Abuse…?
She'd never abuse anyone—least of all her child!
No, scratch that—she wouldn't abuse anyone!
Laila was honestly speechless at her mother's imagination. Just what kind of unfit mother did Janet take her for?
"I'll come back after I finish filming the new movie. But right now, I need to give it my full attention."
She was grateful for her mother's concern, but when it came to film, Laila had her principles—non-negotiable ones.
Janet opened her mouth to say more, but Laila didn't give her the chance.
"Mom, you know me better than anyone. Movies are everything to me. I'm fine with compromising on other things, but not this. Please forgive my stubbornness, just this once. I love filmmaking. Do you think I'd push my body so far that I'd never be able to shoot again?"
"…"
Janet had no retort. Laila's words were too convincing—what could she even argue anymore?
Imagining the look on her mother's face—frustrated and silenced—Laila couldn't help but chuckle.
"Mom, I know you love me. But I'm no longer that little girl lying in bed, chronically ill. I'm healthy now, and I'll stay healthy. Just trust me—just this once."
"Hmph!" Janet grunted. Every time Laila did this—reasoning so calmly and thoroughly—she left Janet no openings to speak.
"I don't want to talk to you anymore. Put Roy on the phone!"
Laila sighed and handed the phone to Roy, who had been sitting beside her, trying to stifle a laugh.
"Hi Janet, it's Roy."
"Roy, you agree with what she's doing?"
Roy glanced at Laila, who was watching him closely, and replied with a calm smile,
"Yes. I support her decision."
Janet practically glared through the phone, so angry she could explode. If only she could climb through the receiver and twist this boy's ear a few times!
"Do you even love Laila anymore? How can you support all her reckless choices?"
At the mention of love, Roy's smile faded. He answered seriously:
"Janet, I support her because I love her. You know why she makes movies? Because she loves them. Should I use my love to take away hers? That wouldn't be love—that would be unfair."
Once again, Janet was left speechless.
"Fine, fine! I can't argue with either of you! But if anything happens to her, I swear I'll come beat you up!"
Roy chuckled. "Fair enough. If something happens to her, you can come and hit me all you want—I won't dodge."
And all he heard in return was the beep beep of a call abruptly ended.
He handed the phone back to Laila.
"Janet hung up. You heard her—if you don't take care of yourself, I'm the one getting smacked."
The image of Janet waving her slender wrist, threatening to smack Roy, made both of them laugh.
"Thanks for supporting me," Laila said warmly, grateful he was by her side. Maybe it was because Roy was there that Janet hadn't pushed the issue further.
Roy smiled and gently patted her hand. "It's my honor."
How lucky he was to have met her.
Laila didn't respond, just returned a heartfelt smile.
But it wasn't just he who was lucky—so was she.
How many men out there would support a woman so completely from behind the scenes?
—
October was a beautiful month, full of ripening fruit and blazing red maple leaves.
Ever since setting the schedule, Laila had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of October—for she would finally get to collaborate again with the "big brother" who held such a unique place in her heart.
Her good mood was infectious. Everyone around her could feel it. People were dying to know what had put her in such high spirits, but only a few like Demi and Louise had the nerve to ask.
Even then, all they got was a vague explanation: she was excited to begin a new movie.
It was a weak excuse, sure—but passable.
After all, if making movies made her happy, why hadn't they seen her smile like this before?
Some employees even found it terrifying. There were several who had their knees go weak just from seeing their boss grinning.
They used to think she was cold and distant, the classic unapproachable CEO.
But now they realized something worse: her smiling face was even more terrifying.
They all agreed—they'd rather see her serious and cold than flashing those cheerful smiles that made them feel like juicy little chicks being eyed by a cunning fox.
If they had the guts, they'd march up to her and beg,
"Boss, please stop smiling—we're scared."
Of course, those were just the inner thoughts of staff who didn't know her well.
Those who had spent more time around her knew better—that wasn't a fox's smile, it was genuine happiness.
Still, the question remained—what exactly was making her so happy?
Before anyone could crack the mystery, excitement broke out among the VFX team and several staff members.
Why?
Because they were going to ride the boss's private jet for a few months of island life!
That's right—Laila, for the sake of convenience, had decided to relocate the post-production staff of The Avengers—visual effects, music, and more—to the same remote island where she would shoot her next film. A beautiful, private island.
Now that's what you call loaded.
As soon as the news broke, people thought she had lost her mind.
Someone even did the math.
With all the post-production personnel included, there would be no fewer than a few hundred people. Even ignoring the jaw-dropping cost of flights to the island, just their living expenses would be astronomical.
Hundreds of people need to eat. Drink. Use supplies.
And what about their living quarters? It's not like she could stick them all in tents.
She'd have to provide actual housing. Equipment could be shipped in, but people needed beds, bathrooms, electricity, and infrastructure.
Just that alone meant spending tens of millions of dollars.
What studio in its right mind would sink that kind of money into something so obviously unprofitable?
Adding tens of millions to a film's budget—did she think she could recoup all that from ticket sales?
Or was she just so insanely rich that she had to find outrageous ways to spend money to feel alive?
Once the story broke, the media went into a frenzy.
Across the globe, people were stunned. All for her convenience, Laila had packed up an entire production department and flown them to a private island.
Workers everywhere gnashed their teeth in envy, exclaiming:
"Can we please get a boss like this?!"
But whether it was the media's criticism or the public's mockery, Laila remained silent—smiling, saying nothing.
After all, who outside could ever understand what she was planning?