Chapter 4

The contract was finalized, and the first wave of payments cleared. I had never seen so much money in my bank account before.

I immediately distributed holiday bonuses to my workers. Making gingerbread for Christmas meant they had to work overtime while everyone else was on vacation.

I put the old house on the market with an agent and bought a brand-new, modern condo for myself.

I had no time to wallow in the divorce. With Christmas just around the corner, I was busy 24/7.

My handmade gingerbread was selling like crazy. The only reason it hadn't before was a lack of marketing channels.

Now, we had to expand the factory. My distributors called constantly to restock, and multiple major corporations reached out for partnerships.

Watching the numbers in my bank account grow daily gave me endless energy.

One day, I personally went with my delivery team to drop off a massive order. The address looked incredibly familiar, but I couldn't place it.

It wasn't until I stood at the office building's entrance that I realized—it was Mila's company.

To ensure our VIP clients received their holiday gift boxes in perfect condition, I always personally supervised large deliveries.

The CEO of her company had ordered these gingerbread gift boxes for all the employees.

Everyone was lining up in an orderly fashion to get theirs. It was very professional and quiet.

Until someone recognized me and broke the silence.

"Wait! Aren't you Mila’s husband? I remember you used to bring her lunch all the time."

Mila walked over, following the voice.

The moment she saw me, her face fell as if she had just seen a plague.

"Why is there always gingerbread wherever you go? Do you have to stalk me?"

Her colleagues quickly chimed in, smiling.

"Mila, did your husband deliver these just to see you? That's so sweet! You have such a loving husband."

"By the way, this handmade gingerbread brand is so famous right now. Can you ask your husband to get us a few more boxes?"

I watched as Mila clenched her jaw, snatched the box from her hand, and threw it at her colleague.

"We are divorced! He's just a low-level delivery guy! Stop talking about him!"

To make her point clearer, she pointed at me with utter disgust.

"Look at him. Does he look like he's even in my league?"