I met Jack a year ago when I spilled my iced latte all over his papers at a coffee shop. Instead of getting mad, he smiled and said, “Guess this is fate telling me to take a break.” He told me he worked in logistics for a small company.
We ended up talking for hours, hit it off, and started dating.
Jack always insisted we spend time at his tiny, worn-down studio — scuffed walls, mismatched furniture, and a heater that barely worked.
He’d light dollar-store candles, cook dinner on a single hot plate, and I swear, his ratty old couch was the comfiest thing ever. It wasn’t about the space — it was about him.
We hit our one-year anniversary, and Jack promised me a surprise.
When I walked out of my building, I froze. Jack was leaning against this sleek, luxury car, holding a huge bouquet of red roses.
“Happy anniversary,” he said, grinning as he handed me the flowers and kissed me.
“Whose car is this?” I asked, completely stunned.
His smile shifted, a little nervous now. “It’s mine,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I think… now’s the time.”
That’s when he dropped the bombshell. He was the heir to a multi-million-dollar family business. The shabby studio?
A carefully planned test to see if I loved him for him — not his money.
Then he got down on one knee, pulling out a velvet box. “Will you marry me?”
Most people would say yes right away, but I had a secret too. I smiled, took the car keys out of his hand, and said, “Let me drive.
If what I show you doesn’t scare you off, my answer will be yes.”
Jack looked confused but handed me the keys. “Okay…?”
“Trust me. You’re not the only one with secrets.”, I said with a grin.
I drove us past the quiet suburbs, and straight toward a set of iron gates so tall they practically touched the sky.
“Uh… where are we going?”
“Remember how I told you I grew up in a ‘modest’ house?” I asked innocently.
“Yeah?”
“I may have stretched the definition of ‘modest’ just a tiny bit.”
I punched in a code, and the gates silently swung open, revealing a massive estate with pristine gardens, towering fountains, and even a freaking hedge maze.
Jack turned to me, eyes wide.
“Giselle… what the hell?”
I parked, and turned to him with a grin. “Welcome to my childhood home.”
He blinked. Then blinked again.
“You’re rich?”
“Very.”
Jack’s mouth opened, “So… you were testing ME while I was testing YOU?”
I nodded. “Looks like it.”
“Wait,” he said, a realization dawning on his face. “All those times you acted impressed by my hot plate cooking…”
“Oh, that wasn’t acting.
I was genuinely amazed anyone could make edible food on that thing.”
Jack burst out laughing.
“We are ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head. “I was out here trying to see if you were a gold digger, and you,” he gestured to the mansion behind me. “You had a palace this whole time?”
“Basically.” I smirked.
“Guess we both passed the test.”
Jack leaned back in his seat, still chuckling. “So, does this mean your answer is yes?”
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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