I Died So My Brother Can Have Justice

Every time my wife brought her assistant into the bedroom, she made me kneel by the bed and wait.

If the assistant didn’t know how to do it, she’d have me demonstrate—step by humiliating step.

I always waited patiently for them to finish, then went over to serve them tea and water.

Celeste would pinch the back of my neck and ask:

“Aren’t you jealous?”

I shook my head, even helping them prepare contraceptives when needed.

That only infuriated her more. She’d throw me onto the bed again and again out of spite.