“The truth is,” Malick continued, “I’ve been living in disguise. The beard, the clothes, even the limp—it was all an act. I needed to know if someone could love me for who I am, not for what I have. For the past ten years, I’ve been a millionaire.”

Gasps spread through the hall. Angela’s jaw dropped. She hadn’t known.

“I met Angela, and she didn’t care about money, about appearances. She saw me,” Malick said, voice cracking with emotion. “That’s why I love her.”

Then, with a snap of his fingers, the hall transformed with gold drapes, crystal chandeliers, flowers everywhere. Attendants swept Angela into another room, dressing her in a glittering gown fit for royalty. When she returned, stunned, Malick stood in an immaculate suit, taking her hand.