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.