Divorcing My 'Useless' CEO Husband

Beatrice Windsor braved the rain to deliver car keys to Richard Davis. Before she could enter the private room, she heard voices from inside.

"Ricky, Scarlett's back in the country. When are you planning to divorce her?"

Beatrice froze mid-step. Through the half-open door, she saw the man sitting on the sofa.

Richard was leaning back on the sofa, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, revealing his collarbone. His slender fingers held a cigarette, and through the curling smoke, his sharp, handsome face showed a hint of casual weariness.

"Exactly."

Richard's childhood friend Charles Moore teased, "You and Scarlett were the perfect couple in our circle. If Beatrice hadn't stolen you away back then, you and Scarlett would have kids by now!"

"Right?" someone laughed mockingly. "How could someone as scheming as Beatrice deserve to be your wife? Scarlett's a famous violinist now. And Beatrice? Just a housewife. How can she even compare to Scarlett?"

Richard slowly exhaled smoke, his eyes taking on a suggestive gleam.

"There's no comparison."

Those few casual words stabbed into Beatrice's heart like knives.

Her face went pale, her whole body swaying.

So that's what he thought, too.

She should have known.

A sudden sharp pain in her palm made her realize she'd been gripping the car keys too tightly—they'd cut into her skin.

Half an hour ago, she'd gotten a call from Richard saying he'd left his car keys at home.

She didn't even grab an umbrella, just snatched up the keys and ran out.

Couldn't get a cab, so she ran. Three kilometers. It took her a full twenty minutes.

And for what? How stupid.

Beatrice left the keys at the door of the private room, her eyes red, and turned to leave.

...

By the time she got back to the villa, it was already 10 PM.

Beatrice turned on the lights and looked at their wedding photo on the wall. What once felt sweet now only felt painful to look at.

Richard was her childhood friend. She'd liked him since they were kids. She'd planned to confess after high school graduation, but he got together with Scarlett Lewis first.

They dated for two years and were about to get married when the Davis family ran into trouble.

Richard's father's investment failed, and he went bankrupt. That very night, Scarlett disappeared.

It just so happened that around that time, Beatrice saved Richard's grandfather. Knowing she liked Richard, he took it upon himself to force Richard to marry her.

Beatrice knew he didn't want to, but this was someone she'd liked since childhood.

So she shamefully went along with the arrangement.

Richard thought she'd taken advantage of his vulnerability, thought she was using the favor she'd done to get what she wanted. In three years of marriage, he'd never once touched her.

But Beatrice didn't mind. She thought, living under the same roof, over time, feelings would develop, right?

So she gave up her job and willingly became a housewife.

When he was busy, she waited quietly. When he was cold, she endured it meekly.

She wasn't Scarlett, but she could be ten thousand times better than Scarlett. Scarlett would leave, but she wouldn't.

But today, hearing Richard say those four words himself, Beatrice suddenly felt it was all pointless.

In his eyes, she was just what those people said.

A home-wrecker, deeply scheming, a manipulative woman who used tricks to climb up.

Her three years of walking on eggshells, three years of swallowing her pride—in his mind, it was probably just a scheming woman's efforts to hold onto her position.

He would never see her good side. He would only see how she "stole" Scarlett's place.

Scarlett was back.

So it was time for her to exit.

Beatrice's eyes grew moist. She took a shower and changed into clean clothes.

Then she opened her computer and started writing a divorce agreement. When she got to the reason for the divorce, perhaps out of spite, she gritted her teeth and wrote down a few words.

After finishing, she took it to the living room to wait for Richard to come home.

After some time, she heard a car engine outside.

Soon, the door opened.

Richard walked in, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, his noble and stern presence overwhelmingly imposing.

He took off his suit jacket and undid his cuffs, revealing a section of lean, strong forearm.

The Davis family was the wealthiest in Imperial City. Richard was their only son. From childhood, he'd been trained in chess, horseback riding, economics, and business. He got his doctorate at twenty, took over the family business at twenty-one, and in just five years, secured Davis Group's position at the top of Celestria's business wealth rankings.

His life had reached heights that ordinary people could never achieve in a lifetime.

Looking at him, Beatrice suddenly felt that even with this person standing right in front of her, there was still an untouchable distance between them.

Richard walked in, his voice low and magnetic. "Why did you leave the car keys at the door and leave?"

Beatrice stared at him. "Would you have welcomed me in?"

Richard paused mid-drink, his narrow eyes sweeping over her.

Perhaps finding her question pointless, he chose not to answer.

Beatrice didn't push it either, staring at the white paper on the table.

"Scarlett's back, isn't she?"

Richard's indifferent expression finally showed a flicker of emotion. He looked at her, his eyes unreadable.

"What's it to you?"

Beatrice smiled slightly.

Three years, and he always spoke to her in that tone.

Neither warm nor cold, neither close nor distant, as if she were just a stranger living under the same roof.

No, worse than a stranger—he'd at least be polite to strangers.

With her, he couldn't even be bothered to waste energy on politeness.

But whatever. It didn't matter anymore.

"Of course it matters," Beatrice said. "I am your wife, after all."

She picked up the agreement from the table, meeting his gaze.

"My husband wants to rekindle things with his ex-girlfriend. As his wife, I should know when to step aside."

Richard's eyes narrowed slightly.

Beatrice looked at him, the corners of her lips curving up.

"Richard, let's get divorced."

The air fell briefly silent.

Richard seemed not to have expected her to say this. A faint ripple appeared in his eyes.

"What did you say?"

"I said, let's get divorced." Beatrice repeated numbly. "Well? Aren't you happy?"

"Beatrice Windsor."

Richard called her full name, his gaze locked firmly on her. "You went to such lengths to be with me back then, and now you want to divorce me?"

At the mention of the past, Beatrice's long lashes trembled.

"Think whatever you want. Consider the past few years as me bothering you. Now let's part on good terms."

"Good terms?"

Richard's defined fingers tugged at his tie, then he leaned down, his strong arms braced on either side of Beatrice, trapping her in a small space.

"You're just jealous that Scarlett's back."

He smiled coldly. "You think divorcing me will get my attention and secure your position?"

Beatrice unconsciously tightened her grip on the divorce agreement.

"Beatrice, let me tell you—it won't work."

Richard's mocking voice pierced her eardrums like a knife.

Beatrice's throat worked hard. Finally, unable to bear it anymore, she slapped the divorce agreement against his chest.

"Richard, aren't you being too full of yourself?"

She suppressed the bitterness in her heart. "I've already signed the divorce agreement. If there's no problem, please sign it, Mr. Davis!"

The divorce agreement slid down Richard's chest.

Richard laughed coldly and picked it up. His eyes moved down, and when he saw the reason for divorce, his expression immediately darkened.

[Reason for divorce: Husband is impotent.]