Demands My Soul -16-

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

Chapter 16: Cracks in the Façade

The photograph arrived on a Tuesday morning, slipped under Delores's apartment door like a threat wrapped in innocuous white paper. She found it when she returned from her morning jog, still flushed with endorphins and the memory of Serina's goodbye kiss from the night before. The envelope bore no return address, no postmark—just her name written in block letters across the front.

Inside was a single 8x10 print: herself and Serina at the art festival three days earlier, captured in the moment when they had been examining the pottery demonstration. Their hands were clasped, their heads bent close together, their faces relaxed with the kind of intimacy that spoke of genuine connection. It was a beautiful photograph, actually—the kind that might have made her smile under different circumstances.

But written across the bottom in red ink were the words: "Evidence of moral failing - T. Morrison estate case."

Delores sank onto her couch, the photograph trembling in her hands. Someone had been watching them. Someone had been documenting their relationship, turning their moments of happiness into weapons for Craig's legal arsenal. The art festival, which had felt like a sanctuary of authentic living, had actually been a trap.

Her phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: More where this came from. Withdraw your challenge to the will, or your private life becomes very public. You have 48 hours.

The call to Rebecca came immediately, Delores's voice shaking as she described the photograph and the threatening message.

"This is intimidation, pure and simple," Rebecca said, her voice tight with anger. "Craig's team is trying to scare you into backing down by threatening to expose your relationship."

"But they can expose it, can't they? In court, I mean. This photograph, others like it—they can use them as evidence that I'm violating the celibacy clause."

"They can try. But Delores, listen to me carefully—this kind of surveillance, this threatening behavior, it actually helps our case. It shows that Craig is so desperate to win that he's willing to violate your privacy and engage in what amounts to stalking."

Delores stared at the photograph, seeing not just herself and Serina but the violation of trust it represented. "I feel so stupid. I thought we were just having a normal day together, just being a couple in love. I never imagined someone was watching us, documenting us."

"You shouldn't have to imagine that. You should be able to live your life without fear of surveillance." Rebecca's voice grew more determined. "We're going to use this, Delores. We're going to show the court exactly what kind of tactics Craig is willing to employ to deny you your inheritance."

"What if there are more photographs? What if they have pictures of us at Serina's apartment, or..." Delores's voice trailed off as she realized the full implications. "What if they've been watching us since the beginning?"

"Then we'll deal with that too. But I want you to understand something—your relationship with Serina is not evidence of moral failing. It's evidence of your capacity to love and be loved, which is exactly what we want the court to see."

After the call ended, Delores sat in her apartment feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way she hadn't experienced since her early days of transition. The walls that had once felt like protection now seemed porous, inadequate against the kind of scrutiny that could turn love into evidence and happiness into liability.

She called Serina, who arrived within the hour, her face pale with anger when she saw the photograph.

"This is unconscionable," Serina said, holding the print with obvious distaste. "Your own brother is having you stalked, turning your private moments into weapons against you."

"I'm so sorry," Delores said, feeling the weight of guilt settle on her shoulders. "I never meant to drag you into this. I never meant for your life to become part of Craig's war against my existence."

"Stop." Serina's voice was firm but gentle. "You didn't drag me into anything. I chose to be here, chose to be with you, chose to take this journey knowing it might get complicated."

"But this is more than complicated. This is invasive, threatening. They're treating our love like it's criminal."

"Then we show them that love is never criminal, that authentic relationships are worth fighting for regardless of what small-minded people think." Serina moved to sit beside Delores on the couch, taking her hands. "I'm not going anywhere, Delores. Not because of some photograph, not because of legal threats, not because your brother thinks our love is evidence of moral failing."

"What if there are more? What if they have pictures of us at your apartment, of us being intimate?"

"Then we'll face that together too. Because I'd rather have my private life exposed than have you sacrifice your authentic self to satisfy their prejudices."

They spent the morning going through Delores's apartment, checking for signs of surveillance equipment, examining windows and doorways for evidence that someone had been watching. They found nothing obvious, but the violation felt complete anyway—the knowledge that their private moments might have been observed, documented, prepared for use as ammunition in a legal battle.

"I keep thinking about that day at the festival," Delores said as they sat in her kitchen, sharing coffee and trying to process the morning's revelation. "How happy we were, how normal it felt. And the whole time, someone was watching us, turning our joy into evidence against me."

"Our joy is not evidence against you. Our love is not proof of moral failing. The only thing that photograph proves is that you're capable of authentic connection, that you're living as your true self."

"But the celibacy clause—"

"Is discriminatory and probably unenforceable. Rebecca said so herself." Serina reached across the table and took Delores's hand. "Besides, we haven't violated any celibacy requirements. We're in a committed, loving relationship. If that's not moral behavior, then I don't know what is."

Delores felt tears starting to form. "I'm scared, Serina. Not just of losing the inheritance, but of what this exposure might cost you. Your job, your reputation, your privacy—all of it could be collateral damage in Craig's war against me."

"My job involves advocating for LGBTQ+ youth who've been rejected by their families. If anything, being publicly supportive of someone fighting family discrimination enhances my credibility." Serina's smile was fierce. "As for my reputation, I'd rather be known as someone who stands with the people she loves than someone who hides from controversy."

The second photograph arrived that afternoon, this one slipped under Serina's apartment door while they were at lunch. It showed them walking hand in hand through Virginia-Highland, their faces relaxed with contentment, their body language speaking of intimacy and connection.

This time, the message was more explicit: "Lesbian relationship violates moral standards. 24 hours to withdraw challenge."

"They're escalating," Delores said, staring at the image with a mixture of anger and fear. "First they document us, then they threaten us, now they're giving ultimatums."

"Good," Serina said, surprising her with the vehemence in her voice. "Let them escalate. Let them show the court exactly what kind of people they are, exactly what lengths they're willing to go to deny you your basic rights."

"You're not scared?"

"I'm terrified. But I'm also furious, and fury is a much more useful emotion than fear." Serina picked up the photograph and studied it with clinical detachment. "Look at this image, Delores. Really look at it. What do you see?"

Delores forced herself to examine the photograph objectively. "I see two women who care about each other. I see happiness, connection, the kind of love that makes people better versions of themselves."

"Exactly. And if Craig's team thinks that's evidence of moral failing, then they're going to have to explain to a judge why love is immoral, why authentic relationships are violations of family values."

"What if the judge agrees with them? What if the court decides that my relationship with you disqualifies me from the inheritance?"

"Then we'll appeal. And if we lose the appeal, we'll still have each other, we'll still have our chosen family, we'll still have lives worth living." Serina's expression grew more serious. "But I don't think we're going to lose. I think Craig has overplayed his hand, and I think the court is going to see this for what it really is—harassment and discrimination disguised as moral principle."

That evening, they met with Rebecca at her office, the photographs spread across the conference table like evidence of a crime. The attorney studied them with professional detachment, making notes about angles and lighting and the obvious signs of telephoto surveillance.

"This is actually good for us," Rebecca said, surprising them both. "These photographs show that Craig's team is so desperate they're willing to engage in what amounts to stalking. It demonstrates the lengths they'll go to deny you equal treatment."

"But don't they also prove that I'm in a relationship?" Delores asked. "Don't they violate the celibacy clause?"

"They prove that you're capable of love, which is exactly what we want the court to see. As for the celibacy clause, we're challenging its validity anyway." Rebecca leaned back in her chair. "Besides, these photographs show a committed, loving relationship between two adults. If that's what Craig considers moral failing, then his definition of morality is seriously flawed."

"What about the threats? The ultimatums?"

"We're documenting everything. If this goes to court, we'll present evidence of the harassment and intimidation tactics being used against you. Judges don't like it when one party tries to win through threats and coercion."

Delores felt some of her tension beginning to ease. "So what do we do now?"

"We ignore the ultimatum. We continue building our case. And we prepare for the possibility that more photographs might surface." Rebecca's expression grew more serious. "I need you both to understand that this is likely just the beginning. If Craig's team is willing to engage in surveillance and intimidation, they're probably prepared to escalate further."

"What kind of escalation?" Serina asked.

"Media attention. Public exposure of your relationship. Attempts to portray your love as scandalous or immoral." Rebecca looked directly at Delores. "Are you prepared for that level of scrutiny? Are you ready to have your private life become public record?"

Delores thought about the choice she had made weeks earlier—to fight for her inheritance without hiding who she was, to choose authenticity over safety, to trust that love was worth the risks it entailed.

"Yes," she said, her voice stronger than she felt. "I'm ready. We're ready."

Later that night, as they lay in Serina's bed, Delores found herself studying the ceiling and thinking about the photographs, about the violation they represented and the courage it would take to face whatever came next.

"Do you ever regret it?" she asked quietly. "Getting involved with me, I mean. Taking on all this drama and legal chaos."

"Never," Serina replied without hesitation. "Not for a single second."

"Even knowing that our private moments might become public evidence? Even knowing that our love might be dissected by strangers who think they have the right to judge our worthiness?"

"Especially then. Because that's when love matters most—not when it's easy and private and safe, but when it's challenged and scrutinized and you have to fight for the right to claim it."

Delores turned to face her, struck by the determination in her voice. "You really mean that."

"I really mean it. I've spent my whole life fighting for the right to exist authentically, to love openly, to claim my place in the world without apology. This is just the latest battle in a war I was already fighting."

"What if we lose? What if the court decides that our relationship disqualifies me from the inheritance?"

"Then we'll still have each other. We'll still have our chosen family, our work that matters, our lives worth living." Serina reached over and touched Delores's face gently. "The inheritance would be nice, but it's not what defines your worth. You're valuable because of who you are, not because of what you might inherit."

"I love you," Delores whispered, the words carrying more weight than they ever had before. "I love your courage, your refusal to be intimidated, your willingness to stand with me even when it costs you."

"I love you too. And I'm not going anywhere, no matter how many photographs they take or how many threats they make."

As Delores drifted off to sleep, she thought about the cracks that were appearing in the façade of her carefully constructed life. The surveillance, the threats, the violation of privacy—all of it was designed to make her retreat, to make her choose safety over authenticity, to make her sacrifice love for the possibility of inheritance.

But the cracks weren't just in her façade—they were in Craig's strategy too. By resorting to harassment and intimidation, by treating love as evidence of moral failing, by violating her privacy to build his case, he was revealing the weakness of his position. He was showing the court exactly what kind of person he was, exactly what lengths he would go to deny his sister her basic rights.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new photographs, new attempts to use her happiness against her. But tonight, she would rest in the knowledge that she was not facing this alone, that she had found someone willing to stand with her regardless of the cost, that love was worth fighting for even when the battle became public and ugly.

The façade was cracking, but what was emerging underneath was stronger, more authentic, more real than anything she had built through hiding and performance. She was finally, fully herself—in love, under attack, but absolutely unashamed of either truth.

The real battle was just beginning. But she was ready for it, because she was finally fighting for the right things in the right way. She was fighting not just for money or recognition, but for the fundamental right to love openly, to exist authentically, to claim her place in the world without having to justify her right to be there.

And she was not fighting alone.