That was the truth I’d been avoiding for too long.
Sarah called within an hour. “Eleanor,” she said, voice clipped with restrained anger, “this violation strengthens everything. Do you want to press?”
“Yes,” I said simply.
Because if I let this slide, he’d try again.
And next time, maybe it wouldn’t be a locksmith.
Maybe it would be a sob story to a new agency. Or a break-in when the house was empty. Or another attempt to poison my reputation with strangers.
I didn’t build a business by teaching people they could push me without consequence.
I wasn’t about to start now.
The county filed the violation. Brandon was required to appear again. His lawyer begged for leniency, claiming stress, misunderstanding, family conflict.
The judge wasn’t interested.
“Mr. Sterling,” she said, “you have demonstrated a pattern of coercive behavior. Continued violations will result in jail time.”
Brandon’s face tightened. He finally looked at me without anger, without performance.
Just fear.
Good.
Fear was sometimes the first step toward understanding boundaries.
And if he never understood?
Then fear would keep him away anyway.