Game Over, My Mr. Hockey

For three years, my marriage to Bradly Gordon, the golden boy of the NHL, was nothing more than a freezing, sexless public image.

On the eve of our third anniversary, I walked into his dark study and caught him masturbating to a picture of his late brother's widow, Chandler.

The very next day, he moved her and her spoiled son into our home. Her son intentionally destroyed my late mother's belongings and the only photograph I had of my parents. When I confronted them, Bradly fiercely protected Chandler, violently shoving me into a sharp table.