As the Avengers premiere began, those who hadn't been lucky enough to score tickets—but were still deeply interested—had been glued to their screens, constantly refreshing for any updates. Even though they couldn't watch the movie in real-time, they were desperate to hear the first reactions from those who could.
And truthfully, most of them didn't want Laila's film to flop. They all understood one thing: the "bold declarations" Laila made before production began had been made in anger, under pressure. Anyone in her shoes—slandered and accused like that—would've likely lashed out in similar ways.
So fans and neutral audiences alike had already made up their minds:
Even if Avengers didn't beat Avatar, that didn't make Laila any less of a brilliant director.
They simply felt sorry that someone who had fought her way up from an 18-year-old girl was still facing so much undeserved backlash.
Her fans had long since decided:
Whatever the media says about Laila, we'll treat it as a joke.
The Laila who succeeds is cool.
The Laila who fails is still their idol.
But just as countless people were refreshing social media and news pages for any updates about the film…
A breaking news alert suddenly popped up on a major entertainment site—and it hit fans like a bolt of lightning.
The headline was explosive:
"SHOCKING! Laila Moran's New Film Involved in Box Office Fraud Scandal"
Just the title alone was enough to make hearts race—and everyone who saw it clicked immediately.
After all, who was Laila? She was the top-grossing director in Hollywood history. Her films had always been miracles at the box office. And now someone was claiming she bought her ticket sales?
Thousands of people scrolled down in a panic, eager to see what this was all about. If this was just clickbait, they were ready to roast this news outlet to death.
The article read:
"As many know, Director Moran declared before production that she intended to challenge the all-time global box office record.
But our reporters have just received a shocking tip—her box office results were purchased!"
To back up the claims, the site posted several images of "evidence," including graphs showing supposedly manipulated box office figures, suspicious spikes, and final tallies that didn't add up.
They even included a video interview with a masked and voice-altered "insider," who claimed he was ordered by Laila herself to approach theaters and arrange "cooperative partnerships." He detailed how much money changed hands, how many tickets were bought in bulk—and every word made readers suck in a breath of disbelief.
Fans were devastated.
Laila? The director they respected so much?
Why would someone that good ever need to buy ticket sales?
As if that weren't enough, the so-called insider, still hiding behind digital filters, began painting Laila as a tyrannical boss who threatened to fire employees who didn't comply with her demands—pressuring them to participate in illegal activity.
To bolster his credibility, he casually described incidents from within Laila's company—who was close to whom, how scared people were when she showed up at the office, and other details that sounded like something only insiders would know.
Some believed him. Others immediately called BS.
Skeptics pointed out that nothing the insider said was actually secret. Office gossip like that could easily spread from employees to friends, and from friends to friends. And if this so-called "insider" was hiding his face and his voice, wasn't that just more proof he had something to hide?
"If you're telling the truth, why cover yourself so much? Sounds like guilt to me."
Still, there were plenty of people who found the "evidence" too convincing to ignore. Even if the testimony could be fake, how could anyone explain those irregular ticket sales figures?
Laila's influence was global, and this scandal broke at the same time as the premiere of Avengers.
In seconds, it set the entire internet on fire.
Discussion threads on forums and Facebook exploded with activity.
The article was reposted and forwarded at lightning speed.
It instantly spread across the U.S., and within hours, it would be global.
After all, Laila wasn't just any director—she was one of the biggest names in the world. Too many people were watching her, and too many media outlets were looking for a way to drag her down.
Soon, people split into two opposing camps:
Camp A: "Laila Would Never"
They argued that Laila, with her status and influence, had no reason to do something illegal like buying ticket sales. She didn't need to embellish her success—her films always performed.
Camp B: "Desperate Times, Desperate Measures"
They claimed that Laila had publicly stated she wanted to beat the record before production even started. And of course, she'd want to buy ticket sales to make that happen.
To the first group, the second group's logic was laughable:
"You think she'd try to beat Avatar's 3 billion record by buying half of it herself?"
"Her highest-grossing film before this was around $1.5–1.6 billion. Is she going to spend another $1.5 billion from her own pocket to 'buy the record'?"
Ridiculous.
And even if she tried to do that, how could she keep it hidden?
The moment you buy tickets on that scale, the media will catch wind instantly.
She'd spend billions, destroy her reputation, and still lose.
Who would be that stupid?
The debate was fiery—each side had "facts" and theories, and no one was backing down.
And at that exact moment—
The premiere ended.
As the theater lights came back on, the audience burst into thunderous applause and cheering. The movie was over, but their hearts were still pounding from the adrenaline.
"That was AMAZING!"
"I'm so glad I came tonight!"
Dozens of people immediately decided they were coming back for a second or even third showing. The visuals, the battles, the sweeping action—there were too many memorable scenes to process in one sitting. They couldn't wait to relive it again.
Hearing that applause, both the film's creators and the guests—including critics—could tell:
This movie was a success.
But even they couldn't guess what the final box office numbers would be.
Still, hitting $1 billion? Almost guaranteed.
As for whether it could truly surpass Avatar?
Even the critics who had once scoffed at Laila's bold ambition were now reevaluating their stance. The film clearly had massive potential. It would absolutely win over young audiences. The only uncertainty was—could it draw in other age groups as well?