Two weeks flew by in the blink of an eye.
As the release date drew nearer, reports about the Avengers began to flood media outlets of all sizes. Some were paid advertisements arranged by Laila's team, while others were from media riding the hype for free.
The fact that so many outlets were willing to promote the film at no cost was proof enough of Laila's influence. What kind of movie could entice the media to advertise it for free? It had to be the kind that generated serious buzz—one that promised major returns for media traffic.
And when it came to buzz, Laila had never lacked in that department.
She was constantly surrounded by headlines: her achievements, her lovers, her child, her family, her career—there was always endless material for the public to dig into with fascination.
This time, her movie had stirred up a global frenzy around superheroes.
Of course, the over $200 million poured into promotional campaigns had a lot to do with the spectacle. But more than that, it was the film's own headline-grabbing promise—Laila's public vow to break Avatar's legendary $3 billion box office record!
Three. Billion. Dollars.
Just one film's earnings—just imagining it made people's hearts race.
A company worth $3 billion would already be considered a major enterprise. Yet that same figure was the target gross for a single movie. Even if it was the highest-grossing film in cinematic history, the number was staggering.
Back when Titanic held the all-time box office record, filmmakers would regularly claim their new movie would top it. But in the end, it took James Cameron himself, with Avatar, to raise that ceiling—after which no other director dared to challenge the number for fear of being laughed at.
In an era when several films had already broken the billion-dollar mark, aiming for $1.8 billion wasn't so far-fetched. But to leap straight from there to $3 billion? Unless you were an unfiltered lunatic, no one would dare throw their reputation away like that.
So, when everyone assumed the Avatar record would stand untouched for decades, one so-called "madwoman" stepped up—and actually said she was going to challenge it.
If it had been anyone else, the world would've laughed it off as a cheap marketing tactic. But this madwoman was Laila Moran, and anything she said instantly became a media sensation.
Even before Avatar, film critics had predicted that if anyone could surpass Titanic, it would be Laila and no one else.
And even after Avatar, similar predictions persisted—excluding James Cameron himself, the only other person deemed capable of breaking that record… was still Laila.
On the all-time box office leaderboard, her films alone made up nearly half the top spots. Not only that, she had set ticket sales records that had gone unbroken for two decades.
If anyone was destined to become the new #1 in box office history, it really was hard to imagine anyone other than her.
At first, people thought they'd be watching a long game—waiting to see how long it would take her to challenge the record. Or maybe they expected Cameron to raise the bar even higher with a new masterpiece.
No one expected that in just a few short years—right in the year Avatar failed to sweep the Oscars—Laila would publicly announce her intent to break the all-time box office record.
Those who understood the situation at the time knew how unfavorable the public opinion was against her then, and how emotionally driven she must've been to make such an "irrational" claim.
But the words were spoken. Now, what people wanted to know was whether she could actually do it. Whether she said it to prove herself, or to prove that female directors were no less capable than men—it didn't matter. What mattered was that she said it, and she meant it enough to go and make a movie to back it up.
Looking at Avengers alone, it certainly had blockbuster potential. It featured a lineup of superheroes and a wealth of CGI. And with Laila's filmmaking prowess, breaking the billion mark seemed highly achievable. But three billion? Even her most devoted fans would admit—it didn't seem realistic.
The media pointed out two major reasons for their skepticism:
First, it was well known that Laila had decided to make the film "in a fit of anger."
Previous superhero films had ended with post-credits scenes teasing future installments. That implied Avengers was always in the pipeline—but no one knew when it would actually be made. If it had been officially scheduled for production, there would've been signs long before filming began.
The lack of such information suggested that Laila's decision to move forward had been impulsive, and that production was rushed—meaning preparations were likely insufficient.
Second, and even more telling: she finalized the script in just two weeks and completed the entire movie within a single year! One year—for a special effects-heavy film! That's barely enough time for VFX work alone. What could anyone expect from a film made in such a hurry?
If it weren't for Laila's spotless track record—never having released a single bad film—this alone would've been enough for fans to lose faith in her.
Thanks to her past success, her fans scrambled to come up with explanations: maybe she had already planned to make Avengers long ago. Maybe the script had been written earlier and just needed two weeks of tweaking. That didn't sound so unreasonable, right?
And as for the VFX...
Maybe this movie didn't actually have that many heavy effects. Maybe just a few key scenes could carry the visual weight. Maybe, because the VFX company was hers, she could mobilize her entire team to shorten the production cycle.
To be fair, her fans made good arguments—at least convincing enough that many people bought into them.
In their eyes, Laila was the best. Everything she did had purpose.
Unfortunately, not everyone was a fan—many didn't see her through a halo of admiration.
The more rational portion of moviegoers—the largest demographic, really—didn't care about box office numbers, nor her past achievements. What they cared about was this movie, the one about to hit theaters.