My ex-wife is a Mysterious Boss

Late night, within the confines of an opulent villa, Charles Lancelot's kiss was urgent and passionate, pinning Daphne Murphy onto the sofa. Her bath towel slipped off, revealing her naked body, making Charles's voice even more hoarse, "Daphne, is it okay?"

Daphne bit her lip, not wanting to answer such a dumb question, and buried Charles's head in her chest as a response.

Charles's lips moved downward, all the way to between her legs. His hot glans pressed against her moist pussy, and just then, the phone rang abruptly.

Seeing the number, Charles suddenly stopped. Frustrated, Daphne twisted her waist. Anyone would be upset if interrupted at such a moment. She touched Charles's intimidatingly large penis and casually asked, "When did you change your ringtone?"

The next moment, Charles left her body and glanced at her. "Don't make a sound." Then he answered the phone and walked out. "It's me, what's up?"

Daphne was stunned, the air suddenly feeling cold. What kind of call was Charles taking? His tone was so gentle, it didn't sound like business.

After that night, Charles seemed different. He had always been meticulous—picking out cilantro from her food, caring for her when she was sick, and being the perfect husband. But after that call, he began to distance himself. He avoided coming home, slept in the guest room, and became cold and distant, frowning if she touched him, as if his purity had been tainted.

They had shared such intimate moments; what game was he playing now? Daphne finally couldn't stand his coldness and confronted him face to face. Charles didn't even frown, just said, "I'm sorry, you're ultimately not her."

Daphne then realized that the reason Charles married her was because she bore a slight resemblance to his first love. "You want a divorce?" she asked.

The couple sat opposite each other, and after Daphne said this, she silently looked at her husband. Charles pushed the divorce agreement drafted by the lawyer towards her, his voice cold, "Take a look. If there's no problem, sign it and we'll proceed with the formalities."

He was still as direct as he had been when they got married. Daphne smiled, her voice sounding as if nothing was wrong, "Why so suddenly?"

Charles nodded and, perhaps thinking his expression wasn't clear enough, added, "Kayla is back."

Daphne's smile disappeared, her gaze falling on the divorce agreement. Kayla Baker was Charles's first love. She took a deep breath, feeling a mix of hurt and resolve, then threw the divorce agreement onto the table.

Charles knew things wouldn't go smoothly, he sighed deeply, "Let's part on good terms."

Before he could finish, Daphne decisively said, "Fine."

Charles paused, surprised by her quick agreement. He saw his wife across from him smile.

"But we need to discuss the divorce compensation," Daphne added.

Her easy agreement stung, as if she never cared about him. This realization hit Charles hard, but he quickly brushed it off and said, "Okay."

Daphne's voice was unhurried, "According to the law, during the marriage, all income of both spouses is considered joint property. We've been married for two years, I want half of your income, of course, I'll also give you half of mine."

Charles laughed in anger, his long fingers tapping the table. His tone grew colder, "Do you know how much wealth that is? Even if I give it to you, can you keep it?"

He looked at Daphne like she was some greedy, petty person.

Daphne fiddled with the pen, her gaze sharp on Charles.

Under her stare, Charles turned his head awkwardly, feeling guilty for his actions over the past six months. He softened his tone. "We can discuss it slowly, there's no need to propose a condition I can't accept."

"Do you think I'm asking for too much?" Daphne asked.

Charles didn't speak, but his eyes said it all.

Daphne poured herself a cup of tea, and after a moment, poured one for him too.

Charles thought this was a sign she was softening. He took the cup and brought it to his lips.

Then he heard Daphne's voice, "If you think you can't make the decision, I can go to the Lancelot Mansion and discuss it with them."

"Them" naturally referred to Charles's parents and other senior members.

Charles choked on several sips, slamming the cup on the table, looking like an angry lion, his face full of an impending storm. "Are you threatening me?"

Daphne wasn't afraid. "I wouldn't dare," she said, though her demeanor clearly showed she dared.

She wiped the tea that splashed on her. "I only want what I deserve. If you can't afford it, four-tenths will do."

Charles felt like he was meeting Daphne for the first time. Her previous obedient demeanor now seemed like a well-crafted facade, crumbling to reveal her true, resolute self.

After a long, tense silence, he finally said, "Fine."

Daphne's previously tense body relaxed with this word. Without another word, she signed the divorce agreement.

Charles coldly warned Daphne, "I agreed to your terms, but you'd better not make any other moves."

Daphne, seated calmly, looked him in the eye. "Are you trying to scare me?"

Charles had never seen this side of her. Throughout their marriage, she had always been compliant, never challenging him as she did now. He hesitated, then replied icily, "You can have what you want. We'll finalize the divorce in three days."

Charles's patience was running out, but Daphne was unrestrained. "I have one last request," she said.

Before Charles could object, she continued, "Tomorrow you accompany me with my shopping. Considering it a parting gift."

"After a happy shopping, we'll go to The Lancelot Mansion and explain the divorce to the families. When they ask why, I'll say I don't like you anymore."

She was willing to take the blame for the divorce upon herself.

Charles was silent for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded, his voice low and measured. "Okay, see you tomorrow."

Since everything was discussed, he stood up, straightening his jacket. He had thought the divorce would drag on, but now he realized Daphne was eager to finalize it and split the assets. Without another word, he walked out.

If Daphne knew Charles thought this, she would only sneer; she didn't care about his little bit at all.

As he reached the door, Daphne's voice cut through the silence. "Who are you going to see, your first love?"

Charles raised an eyebrow. "None of your business."

Daphne crossed her arms, her tone blunt. "I don't like being betrayed. No matter how much you like Kayla, until the divorce is finalized, I won't allow you to sleep with her."

Charles's face darkened. He turned back and stepped closer to Daphne, his presence imposing.

Unfazed by his demeanor, Daphne spoke provocatively, "Are you in such a hurry? You've waited two years, can't you wait these two days?"

Charles didn't get angry; he simply stated his understanding of Daphne's resentment, leaving her speechless. "Good night," he said, and then he left for his room.

After the door closed, Daphne stood there, unmoving for a long time, while the divorce agreement lay quietly on the table.