Latisha Judd stared at the wall clock as the hands clicked over to midnight. On the table, the dinner she'd prepared had gone cold again.

She carried the dishes to the kitchen and reheated them, just as she always did.

At ten minutes to one, the front door finally opened. Clifford Lambert was home.

His suit jacket was slung over his arm, and his handsome face was flushed with drink. He walked straight toward her.

Latisha stood, pouring him a bowl of nourishing soup she'd prepared to help with the inevitable hangover, but the moment she offered it to him, he swatted it away. The bowl shattered on the floor.