The officer looked up.

“Hannah, you can report all of this.

We can also explain protective measures and help you contact specialized support services.”

I nodded as tears filled my eyes.

I wasn’t crying because I wanted Spencer back; I was crying because someone had finally described my life without pretending it was normal.

A soft knock interrupted us, and Gregory entered carrying a small paper bag along with a folded envelope.

“The waiter found these near your chair,” he said.