MY MOTHER ASKED WHAT MY ILLNESS HAD TO DO WITH THEIR VACATION AT MY HOUSE, SO I STOPPED ARGUING AND TOLD HER, “THEN COME”—AND WHEN SHE STEPPED OUTSIDE HER CAR, SHE COULDN’T BELIEVE WHAT SHE SAW.

Two weeks had passed since the great family exodus, and the Arizona desert had settled back into its timeless, serene rhythm. The scorching afternoon heat beat down against the rammed-earth walls of my compound, while inside, the central cooling system hummed with quiet efficiency.

I was at my drafting desk, putting the finishing touches on the structural schematics for the Tucson research station, when the sharp crunch of tires on gravel drew my attention.

I looked up through the glass wall.

A dusty brown sedan had pulled up near the front gate. A man in a crumpled gray suit stepped out, holding a thick manila envelope, and marched purposefully toward the front entrance.

A few seconds later, the electronic chime at my door rang out.

When I opened it, the man didn’t even bother introducing himself. He thrust the manila envelope into my hands, muttered, “You’ve been served,” and turned back toward his car before I could say a word.

I walked back inside, sat on the sofa, and tore open the envelope.

Inside were court documents filed on behalf of Donald and Helen Holstead. They weren't suing for property ownership—even their high-priced attorney had realized the land trust and deed were ironclad. Instead, they were filing a malicious civil suit for “intentional infliction of emotional distress, public humiliation, and financial sabotage” stemming from the disastrous wedding weekend.

They were demanding two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in damages, claiming I had deliberately lured them into a trap and orchestrated a public smear campaign.

I stared at the pages, a cold, humorless smile touching my lips. They still didn't get it. Even after losing everything, they believed they could use the legal system as a weapon to force me back into submission.

I picked up my phone, snapped a clear photograph of the subpoena, and sent it directly to Marla with a single text: “Look what the desert dragged in.”