In her past life, Laila hadn't been a cold or aloof person—or rather, she hadn't even qualified to be one. Back then, to get a chance to make films, she had done everything. Drinking until she bled from her stomach, flattery, bootlicking, telling people what they wanted to hear, lying through her teeth—at her lowest point, she wasn't even sure if she was still a person… or already a ghost.
So as long as she wanted to, making those powerful Hollywood execs laugh was no difficult task. And it wasn't like she needed to stoop low either—just by virtue of her current identity, being able to speak with her was an honor for most of them.
They gave face, she gave face. That was the formula for the most harmonious kind of conversation.
Louise had always known her young boss had a sharp tongue. Sure, Laila might dislike appearing on talk shows, but every time she did, the results were stellar. No matter how sharp the questions, her responses always left a fresh impression. Most hosts known for their quick wit rarely walked away with the upper hand.
Hollywood's paparazzi were known to be relentless—but who among them had ever actually dug up anything useful from Laila? Every rumor that had leaked in the past was something she had wanted to leak. And the things she didn't want out? No matter how good the paparazzi were, they couldn't get near them.
At first, Louise had worried Laila might not be entirely at ease mingling with people at the premiere. But after dragging her around to meet everyone and seeing how naturally Laila interacted with them all, she was both surprised and relieved—and happily stepped back to take a breather.
She even felt like maybe she'd been overthinking it. Who was Laila's grandfather again? With a heavyweight like him grooming her as heir, how could she possibly be bad at socializing?
Watching Laila glide through the room like a fish in water, Louise even had a fleeting thought—maybe it was time for her to start thinking about retirement.
…Of course, that thought passed in a second. She loved filmmaking too much to retire anytime soon. Watching the confidence radiating from Laila's face, she genuinely believed that maybe—just maybe—she would live to see the day when the highest-grossing film in cinema history came from her studio.
And until that day arrived, how could she even think of stepping away?
Soon, the actors appeared inside the theater, suited up in their superhero costumes. Lucky fans with premiere tickets, along with VIP guests, began filing into the auditorium.
Among them—besides Laila's friends and their plus-ones—were film critics, entertainment journalists, and even some people from other Hollywood studios. No matter how they got in, the fact that they were here meant they had influence and standing in the industry.
Laila had always been the kind of person who'd rather give tickets to her fans than waste them on a bunch of elitist critics who looked down on commercial films from their imaginary moral high ground. Not that she never invited critics, but only those who were willing to speak honestly and view her work without prejudice.
She didn't believe in pretending to be some magnanimous saint who invited critics who bashed her just to show she could take it. She wasn't that holy—and she certainly didn't enjoy being insulted.
So those critics who had a poor relationship with her had to find other ways to get in. And really, they had no choice—if they didn't watch the premiere in real time, readers would immediately question their credibility.
Couldn't even get a seat at the premiere? Couldn't see the film on opening night? Then what kind of critic are you? Gonna wait until regular moviegoers post their thoughts and then react to those?
For the ones who managed to get in by other means, Laila didn't bother to kick them out. As long as they behaved themselves and didn't make a scene, she was content to ignore their presence.
The true heart of the audience tonight, though, was the few hundred real fans who had been allowed in. They were the ones Laila cared about the most.
To gauge how the movie was landing, you didn't need to run surveys—just observe these fans. Their reactions would speak louder than words.
Most of them were either die-hard comic fans or loyal Laila followers. If they weren't satisfied with the film, then there was no point even dreaming about breaking records—it would be a miracle just to break even.
But if they responded enthusiastically, then Laila would know exactly how to steer the next wave of marketing.
Yes—continue marketing.
Promoting a movie didn't end before the premiere. It had to carry through the entire theatrical run. If word of mouth wasn't great, you had to do damage control. If it was excellent, you had to ride the momentum.
This was the golden window—where spending a dollar on promotion could return a hundred, or even a thousand.
Once all the scheduled red carpet activities were done, the theater lights began to dim. The noise in the auditorium faded as the excited energy of stargazing gradually gave way to focused anticipation.
The movie was finally beginning.
When Laila revised the script, she didn't remove the original main plot—not because she couldn't, but because she genuinely liked Loki, the God of Mischief. Over half of the film's humor came from him—his presence alone had rescued the original from becoming a dull, tedious mess.
So she kept the main storyline intact, and focused instead on pacing—tightening the rhythm of the story.
The movie opened with the battle over the Tesseract. In the original version, this part had always annoyed Laila—it just wasn't cool enough. Whether it was the futuristic tech or the gadgets used, there should've been some sense of sci-fi flair—something to make the audience go "Whoa!"
But in the original, it just looked like a clumsy, underfunded LARP session.
If she found it boring, she doubted the audience would feel much different. So in the first few minutes of the film, she poured effort (and money) into amping up the effects and props. And sure enough, the moment the scene hit the screen, she heard someone behind her shout, "Cool!"
Good. That money wasn't wasted.
She smiled with satisfaction.
Next came the Tesseract being stolen—and the ensuing chase. Laila had upped the ante again, bringing in more advanced car-chase techniques. If you're making a blockbuster, make it exciting. Commercial films are about giving the audience a rush—getting their adrenaline pumping.
She had zero problem spending extra time perfecting these scenes. Danger, spectacle, and thrills—that's what she focused on during production.
Whether they were casual fans or industry insiders, no one in that theater had expected to be glued to their seats within the first ten minutes.
Scratch that. Within the first three minutes, the movie had them completely hooked.
The dazzling VFX, the immersive props, the high-octane chase scenes—everything was so engaging that no one could even look away for a second. You blinked, and you might miss something incredible.