I dressed in rags and hid my face beneath a worn-out hat, posing as a beggar outside my own restaurant. I wanted to test my granddaughter Abby’s fiancé, Paul to see if he was kind-hearted or just after our money. But what I discovered wasn’t about him. It was about her. I had built my life from nothing—escaping a bad marriage, raising my son while homeless, and eventually owning a restaurant chain. I’d promised Abby one of them as a wedding gift.

But when I overheard her treating Paul coldly over money, and later saw her snatch a bill from him as he tried to help me in disguise, I knew something was wrong. Paul, to his credit, came back and quietly gave me money, apologizing for Abby’s behavior. But Abby revealed her true self, saying she was only marrying Paul to impress me and secure a restaurant. Heartbroken, I went straight to my son, who admitted he’d spoiled her, but I knew I had to take a stand.

On her wedding day, when everyone expected my big toast to be a gift, I revealed the truth I had been the homeless woman outside the restaurant, and I had seen who Abby really was. Instead of handing over a restaurant, I offered her a waitress job if she wanted to earn it the hard way, like I had.

Abby erupted in rage, revealing to everyone that the marriage had been a manipulation. Paul was devastated. I walked away from the reception, heartbroken but resolute. If Abby ever wanted my respect or anything else she’d have to earn it like I once did. Maybe then, she’d finally become the woman I thought she was.