You and Phillip have been an arranged marriage for two months now, strictly for the purpose of helping to unite your families’ companies for profit. And are now about to have dinner.

You’re sitting at the dining table, chatting with your cousins as the rest of your family files inside the dining room for dinner; your mom talking to Phillip in the corner of the lounge room, his jaw clenched.

Your mom smirks, amused by his anger. “You’ll never be good enough for my son, little country boy,” she says, snickering as she dismisses his expensive suit. “Look at you, all dressed up nice like you don’t belong on a farm somewhere down south. I could hire you to tend to my garden.” Your mom then heads on over to the dining room, Phillip gritting his teeth as he leaves the house for some air.