Battle Divorce! - Chapter 23

Chapter 12.1

The bastard. It’s always about my mother whenever it suits him.

Daisy’s biological mother had been an agent, killed in an ambush by royalists. Or so she’d been told.

Afterward, Daisy had no one, and Count Therese stepped in to take her under his wing.

Through all the years they’d spent together, Count Therese had learned exactly how to target Daisy’s weaknesses.

“Think about the cause, Easy.”

The cause, the cause.

She didn’t even know what that “cause” meant anymore.

To destroy the royalists because they were the ones who killed her mother? To seek revenge?

All for someone she’d never even met before?

A bitter knot twisted in her stomach. And yet, the fact that she couldn’t bring herself to walk out the door meant she was still tethered to this so-called “cause.”

“…My portrait,” she began slowly, finally speaking after a long moment of silence.

“Did you have it prepared just for him, Boss?”

Daisy’s portrait. The one Maxim von Waldeck supposedly wore around his neck.

It was a small question, but it had been nagging at her since the moment she’d learned of it. She had to ask.

“What portrait?”

“Forget it. Goodbye.”

His reaction gave her nothing. Whether he truly didn’t know or was feigning ignorance, she couldn’t tell. Daisy realized pressing further would be pointless. Without another word, she walked out of the parlor.

༺♰༻

The organization is utterly useless.

That was the only thing Daisy could take away from her meeting with Therese.

Her only real choice now was to survive, or escape, on her own.

But if she left now, what about the money?

Well, she had all her limbs. She could find a job, earn her keep.

But was it really that simple? Could she leave even if she wanted to?

Would that rat Therese just let her walk away?

And what about the convent? The kids?

She felt completely trapped. Could she really live out her days in Waldeck?

I don’t know. I just don’t know.

She felt stranded, like she’d been dropped in the middle of a desert and left to fend for herself.

‘Is there a way I can be “forcibly” kicked out of Waldeck without causing too much of a fuss?’

The more she thought about it, the more her head started to hurt.

On the drive back to the Waldeck territory, Daisy was finally able to reach a surprisingly simple conclusion.

‘There’s no need to overcomplicate things. If I want this marriage to end…’

As the car neared the mansion, her plan became crystal clear.

‘I just need him to divorce me.’

According to Count Therese, Maxim von Waldeck had a “type,” believe it or not, and Daisy fit the mold perfectly. That’s why she’d been chosen to be his fake wife.

So, if Maxim von Waldeck no longer desired her, their marriage would end.

Why had she wasted so much unnecessary time worrying over something so simple?

‘So if we get a divorce, what can they really do about it?’

If the target rejected her, there would be little the organization could do.

‘The only question is… how do I make it happen?’

In order to guarantee a victory, one must know their enemy and themselves.

From what Daisy had gathered so far, Maxim von Waldeck was arrogant, sly, and undeniably h*rny.

‘Classic man wh*re material.’

But calling him a “man wh*re” felt a bit too harsh for her first husband. Out of the kindness of her heart, she’d downgrade him to a “womanizer.”

The way he’d unhooked her bra with a single motion had spoken volumes. That level of skill didn’t come from inexperience.

When they arrived at the mansion, Maxim’s aide rounded the car and opened the door.

As they walked across the Waldeck gardens, Daisy peeked a glance at Maxim von Waldeck.

‘He’s handsome, even in the dark.’

Frankly, it was no wonder women flocked to him.

Daisy was certain that if she’d been born with a face like that, she wouldn’t just be a man wh*re. She’d start a full-blown harem and live a life of pure debauchery.

And if there’s one thing man wh*res like him hate most… it’s never-ending abstinence.

Sure, he seemed invested in his new wife now, but she wasn’t what Maxim von Waldeck was truly obsessed with. It was s*x, pure and simple.

The idea of him being a “s*x maniac” sounded much more believable than him simply being “ in love,” considering they’d only met a handful of times.

‘If I simply keep holding out, it won’t take long before he loses interest.’

Playing the timid, fragile type would be her best move. Pretending to fear s*xual intimacy felt like the safest route, and honestly, with what he was packing underneath those pants, acting scared wasn’t much of a stretch.