My mother, Margaret Cole, sold homemade pies and did laundry for neighbors just to keep us afloat. She worked herself to the bone so I could finish college and become a civil engineer. Every late night, every sacrifice she made—it all built the foundation of my life.

Over the next two years, Hannah became a quiet, beautiful fixture in our lives.

She didn't care about my money, my sports cars, or my billionaire status. The first time I tried to take her to an ultra-expensive Michelin-star restaurant in Los Angeles, she smiled, shook her head, and pulled me toward a small, family-owned taco stand near the beach instead.

"This is real food, Ethan," she had laughed, handing me a taco on a paper plate. "Save your millions for the foundation."

My mother adored Hannah. They spent hours together in the kitchen, exchanging old family recipes, baking pies, and filling the Santa Barbara house with the rich, comforting aromas of vanilla, cinnamon, and warm sugar.

Unlike Victoria, who had viewed my mother as a shameful burden, Hannah treated my mother like a queen. She listened intently to my mother's old stories, combed her hair, and brought her fresh flowers from the garden every single morning.

One evening, as the sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean, painting the sky in deep shades of gold and purple, I stood on the back patio watching Hannah and my mother plant a new rose bush together.

My mother looked up, caught my eye, and gave me a soft nod of approval.

I reached into my pocket, feeling the small velvet box I had been carrying for weeks.

Later that night, after my mother had retired to her room, I walked with Hannah down to the edge of the estate cliff, where the sound of the ocean waves echoed softly against the rocks.

"Hannah," I said, taking her soft, warm hands in mine.

She looked up at me, her brown eyes shining under the moonlight. "Yes, Ethan?"

"When I was young, I thought success meant building the biggest skyscrapers, earning the most money, and surrounding myself with powerful people," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I learned the hard way that none of that matters if you don't have truth, honor, and love at your foundation."

I dropped down onto one knee.

Hannah gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.

"You brought light back into my life," I continued, opening the ring box to reveal a simple, elegant diamond ring—not flashy, but pure and timeless. "You love my mother as much as I do, and you love me for who I am on the inside, not what I have in the bank. Hannah Miller, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"