Dante’s voice thundered through the small apartment before Elara had even managed to close the front door. It was nearly ten o’clock at night, and her muscles felt like lead while her eyes burned from staring at spreadsheets all day.
She had been the last person to leave the office at Skyline Media, the high-stakes advertising agency in downtown Phoenix. She was exhausted, but she had to perfect the presentation that could finally secure her the promotion she had worked toward for years.
Before she could even kick off her heels, her mother-in-law, Martha, marched out of the kitchen with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She wore a look of practiced indignation that suggested she had been rehearsing her grievances for hours.
“This is quite the time for a married woman to be sneaking into her own home,” Martha snapped. “Your husband has been waiting for his dinner for three hours while you were out playing professional.”
Elara took a long, shaky breath as she surveyed the living room. The remains of their lunch were still crusting on the plates, a soda had been spilled and left to dry, and crumbs were ground into the carpet.