After hiding my identity for three years, my wife and lover beat me into a mistress.

After three years on a top-secret mission overseas, I was finally back.

Before I left, my superiors strongly urged me to take a dedicated security detail, a whole unit just for my safety.

But the first call I got when my boots hit American soil wasn’t from my wife. It was from Brad, my old college class president.

“You loser,” he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. “Heard you’re down and out. Perfect timing, actually.

I’m getting married, and I’m feeling charitable. Come see how the other half lives.”

Then he dropped a wedding invitation into our old group chat.