He Took My Life, Gave Her Love Full-of-Lies

When the man my wife had always loved pushed me off the second-floor balcony of this house, she was still on the phone with him—teasing him, calling him “baby.”

I thought I was going to die.

But death didn’t come.

Instead, I ended up half-paralyzed.

That wasn’t enough for him.

He hired a couple of thugs to finish the job—chop me up and bury the pieces out back, like yesterday’s trash.

Three years after my death, Eric—my wife’s precious Eric—ended up with kidney failure.

That’s when my wife finally remembered me.