Chapter 1

1 Mia Lauren Hudson

“I'm afraid of everything. I'm afraid of what I’ve seen, of what I’ve done, of who I am. But most of all, I’m afraid of walking out of this room and never again in my whole life feeling the way I feel when I’m with you.”

- Dirty Dancing

I was sitting in front of my bedroom window, admiring the white snow accumulating across the road and around our house. The cold made me shiver, and I hid my face with a thin sheet, the only thing covering me at that moment. The sound of a snore made me turn my head and admire the man sprawled across the mattress. I smiled to myself and gave a long sigh as I returned my gaze to the snow, now falling gently.

I had been married to Bradley Hudson for two years. I loved him. Even though I knew he didn’t love me as much in return. But I understood he had a demanding job, I understood his stress, I understood why he didn’t show affection toward me, and how our time together always ended in fights. I frowned as my thoughts shifted. It almost always ended that way. We’d make love, he’d fall asleep, and when he woke up, he’d ignore me and lock himself in his office. It happened so often it became routine. A sad routine for someone like me.

When I met Bradley, I had no idea he would be so difficult. I had no idea he was so different from what I imagined. We dated for only three months and then got married. And although I love him, I think I would reconsider it now.

I was a 24-year-old woman, a married woman, and at the same time, utterly lonely. I still saw myself as a girl. A girl without the love she had dreamed would sweep her off her feet. But I had to be content with that. I had to be happy with the little Bradley gave me. And when I say little, it’s not about money, for he had plenty of that. But if he were just a little easier to deal with and gave me as much love as he wanted to shower me with jewelry, everything would be so different...

Oh, my dear Bradley Hudson… My thoughts echoed his name sweetly as I pulled the duvet over his body.

I knew many judged me for loving him, for accepting him so passively, for not getting the attention every wife deserved, but even so, with all his flaws, he was the one I chose. He was the only one I allowed to get close. And I couldn’t regret that. I shouldn’t regret that. Sooner or later, he would change, he would ask how I was or how my day had been, or just hug me and tell me I looked beautiful. Someday, he’d say things like that. Or maybe even more… say he loved me and make me sure it wasn’t just empty words.

The sound of the phone ringing in the living room startled me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I opened my closet and grabbed some random clothes, just something warm. I opened the bedroom doors and quickly crossed the living room. As I approached the phone, Mrs. Duart was already ready to answer it.

"Let me get that, Duart," I smiled, approaching the table where the phone rang incessantly.

"Of course, Mrs. Hudson." She nodded politely and left the room, returning to the kitchen.

I watched for a few moments as our maid disappeared through the kitchen door. It was always like this: the peaceful ambiance of the house, the well-established routines, and me, playing the role Bradley had shaped for me. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for another call. He insisted that I should answer the phone perfectly, professionally, like a proper "Mrs. Hudson."

I picked up the phone and announced:

"Hudson residence." I said the way Bradley taught me, the way he forced me to learn, with a firm, controlled voice, as if I were just another piece in the puzzle of his perfectly structured life.

"I’d like to speak with Mia Lauren Hudson, is she available?" The male voice on the other end of the line sounded serious, almost formal, but with a professional touch that immediately caught my attention.

"Yes, this is she." I frowned, surprised and a little suspicious. "Who is this?"

"Hello, Mia," the man's voice now took on a lively tone. "We’re from NewScene. We’d like to schedule a meeting."

Those words hit my brain like lightning, freezing me for a few seconds. My heart started beating faster, and I felt a wave of nervousness rise in my throat, choking my words. NewScene! My God, it was NewScene! How long had I been dreaming of this opportunity? How long had I waited for this call?

I took a deep breath, trying to stay in control. I felt such intense joy that I could barely process what was happening. Bradley always said I was too emotional, that I needed to learn to control my reactions. He hated when I let my feelings show, especially when it came to work. But now, how could I control this?

"Why?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent, but the anxiety seeped through every syllable. "I mean... you accepted me?"

"Yes, our producers found the perfect character for your profile, Mia. Congratulations."

I couldn’t believe it! My mind spun around that word: accepted. I moved across the room, pacing back and forth with quick steps, almost jumping with joy. A wide smile spread across my face, impossible to contain.

"Thank you!" The words came out almost as a whispered sigh of emotion. "And... the meeting? When will it be?"

"Today, at 5:00 p.m.," he responded, still with that excited tone that reflected my own exhilaration.

And then, as if a shadow had crossed my euphoria, my heart sank. Today at 5:00 p.m.... on a Sunday. Bradley never allowed me to leave the house on weekends, claiming they were our days of rest. He was inflexible about that. While he relaxed, went out to play golf, or met his friends, I stayed confined, keeping the house in order, being "the good wife." And now? My dream was there, on the line, ready to be realized. He would support me in this, wouldn’t he?

I swallowed hard, a feeling of doubt starting to gnaw at my happiness. Maybe Bradley would make an exception this time. He would see how important this was to me. He wouldn’t stop me from realizing a dream... right?

"Mia? Are you there?" The man's voice on the other end of the line brought me back to reality. I had been so distracted by my own thoughts, by my insecurities, that I almost forgot where I was.

I needed to stop losing myself like that. Bradley always said I was too distracted, that I lacked focus. He constantly criticized me for being inattentive, always correcting me, teaching me how he thought I should be.

"Yes, yes, I’m here." I took another deep breath. "Today, at 5:00 p.m.… at the NewScene headquarters?"

"That's right," he confirmed, with an enthusiasm that seemed contagious. "We're expecting you."

"Thank you," I responded before hanging up the phone.

I stood there for a few moments, the phone still in my hand. NewScene wanted me. I was going to be an actress! Finally, I would have the chance to be in front of the cameras, to be seen by the whole world. My mind spun with images of the future, of flashes, interviews, the feeling of being on the big screen. It was the start of something huge, I knew it.

The smile returned to my face, stronger now, but I soon felt the weight of Bradley’s expectations. He always wanted me to fit into the mold he had designed, to stay in line. But... he would have to understand this time, wouldn’t he? I needed him to understand. This was everything I ever wanted.

And now, one question lingered in my mind: how was I going to tell him?

I clearly remember the day I shared my dream with Bradley. I had just confessed that I wanted to be an actress, that acting made me feel alive. But instead of encouragement or support, I received a laugh of pure disdain. Bradley laughed as if I had said the most absurd thing in the world. His eyes analyzed me coldly, and at that moment, I knew he didn’t believe in me. He never believed in me. Perhaps, deep down, he thought he was protecting me, sparing me the disappointment of failing at something he believed I wasn’t talented enough for.

I understood. He was a practical, realistic man. And as a renowned film director, he knew the backstage of the industry better than anyone. He knew how competitive and unforgiving it was. He believed he was saving me from a world of rejection. He would say it was better to keep me away from Hollywood's illusions. "You’re good at so many other things, Mia," he would say, as if pursuing my dreams was foolish.

But over time, I began to realize there was more to his attitude. It wasn’t just about protecting me. It was about control. Bradley liked having control over everything, over us. He wanted to be the only one responsible for our successes, the only one to decide what was important or not. And I, apparently, wasn’t part of that grand plan. I was just "his wife," a piece in the puzzle he crafted with precision and coldness.

Now, he was in negotiations with another major film rental company, about to close one of the biggest sponsorships of his career. As I thought about this, the realization hit me suddenly, like a punch in the stomach: what would Bradley think if he knew I was about to work for one of his biggest competitors? NewScene, known for being a thorn in the side of directors like Bradley who sought the top.

I hadn’t thought about this until that moment. My thoughts began to race. He would be furious. More than that, he would feel betrayed. Bradley’s pride was enormous, almost untouchable. And I, being his wife, would be working for the competition. I sat down on the couch and started biting my nails, feeling anxiety rise in my chest. He would be disappointed... no, he would be furious.

But then, a soft voice in my mind tried to console me. “But he could avoid all this,” my subconscious whispered. “Bradley could help you with your dream; he could give you a role in his world-famous films.” It made sense, didn’t it? He had the power, the influence; he could easily open doors for me... if he wanted to.

No... I shook my head, pushing the thought away. Bradley had made it clear that he was not interested in helping me with this dream. I was just a dreamer, a woman with foolish hopes, while he navigated a sea of harsh, merciless realities. He knew what was best for us. He was older, more experienced. Wiser, I repeated, trying to convince myself of that.

But even though I tried to convince myself that Bradley was right, I couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling forming in the pit of my heart. What if he was wrong? What if what I really needed was the exact opposite of what he said? I was not just a dreamer. I was someone who believed that dreams are essential. And that was my dream, something I had nurtured since I was very young. I couldn’t just give up out of fear of displeasing Bradley.

He was my husband, yes, but that didn’t mean he was my owner. And yet, no matter how much I repeated that to myself, I knew the painful truth: almost always, he took on that role. Almost always, he made me feel so small, so insignificant. It was as if, in our life together, I had shrunk, losing confidence in myself. The spark I carried in my chest had slowly faded, and I barely noticed it happening.

I let out a long sigh, and with it, a silent prayer slipped from my lips. I pleaded, with all my heart, that Bradley, for once, would understand me. That he would see how much this meant to me. That his heart would open, that he would believe in me and in my dream. I asked that, finally, he would love me the way I needed to be loved. Because pretending to be happy every day was becoming unbearable.

I needed real love, from someone who saw me, who heard me, who believed in me. If Bradley couldn’t be that person... then I would have to find it elsewhere.

The happiness that the dream of NewScene had brought me was still there, latent, but now mixed with a deep sadness, the painful realization that perhaps I was living a lie. I knew that something had to change, and soon. Because continuing like this, waiting for Bradley to love me the way I needed, was slowly killing me.