Breaking Mrs. Ashford

REAL REALITY TV IS LOOKING FOR MRS. RIGHT

Are you married?

Are you faithful?

Are you traditional?

Do you put your husband and family first?

We're searching across America for one ordinary woman to take part in an extraordinary reality experiment.

She won't be an actress.

She won't be an influencer.

She won't know what's coming.

We want a devoted wife. A loving mother. A woman with strong values and an even stronger marriage.

We're looking for the perfect Mrs.

And when we find her...

we're going to find out what it takes to break her.

BREAKING MRS. ...

COMING SOON

Real Reality TV. Real people. No scripts. No limits.

Rebecca Ashford's day simply could not get any worse.

Her mother had been calling all morning, complaining that she'd only agreed to watch the children for a few hours. Richard was in one of his moods, the blistering Texas sunshine was making her feet ache, and she'd just suffered the humiliation of being turned down for a job folding clothes at a department store.

She'd never needed a job before. Richard had always provided for them. But Richard had been out of work for months now, and Rebecca had discovered there were only so many different ways to move numbers around on the kitchen table before they stubbornly refused to add up.

Apparently, fifteen years of keeping a house immaculate, raising two children, and making sure her husband never went without a hot dinner didn't count as relevant experience.

Rebecca wasn't entirely sure what qualifications a person needed to fold shirts into little squares, but whatever they were, she didn't have them.

Not that Richard seemed to understand that.

“Well, you must've said something wrong,” he'd told her, as though she hadn't already spent the last ten minutes fighting back tears.

Now he was leading her down Main Street toward yet another store, his hand wrapped firmly around hers.

“Richard, honey, could we maybe stop for a minute?”

“We've got two more places to try, Becky.”

“But Mama's been calling, and--”

“Your mama can wait.”

Rebecca pressed her lips together.

She hated it when he spoke about her mother like that. But she hated arguing with him even more.

They'd almost reached the next storefront when a neatly dressed gentleman stepped into their path, a clipboard tucked beneath his arm.

“Excuse me, folks! Could I trouble y'all for a couple of minutes?”

Richard barely slowed.

“Not interested, thanks.”

“Oh, it's nothing like that, sir. We're conducting a little survey about married couples in the area.”

Rebecca glanced back apologetically.

“We're married,” she offered, with a small, nervous smile.

She nearly walked into Richard when he abruptly stopped in front of her.

“And your name, ma'am?” the man asked.

“Rebecca. Rebecca Ashford.”

“A pleasure, Mrs. Ashford. I promise I won't take up too much of your time.”

Richard simply grunted. His hand squeezed Rebecca's, making her wince. He had never liked strangers prying into their personal affairs. Especially when it came to their marriage. She couldn't really blame him for that, could she?

“If you had to describe your marriage in one word, what would you use? Please, both answer at the same time, three, two…”

“Happy,” Rebecca said.

“Duty,” Richard said.

Rebecca glanced at him. Duty?

The man's pen paused.

His smile widened.

“Great, really strong answers, folks. Kids?”

“Yes, sir, we have two.”

“Amazing.” As the man spoke, he wrote on his clipboard. “Now how often would y'all say you have sex?”

Rebecca's eyes widened.

Surely she'd misheard him.

She looked at Richard. His lips were tight, his eyes narrowed. Apparently she hadn't.

She looked back at the man and shook her head.

“That's not really a question to be asking a lady, now, is it?” Richard said, his voice ice.

“Our clients are looking for ordinary married couples, particularly those with traditional family values. There's a substantial financial incentive for selected participants.”

“I think you've asked quite enough questions, son.” Richard's voice was perfectly calm. “And I suggest you find somebody else's wife to bother.”

Still holding Rebecca's hand, he turned and marched across the street without another word, leaving the man frowning after them.

As he drove them home, he kept muttering to himself.

“No respect these days, no respect at all…”

Rebecca watched the little shops disappear through the passenger window.

She couldn't help wondering how much money the gentleman had been talking about.