My Death Vlog Drove My Ex Crazy
On our third wedding anniversary, I tricked my husband, Benedict Gabor, into signing the divorce papers.
The reason was that the doctor said I had stomach cancer and wouldn’t live past three months.
Benedict thought I was throwing a tantrum. Annoyed but dismissive, he signed the papers and then whisked his precious Tylor Gabor away on a scenic overseas getaway.
Later, when he realized I was serious, he used every method possible, threats, schemes, even outright vengeance, to try and bring me back.
But all he got was a final goodbye at my funeral, delivered through a video I left behind.
“Benedict,” my recorded voice began, calm and steady, “if you’re watching this, I’m already dead…”
That day, the proud and unshakable Benedict finally lost his mind.
Chapter 1
I first sensed it was over when I landed in the hospital from overworking myself into a bleeding stomach. At that very moment, Benedict was at home, hosting a private fireworks show for Tylor in the backyard.
When reporters shoved their microphones in my face, I forced a smile through my pale, exhausted expression.
“Don’t speculate,” I said. “Benedict and I are doing fine. The girl you saw with him is just his cousin.”
The journalists looked unconvinced, their disdain and disbelief practically dripping off their faces.
The truth was, I wasn’t entirely lying. Tylor wasn’t his real cousin, though, just an orphan taken in by Benedict’s family.
Our marriage had always been a calculated business arrangement. Benedict had played his role well until Tylor came back three months ago.
Since then, he’d stuck to her side like glue, completely forgetting he even had a wife.
The “perfect husband” image that the media had painted for him was nothing but a façade.
That night, while the entire household staff was preparing fireworks for Tylor, I called Benedict over and over again. He didn’t answer.
Left with no choice, I discharged myself from the hospital and took a cab home.
The house was alive with celebration, the vibrant colors of fireworks painting the night sky. I stepped into the yard, cold and silent, entirely out of place amidst the revelry.
Under the fireworks that illuminated the backyard, I saw Benedict tidying Tylor’s hair and feeding her a piece of cake.
Suddenly, I felt like an outsider.
The autumn leaves covered the ground. As I stepped on them, they crackled softly.
Tylor noticed me first. She jumped out of Benedict’s arms like a frightened rabbit, her delicate expression painted with innocence.
“Kendra!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling.
“Please don’t misunderstand! We were just celebrating the company’s revival!”
Huh.
Revival? A celebration?
Was she serious?
The company did revive, yet she had no part in its recovery, none at all.
As my disdainful gaze swept over them, Benedict charged toward me, shielding Tylor like she was a priceless treasure.
<
“Kendra, can you stop wearing that poker face all day?” he snapped, his voice sharp and full of irritation.
“Enough with the innocent routine in front of the cameras. Haven’t you had enough?
“What do you want? My sympathy? My pity? Dream on!”
Behind him, Tylor clung to his arm, her eyes glistening with crocodile tears.
“Benedict, please calm down,” she whispered, trembling. “You’re scaring me.”
The scene was absurd, a soap opera unfolding in my own home. But I was too exhausted to focus on this drama.
To their surprise, I forced a smile, closing the distance between us. “Benny,” I said softly, my tone full of practiced sweetness, “don’t be mad. I didn’t misunderstand. I just wanted to remind you… today’s my birthday. I know you’ve been busy and must’ve forgotten, but it’s okay. I don’t blame you.”
For a split second, he froze. A hint of guilt flickered across his face before being quickly buried beneath his usual indifference.
“Birthday?” he repeated, scoffing.
“Didn’t you always say you hated celebrating your birthday?”
Yes. I used to say that. My mother had died giving birth to me. My birthday was also her death anniversary.
My father, who worshipped her, would spend every year mourning her with grand ceremonies. For years, I avoided celebrating my birthday.
But Benedict had once changed that. Over the first two years of our marriage, he’d celebrated with me, helping me shake off the shadow of grief.
I could still remember his gentle words, whispered in my ear with a warm smile.
“Kendra, from now on, you’ll never feel alone on your birthday. You’re not a curse. You’re my good luck charm.”
Looking at him now, standing in front of me to shield Tylor, I realized those words had long since lost their meaning.
But it didn’t hurt anymore. He didn’t know I’d already tricked him into signing the divorce papers a week ago.
