The author was inspired by these words in writing the title and this novel and gives thanks to THE ONE above.

Chapter 20: The Subpoena Storm

The first subpoena arrived on a Tuesday morning, exactly one week after Judge Morrison's ruling. Delores found it slipped under her apartment door when she returned from her morning run, the official seal of the Georgia Court of Appeals stark against the manila envelope. Her hands trembled as she read the formal language demanding her appearance for deposition in Craig's appeal of the inheritance decision.

But it was the second envelope, delivered an hour later by certified mail, that made her blood run cold. This one was addressed to Serina at her workplace, demanding all records, communications, and documentation related to her relationship with Delores Morrison. The legal language was clinical and invasive: "All photographs, text messages, emails, social media posts, and other communications between the parties from January 1st to present."

"They're going after you now," Delores said when she called Serina at work, her voice tight with anger and fear. "Craig's legal team is subpoenaing your personal records, your work files, everything."

"I expected this," Serina replied, though Delores could hear the strain in her voice. "Rebecca warned us that an appeal would mean escalated tactics. But knowing it's coming doesn't make it feel less invasive."

"I'm so sorry. I never wanted to drag you into this legal nightmare."

"You didn't drag me anywhere. I chose to be here, chose to love you, chose to stand with you regardless of the consequences." Serina's voice grew stronger. "Besides, if they think they can intimidate me into abandoning you, they've seriously underestimated who they're dealing with."

By noon, the subpoenas had multiplied like a virus. Dr. Martinez received one demanding all therapy records related to Delores's transition and mental health. Maria got one requiring her to testify about Delores's "lifestyle choices" and romantic relationships. Even Janet from the support group was served with papers demanding information about the meetings Delores attended and the "nature of activities" that took place there.

Rebecca's office became a war room as they tried to respond to the legal assault. The attorney's normally composed demeanor showed cracks of anger as she reviewed the stack of subpoenas Craig's team had unleashed.

"This is a fishing expedition designed to intimidate and harass," Rebecca said, her voice sharp with professional outrage. "They're hoping to overwhelm you with legal costs and emotional exhaustion, to make you give up rather than continue fighting."

"Can they do this? Can they really force my therapist to turn over confidential records?"

"They can try. We'll fight every subpoena that violates doctor-patient privilege or attorney-client privilege. But some of these..." Rebecca held up the subpoena directed at Serina's workplace. "Some of these might be harder to quash. They're arguing that your relationship is central to their case about the celibacy clause."

Delores felt sick. "So they can force Serina to testify about our private life? They can make our love into evidence?"

"They can try. But remember, we're not hiding anything. Your relationship with Serina is exactly what we want the court to see—a committed, loving partnership between two adults. If that's what Craig considers evidence of moral failing, it only strengthens our argument that his definition of morality is fundamentally flawed."

The media attention intensified as news of the appeal and the aggressive subpoena tactics spread. Delores found reporters camped outside her apartment building, shouting questions about her relationship, her transition, her family's rejection. The local news ran segments about the case with headlines like "Transgender Inheritance Battle Escalates" and "Family Values vs. Civil Rights."

The worst part was the comment sections on news websites and social media posts. Delores made the mistake of reading them once and immediately regretted it. Strangers debated her worthiness, her authenticity, her right to exist. Some supported her fight for equality, but others expressed views that made her stomach turn: "Timothy Morrison is a man pretending to be a woman for money." "This is what happens when we let mental illness masquerade as civil rights." "The parents had every right to protect their estate from this perversion."

"You have to stop reading that garbage," Serina said, finding Delores hunched over her laptop in tears. "Those people don't know you, don't understand your journey, don't have any right to judge your worth."

"But what if they're right? What if I am just a selfish person putting my own desires above my family's wishes?"

"Stop." Serina's voice was firm but gentle. "You are not selfish for wanting to exist authentically. You are not wrong for fighting discrimination. You are not less worthy of love because some strangers on the internet can't handle your truth."

The subpoenas kept coming. Craig's legal team cast an increasingly wide net, demanding records from Delores's employer, her bank, her medical providers. They subpoenaed the community center where the support group met, demanding attendance records and meeting minutes. They even served papers on the restaurant where she and Serina had their first official date, requesting security camera footage from that evening.

"This is beyond aggressive," Rebecca said during an emergency meeting in her office. "This is harassment disguised as legal discovery. They're trying to turn every aspect of your life into evidence, to make your very existence feel like a crime."

"What can we do to stop it?"

"We fight back. We file motions to quash the most invasive subpoenas. We argue that this fishing expedition violates your privacy rights and serves no legitimate legal purpose." Rebecca's expression grew more determined. "And we prepare our own discovery requests. If Craig wants to play hardball, we'll show the court exactly what kind of person he is."

The psychological toll was immediate and devastating. Delores found herself jumping at every knock on her door, screening every phone call, avoiding public places where she might be photographed or approached by reporters. The simple act of holding Serina's hand in public now felt fraught with legal implications.

"I feel like I'm living in a fishbowl," she told Dr. Martinez during an emergency therapy session. "Every moment of my life is being scrutinized, documented, prepared for use as evidence against me."

"How is this affecting your relationship with Serina?"

"I keep wanting to protect her from this. I keep thinking that maybe she'd be better off without me, without all this legal chaos and media attention."

"And what does Serina say about that?"

"She says she's not going anywhere. She says she'd rather fight this battle with me than live safely without me." Delores felt tears starting to form. "But what if I'm being selfish? What if I'm asking too much of her?"

"Delores, love always involves risk. The question isn't whether you're asking too much—it's whether what you're building together is worth the challenges you're facing."

The breaking point came when Craig's team subpoenaed Serina's employer, demanding all records related to her work with LGBTQ+ youth. The implication was clear: they were trying to paint her job as evidence of "recruitment" or "indoctrination," to suggest that her professional advocacy somehow invalidated her personal relationships.

"They're trying to destroy my career," Serina said, her voice shaking with anger as she read the subpoena. "They're suggesting that my work with at-risk youth is somehow connected to my relationship with you, that I'm part of some agenda to corrupt children."

"This is exactly what I was afraid of," Delores said, pacing her apartment like a caged animal. "They're not just coming after me anymore—they're coming after everyone I love, everyone who supports me."

"Then we fight harder. We show them that love is stronger than hate, that community is stronger than isolation, that truth is stronger than prejudice."

But even as Serina spoke with determination, Delores could see the strain in her eyes, the way the constant legal pressure was wearing down her usual optimism. The woman who had once spoken so confidently about standing together through any challenge now looked exhausted, overwhelmed by the relentless assault on their privacy and dignity.

The support group meeting that week was smaller than usual. Several members had received subpoenas or been contacted by Craig's investigators, and the fear was palpable. Janet tried to maintain the usual atmosphere of acceptance and support, but the legal cloud hanging over them made authentic sharing feel dangerous.

"I'm sorry," Delores said to the group, her voice heavy with guilt. "I'm sorry that my legal battle is affecting all of you, that your privacy is being violated because of your association with me."

"Don't you dare apologize," Marcus said fiercely. "We're family here. When one of us is under attack, we all are. When one of us fights for the right to exist authentically, we all benefit."

"But the subpoenas, the investigators—"

"Are proof that we're winning," Elena interjected. "They wouldn't be this desperate, this aggressive, if they weren't scared of losing. They wouldn't be trying to intimidate us if they were confident in their legal position."

The worst subpoena arrived on a Friday afternoon: a demand for all medical records related to Delores's transition, including surgical records, hormone therapy documentation, and psychological evaluations. The legal language was clinical but the intent was clear—they wanted to use her medical history as evidence that she was mentally ill, that her transition was a delusion rather than an authentic expression of her identity.

"This crosses every line of medical privacy," Rebecca said, her voice tight with outrage. "They're trying to turn your healthcare into evidence against you, to suggest that seeking treatment for gender dysphoria somehow disqualifies you from inheritance."

"Can they do that? Can they really force my doctors to turn over confidential medical records?"

"They can try, but we'll fight it with everything we have. Medical records related to transition are protected by multiple layers of privacy law. But Delores..." Rebecca's expression grew more serious. "You need to understand that if this goes to a full trial, your medical history might become part of the public record. Are you prepared for that level of exposure?"

Delores thought about the strangers who already felt entitled to debate her worthiness online, about the reporters who shouted questions about her "real" gender, about the way her most private medical decisions could become fodder for public consumption.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for that."

That night, as she lay in bed beside Serina, Delores found herself questioning everything. The inheritance that had once seemed so important now felt like a burden, a prize that came with costs she hadn't fully understood. The legal victory that had felt so sweet just weeks earlier now seemed hollow in the face of the ongoing assault on her privacy and dignity.

"What if we just gave up?" she whispered into the darkness. "What if I just withdrew the challenge, let Craig have the money, tried to rebuild our lives without all this legal chaos?"

Serina was quiet for a long moment before responding. "Is that what you want to do?"

"I want to protect you. I want to protect everyone I love from this harassment. I want to go back to living quietly, privately, without having strangers debate my worthiness in comment sections."

"But is that really living? Or is that just surviving?"

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with implications. Delores knew the answer, even if she didn't want to admit it. Giving up now would mean letting Craig win, would mean accepting that her parents' prejudices were more important than her right to equal treatment. It would mean teaching other LGBTQ+ individuals that the cost of fighting discrimination was too high to pay.

"I'm scared," she admitted. "I'm scared of what they'll do next, scared of how much more invasive this will get, scared of what it's costing you to stand with me."

"I'm scared too," Serina replied. "But I'm more scared of what happens if we don't fight. I'm more scared of living in a world where love can be used as evidence against you, where authenticity is treated as a crime, where families can legally erase their children for being themselves."

The subpoena storm was working exactly as Craig's team had intended. Delores felt isolated, overwhelmed, constantly under siege. Every relationship in her life was being weaponized against her, every moment of happiness being transformed into potential evidence of moral failing.

But as she lay in the darkness, listening to Serina's steady breathing, she realized something important: the storm was also revealing the strength of the community that had formed around her. Rebecca was fighting every invasive subpoena with fierce determination. Beau was using his theological authority to challenge the religious arguments being used against her. Her support group was standing together despite the legal pressure. Her chosen family was refusing to be intimidated.

Most importantly, Serina was still there. Despite the subpoenas, despite the media attention, despite the attempts to use their love as a weapon against them, she was still choosing to stay, still choosing to fight, still choosing to love openly despite the cost.

The bad guys were closing in, but they weren't winning. They were revealing their desperation, their willingness to violate privacy and dignity in pursuit of their goals. They were showing the court and the public exactly what kind of people they were, exactly what lengths they would go to deny basic human rights.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new subpoenas, new attempts to make her life feel like a crime. But tonight, she would rest in the knowledge that she was not alone, that love was stronger than hate, that truth had a way of surviving even the most determined attempts to bury it.

The storm was raging, but she was still standing. And as long as she was standing, she was winning.