The Home-Wrecker Was Her Lover

I'd been gone seven years, building our future, tending to my dying grandmother, holding onto the promise of coming home to my wife, Chloe.

Then came the punch-a brutal, public assault from a man in a black baseball cap.

He screamed, "You home-wrecker!" while cameras materialized, flashing like a firing squad.

Reporters shoved microphones in my face, asking if it was true I was screwing Chloe Davis and getting paid for it.

Chloe Davis. My wife. The questions made no sense.