A wealthy tycoon made his son tie the knot with a down-to-earth farmer as a tough lesson. But he was blown away by what his son pulled off…

After dropping his suitcase on the bed, he rejoined Emma in the kitchen, where she was standing by the sink, looking out the window. She didn’t acknowledge him when he entered, but the silence between them was heavy. So, what’s the plan? Richard asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.

I assume we’re supposed to… what? Pretend to be married? Play house on your little farm? Emma turned to face him, her expression unchanging. We don’t have to pretend anything, Richard. This is real, whether we like it or not.

Her words stung more than he wanted to admit. There was something about the way she said it, so matter-of-fact, like she’d already come to terms with the arrangement while he was still struggling to believe it was happening. I run this farm, Emma continued, her voice firm.

It’s my livelihood. My father left it to me. And I’m not about to let it fall apart because you don’t want to be here.

So, you’re going to pull your weight. Pull my weight? Richard raised an eyebrow. I don’t know the first thing about farming.

Emma’s eyes narrowed slightly. Then you’ll learn. Before he could respond, she turned back to the window, signaling the end of the conversation.

Richard stood there, feeling a mixture of frustration and disbelief. He was stuck. Stuck in a life he didn’t want, with a woman who clearly had no interest in making things easy for him.

But there was no going back now. The first morning on the farm came far too early for Richard. He was used to sleeping in, waking up whenever the mood struck, often nursing a hangover from the night before.

But here, the rooster crowed at dawn, a harsh reminder that his days of leisure were over. The sun wasn’t even fully up when Emma knocked on his door. Get up, she called, her voice cutting through his grogginess like a knife.

We’ve got work to do. Richard groaned, rolling over in the small bed that creaked under his weight. Every fiber of his being wanted to ignore her, to pull the blankets over his head and pretend he was back in his New York penthouse.

But the reality of his situation hit him hard. He couldn’t afford to push back. Not here.

Grudgingly, he dragged himself out of bed, pulling on the same clothes he’d worn the day before. They already felt out of place here, too clean, too polished for the rough life he was about to step into. When he finally made his way outside, Emma was already at work, her sleeves rolled up as she moved through the barn, carrying feed to the animals.

Grab that shovel, she said without looking up, her tone brisk. You’ll be mucking out the stalls today. Richard stared at her, incredulous.

Mucking out the what? She finally looked up, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. The stalls, Richard, you know, where the animals live? They need to be cleaned out every day. He glanced at the animals she was talking about.

Horses, cows, a few pigs. They were looking back at him as if they hunt too, knew he didn’t belong there. Richard grimaced, his stomach turning at the thought of what mucking out meant.

You’ve got to be kidding me, he muttered. But Emma wasn’t kidding. She didn’t even dignify his complaint with a response, instead handing him the shovel and walking off to tend to something else.

Richard stood there for a moment, holding the shovel awkwardly. He had no idea what he was doing, and it showed. With a resigned sigh, he approached the first stall, immediately recoiling at the smell.

The reality of farm life hit him like a freight train, it was dirty, smelly, and uncomfortable in every possible way. There was nothing glamorous about it, but as much as he hated it, he knew there was no point in complaining. He was stuck here, and if he didn’t at least pretend to try, Emma would make his life even more miserable.

He jabbed the shovel into the straw, gagging slightly at the sight of manure. This wasn’t the kind of work someone like him was supposed to be doing. He was supposed to be attending business lunches, playing golf with potential investors, enjoying the perks of wealth.

Not this, never this. As the hours dragged on, Richard found himself sweating and aching in ways he never had before. His back screamed in protest every time he bent over, and his arms felt like they were made of lead…