table.

“We found the payments,” I said.

His eyes dropped to it, but his expression stayed steady. I opened the next file and placed it beside the first. “And this.”

More records. Transfers. Dates. Routes. All clean at a glance, all inconsistent underneath.

His fingers pressed lightly into the chair. I opened another file and pointed at the names without waiting for a response.

He didn’t ask questions. That was the first change. His eyes started moving faster as he read. I opened the last file and pushed it forward.

“This doesn’t match your version of events,” I said. He didn’t look at me immediately. He kept reading the page.

Maeve stayed silent beside me, watching him.

Father Michael cleared his throat. “This was taken out of context,” he said.

His voice was still calm, but not fully steady.

I leaned forward slightly. “No,” I said. I tapped the page once. “This was your structure.”

He didn’t respond right away. His eyes moved across the documents again, slower now, as if he was searching for a way out.

There was none. I saw it in his expression. He leaned back in the chair, still controlled, but less certain than before.

“This is a misunderstanding,” he said. I didn’t react. I just watched him. That was the point where it started to break.

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. Maeve noticed it, too. I saw it in the way she shifted slightly beside me.

Father Michael looked up again. His confidence had weakened. “What exactly are you accusing me of?” he asked.

I held his gaze and let the silence stay for a moment before answering. “You already know.”

Father Michael didn’t speak for a while.

He tried to keep the same calm face, the same steady posture, but it didn’t hold the room the way it used to.

I leaned forward a little. “Start from the beginning.”

He looked at me. “I’ve already explained—”

“No,” I cut in. “Not the version you’ve told me before. The real one.”

Silence. Maeve moved slightly beside me, but I kept my eyes on him. He exhaled slowly, like he was weighing every option left. Then he nodded.

“Fine,” he said. I opened the file again, but I didn’t need it in front of him anymore. I already knew what was inside it. I just needed him to say it.

“You arranged the weapons deal,” I said.