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The police arrive twelve minutes later.

Wren makes the call herself.

I stand beside her as she shows the officers the threatening messages, the photograph taken outside her shop, and the bruises Grant left on her wrist.

She tells them everything.

The stalking.

The threats.

The years of intimidation.

Her voice shakes at first.

Then grows stronger.

Grant tries to interrupt.

“Officer, this is ridiculous. She’s my girlfriend. We had an argument.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Wren corrects.

He glares at her.

I take one step forward.

Grant immediately looks away.

A satisfying development.

The officers examine the shattered window, photograph her injuries, and question the witnesses who gathered after the commotion.

One elderly woman from the bakery points directly at Grant.

“I saw him shove her. That poor girl went straight into the glass.”

Another witness confirms it.

Grant’s expression changes.

For the first time tonight, he seems to understand that his expensive suit and polished words will not save him.

An officer turns him around and fastens restraints around his wrists.

Grant looks at Wren.

“Baby, come on. You know I didn’t mean…”

“No.”

Her voice is firm.

Clear.

She steps forward.

“I’m done, Grant. You don’t get to frighten me anymore.”