Chapter 18: Inviting Nicole Kidman
Meanwhile, on Sunset Boulevard, inside Nicole Kidman's apartment.
"Kidman, Scott's side says they're less than a week away from starting production.
We worked incredibly hard to secure the female lead for you—you have to seize this opportunity.
Don't forget, this is a chance to work with Tom Cruise.
Using him as a springboard, you'll absolutely explode in Hollywood."
The call was from Shanahan Management in Australia.
The assistant responsible for liaising with Nicole spoke earnestly, almost pleading.
At that very moment, Nicole Kidman was lying naked in a bathtub filled with warm water, rubbing the inner corners of her eyes.
She clearly had a headache.
"Alright, I understand," she said quietly.
"Let me give you an answer tonight. I need a little more time."
Without waiting for a response from the other end, she hung up.
William's sudden appearance had thrown her carefully laid plans into disarray.
Originally, she had already mapped everything out—
how long it would take to become romantically involved with Tom Cruise,
how to leverage his Hollywood connections,
how to ride that momentum straight into the upper echelons of the industry.
But after seeing what William was capable of behind the camera, something inside her stirred.
On one side stood Tom Cruise—already famous, already powerful.
On the other, a director who had not yet made his name, but clearly possessed extraordinary potential.
To be honest, she didn't want to give up either.
But reality was cruel.
She couldn't have both.
She had to choose—
between William and Tom Cruise.
Truth be told, she had met Tom Cruise once before at the Days of Thunder project launch cocktail party.
The first impression hadn't been bad.
And yet… something about him felt off.
"Damn it… this is all that man's fault."
Nicole let out an annoyed breath, scrubbing her face with both hands before rising from the bathtub.
Water streamed down her pale skin as she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself.
After roughly drying off, she slipped into a blue silk robe.
---
Elsewhere, the phone in William's office suddenly rang.
He picked it up.
"Hey, William. It's me—Nicole."
Perhaps because she'd been rejected the last time they met, Nicole sounded faintly awkward, an unfamiliar hesitation coloring her voice.
"Kidman?" William paused.
Ironically, he'd been thinking about contacting her himself—
and now the call had come first.
He had already decided that his first legitimate film couldn't be high-budget.
A psychological thriller was the safest option.
And the first title that came to mind—Before I Go to Sleep.
So William decided to directly recreate this film.
That was why he wanted to contact Nicole in the first place—
if she agreed to take the role, all the better.
If not, then the two actresses he had recently met—Catherine Zeta-Jones or Jennifer Aniston—could serve as substitutes.
The quality would be slightly lower, of course.
After all, both women were still in their early newcomer phase. Their acting skills hadn't yet reached the level they would display after becoming famous.
---
"Y-yeah… it's me."
Nicole's voice carried a hint of hesitation, as though she was weighing something.
"Funny coincidence," William replied calmly.
"I was just about to reach out to you as well."
"Oh? Really? That is a coincidence."
Nicole sounded genuinely surprised.
She had assumed that this man—of all people—would probably never be the one to initiate contact.
"So… what did you want to talk to me about?" she asked, unable to hide a trace of anticipation.
Invite me. Just say it.
If you ask, I'll turn down Days of Thunder on the spot.
Youth had a way of blurring judgment.
And yes—sometimes it really did come down to looks.
If not for whatever mysterious force had optimized William's body after his rebirth, he wouldn't have been comparable to Tom Cruise at all.
But as things stood now, he could stand shoulder to shoulder with Cruise at his physical peak.
"Are you free tonight?" William asked.
"How about dinner?"
This wasn't the direct invitation Nicole had imagined.
William had no idea what was going through her head.
From his perspective, she hadn't even read the script yet—there was no way she'd agree outright.
The safer approach was to let her read it first.
Once she realized the role had practically been written for her, the odds of success would rise dramatically.
At least, that was what William believed.
In reality, if he had simply asked, Nicole Kidman would almost certainly have agreed immediately.
Sometimes, rationality didn't get the final say.
---
That evening, in an upscale French restaurant.
An Englishman and an Australian—having French cuisine together.
Nicole wore a pale blue evening gown, with a simple shawl draped over her shoulders.
Her naturally curly blonde hair fell loosely, framing her face.
She carried an unmistakable aura of old British aristocracy—
Despite being Australian.
William's outfit, on the other hand, was his usual:
a plain shirt and a suit, understated and neat.
They sat facing each other by the window.
Apéritifs and small appetizers were arranged on the table.
William tore into a small bread roll, casually glancing at Nicole as she read the script with complete focus.
Truth be told, spending time around beautiful women did wonders for one's mood.
Especially when the beauty in question was reading a script seriously—
radiating that quiet, intellectual charm.
Across from him, Nicole had been absorbed from the moment she turned the first page.
As a professional actress, her instincts were sharp.
She could immediately tell that Christine was an extraordinarily complex and demanding role.
And the more she read, the more convinced she became that William was a director with genuine artistic ambition.
If he were only chasing box office returns, he wouldn't have written such a psychologically dense character, nor structured the story in such a restrained, unsettling way.
This kind of role—
was exactly what Nicole Kidman wanted.
A chance to prove her acting ability.
Not just another decorative presence.
After a long while, Nicole slowly closed the script and looked up at William, her expression complicated.
This man looked young—
Yet the work he had written was startlingly mature.
Is this what a true genius looks like?
The thought surfaced unbidden.
"Do you really think… I can handle Christine?" she asked softly, a trace of uncertainty slipping through.
For his part, William had no doubts at all.
He had seen the original film in his previous life.
Her performance hadn't been flawless—but it had been powerful.
"I trust my eye," William said calmly.
"So—are you interested?"