From the very beginning, they laid a trap for her—were they trying to stir up controversy for clicks?
Laila didn't think she was overthinking it. After dealing with the media for so many years, she rarely missed the red flags.
After a few seconds of thought, she smiled and said,
"Back then, I needed to answer—to myself, to my fans who love me, and to all those who have always supported me. You asked whether I truly meant what I said. Yes, I did. At that time, it was the only way I could prove myself, the only way to spare the people who liked me from the humiliation caused by all those absurd rumors."
The reporter's interest was piqued at her use of the word 'humiliation': "Why do you call it humiliation?"
Though he asked calmly, inwardly he felt unsettled. Her answer wasn't what he'd expected.
If she had simply said "yes" or "no," he had a whole set of tricky follow-up questions ready to push her into a corner. But now, her answer not only affirmed the intention, it also carried far more weight than any of his planned traps.
He had no choice but to abandon his original line of questioning and pivot to something more sensational.
And that was exactly what Laila wanted.
In any form of conversation—negotiations, interviews, or debates—she liked to hold the reins. She had no interest in being led by the nose. That only made one passive and vulnerable to being tripped up.
So she had thrown out a bait to pull the opponent onto her turf. Once a line of questions gets disrupted, it's not so easy to stitch it back together.
And just a single word—"humiliation"—was enough to throw the reporter off balance. Clearly not a seasoned opponent.
With that, Laila relaxed, maintaining a polite yet distant smile in front of the reporter.
"If someone you care about is being slandered and insulted with discriminatory language, wouldn't you feel humiliated and angry? My fans were very supportive of me. When I was being unfairly attacked, they spoke up on my behalf and fought for fair treatment. But at that time, I couldn't break free from the whirlpool of public opinion—I could only watch helplessly as they bore the pain and humiliation. That broke my heart. Fortunately, all of that is in the past now."
The reporter was left speechless by her reply. Once again, he felt like his carefully prepared questions had nowhere to go.
He had interviewed many people—some high and mighty, others from the lowest rungs of society. Truthfully, he hadn't even wanted this assignment. He'd rather put his identity as a journalist to better use—going undercover in dangerous places, exposing corruption, uncovering dark truths.
Compared to interviewing a film director, he wanted his name to be remembered for something bigger. Like the journalists who exposed the juicy stories between presidents and their assistants, or the ones who uncovered illegal sweatshops that endangered lives.
At the very least, even exposing corrupt cops or shady campaign funding would be more fulfilling. But interviewing a director? What was the point? Unless someone had died on her set, or unless she was notoriously abusive to her crew?
Before coming, he had indeed looked into that angle—but every industry insider told him the same thing: Moran Studios had the best benefits and treatment in the entire film industry. Anyone skilled enough to get hired there wouldn't have to worry about paying their bills ever again.
Honestly, that glowing reputation annoyed him. He didn't believe in overly generous bosses, nor did he believe in perfect people. So which was it—was her acting just that good, or had no one bothered to dig deeper?
Yet after exhaustive research, all he could confirm was that there was no dirt on her. That alone was enough to make him lose interest.
Still, the fact that he had been granted the interview showed he had the trust of his higher-ups. So despite his lack of enthusiasm, he still prepared diligently—compiling a set of questions he believed could lead this director into more controversial or revealing territory.
But what he didn't expect at all was that his carefully planned interview had veered completely off course from the very beginning—and the farther it went, the more irretrievable it became.
What was going on?
He forced himself to regroup and continued,
"Do you think the fact that you were able to break the all-time box office record this time—was that your personal success, or your fans' success?"
Laila's eyes narrowed slightly, her ice-blue gaze locking onto the reporter's face like it could pierce right through him. Again, she sensed the hostility behind his words.
This person clearly had an issue with her. Why else would every question he asked be laced with double meanings, laying traps for her to fall into?
If she said it was her own success, it would offend a large group of people. But if she gave all the credit to her fans, that would be equally problematic. In short, any direct answer to this question would be stepping into a minefield—just like the earlier one. The only option was to take a different route.
But really… why was he so against her? Did she steal his wife or something?
Maybe her stare was too intense—because even the reporter found it hard to withstand. He instinctively avoided her gaze.
Laila let out a soft scoff, then changed her posture—leaning back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other. Her right hand rested on the armrest, and in an instant, a commanding aura surged from her whole body—like a domineering CEO exuding control from her throne.
Since he clearly came here looking for trouble, there was no need to remain overly polite.
"I think that's a rather foolish question, Mr. Reporter. It seems you don't know much about film. Anyone with even a basic understanding of filmmaking wouldn't make that kind of assumption. A film's success is never the work of a single person. It takes the support of many people to create a movie, and even more to make it a success."
The reporter's face instantly turned dark.
She was saying he didn't understand film?
So what if he hadn't studied directing before? Was it now required to be a trained filmmaker just to interview a director?
Laila's remark only deepened his resentment. The dissatisfaction he had been suppressing now multiplied a hundredfold, making him want to storm out right then and there. She was just a director, wasn't she? So what if her movie made a ton of money? Big deal.
Cameron directed a $3 billion movie and held the all-time box office record back then. And so what? In ten years of top celebrity rankings, he only made it to #25—and was even ranked below some Eastern writer!
These kinds of records—broken every few years—weren't worth much in the long run. Who's to say someone won't surpass her next year?
Where did she get the audacity to call him ignorant?
He was waiting for the day someone broke her record. He'd be there, camera in hand, to capture her look of disappointment and despair—then plaster it all over the media for the world to see.
Let's see if she can still act so high and mighty then!