The Vlogger's Last Laugh, A Terminal Love Triangle

On the day we celebrated three years of marriage, I cunningly persuaded my spouse, Benedict Gabor, to put his signature on divorce documents.

My motivation stemmed from a medical diagnosis: stomach cancer with a life expectancy of only three months.

Benedict assumed I was just acting out. Irritated but unconcerned, he signed the papers before whisking his beloved Tylor Gabor away for a luxurious trip abroad.

When the reality of the situation finally dawned on him, Benedict employed various tactics - intimidation, manipulation, and even retaliation - in an attempt to win me back.

However, his efforts were in vain. The only farewell he received was at my memorial service, through a pre-recorded video message I had prepared.

"Benedict," my voice began on the recording, composed and unwavering, "if you're viewing this, it means I've passed away..."

It was on that day that the once-formidable and steadfast Benedict finally crumbled, losing his grip on reality.