There were simply too many businesses trying to ride the wave of attention surrounding Laila's wedding. The messy, inconsistent flood of information eventually pushed the public—who genuinely just wanted the truth—into frustration.
"Laila's movie is still in theaters, and she's not even using her wedding for publicity. Can these random shops just stop trying to hitch a ride on the hype?"
"Exactly! Other people will stoop to anything for box office numbers, but Laila just keeps doing what she loves—making films—with no gimmicks, no cheap tricks!"
"What if every filmmaker were like her? Maybe then we'd get more than just a handful of quality films each year."
"I love her movies so much. Every single one hits just right. I used to think I couldn't stand horror films, but a friend convinced me to watch one of her older ones and—oh my god—I fell in love with horror after that! She started directing at eighteen. She's a miracle."
"The Avengers is only about 100 million away from breaking the record. I'm planning to go see it again with my girlfriend. Why waste time on the new trash in theaters when I can enjoy Laila's film all over again?"
Amidst this wave of public sentiment, The Avengers' box office took another unexpected leap. In some areas, it was even being re-released in theaters where it had already finished its run.
Maybe it had something to do with the current drought of quality films—every recent release had flopped hard. As a result, this several-month-old blockbuster was somehow outperforming brand-new films in terms of attendance. A bizarre sight, but undeniably real.
When Anthony saw both the shift in public opinion and the box office data, he realized something humbling:
He was still far behind Laila.
He'd actually questioned her rationality—when in truth, it was he who hadn't seen the full picture.
Just look at the online buzz:
Because Laila didn't use her wedding for self-promotion, the mystery around it only grew. The more she stayed quiet, the more people wanted to dig, to speculate, to know more.
And the public respected her for it.
They saw her as someone who genuinely let her work speak for itself—unlike those who'd sacrifice all dignity and decency just to drum up some buzz for their flop of a movie.
Anthony felt a storm of emotions churning in his chest.
No wonder Laila had built Hollywood's most profitable production company from the ground up—she saw the world differently.
He'd always thought he was pretty capable.
But compared to his young boss, he wasn't even in the same league. His little schemes and "clever ideas" were nothing but jokes in the face of her wisdom.
And the worst part? He'd once been smug about them. Just remembering it made him want to cringe.
"Boss, from now on, whatever you say goes. I'll follow your lead—no arguments, ever!"
He called Laila on the spot, wanting to express how much he meant it.
Laila's reaction? One of complete and utter confusion.
What did I do?
This kind of heartfelt praise—it really made her feel like she'd just gained a die-hard fanboy.
"You…"
She opened her mouth, unsure how to even respond.
But before she could get a word in, Anthony rushed to apologize:
"Sorry for interrupting your work. I just wanted to share my thoughts. I won't waste your valuable time!"
And then he hung up.
"…?"
Laila stared at the phone, listening to the dial tone on the other end. She had no idea what to say.
Was this guy seriously that bored? Did he just call me up to mess with me because he had nothing better to do?
Shaking her head, she tossed the nonsense call to the back of her mind.
Right now, what lay before her was the latest global box office report, as of yesterday.
The Avengers was now only 130 million dollars away from breaking Avatar's record.
She had told herself to be okay with coming in second… but looking at this number now, her heart started itching again.
This was the closest she had ever come to breaking a historic box office record. If she missed this opportunity, who knew how many more years—or decades—it would take for everything to line up so perfectly again?
Her version of The Avengers used the most cutting-edge Hollywood VFX available, and because of her early investment and support, current special effects technology was years ahead of where it had been in her past life.
But even more crucial than the tech was the presence of a super theater network in the East, complete with a massive number of IMAX screens.
What IMAX did for Avatar last year, it was now doing for her.
Over the past year alone, countless new mega-theaters have opened across the Eastern market. All those additional screens were now pumping fresh life into her box office numbers.
All these factors combined to make this moment possible.
To back down now? It was too bitter a pill to swallow.
A few days ago, Roy's gentle reassurance had helped her push down her swirling thoughts and find temporary peace. But staring at these numbers now, she realized—deep in her heart—she still had the unyielding desire to compete.
To win.
Biting her lip, she picked up the phone and dialed a number.
"This is Laila Moran. I'd like to ask—how much longer will it take to complete the dress I ordered?"
She had called Xuanji Embroidery House.
The girl who answered initially thought the fluent Eastern speech must be from one of their usual clients. But as soon as she entered the name "Laila Moran" into the system, her eyes widened in realization.
That Laila Moran?!
The legendary director?!
Hollywood's top director?!
A global superstar?!
Wait—what had she just said to her?
"Please hold…"?
Oh god, she'd just asked someone like that to hold?!
Was she going to lose her job?
Had she just offended a VIP client?
"Hello?" Laila said, finally breaking the silence. She was starting to wonder if there was a problem with the phone line.
Had the call dropped? Why was there no sound?
If she knew her name alone had just frightened a receptionist into stunned silence, she'd probably find it hilarious.
Coincidentally, the boss of the embroidery studio happened to walk in at that exact moment and saw the receptionist looking pale and on the verge of tears.
"What's wrong? Another idiot customer cursing us out again?"
The boss was young but notoriously hot-tempered.
In a place like this, being soft-spoken only got you stepped on.
But to be fair, he was a good person at heart.
The embroiderers stayed loyal to him not just because of the generous pay and great benefits, but also because, with his backing, they knew they wouldn't be bullied or taken advantage of.
That last part mattered, especially in the capital.
You never knew when you'd need connections—just getting your kid into a decent school could depend on who you knew.
And when it came to that, their boss had pull.
If one of the embroiderers came to him with a reasonable request, he rarely turned them down.