After all, this was Laila Moran—the miracle director hailed as a "living legend" of Hollywood. Who would ever doubt the box office success of her films?
What's more, The Dark Knight had been released at a perfect time, sandwiched between periods with no strong competition. Why? Largely because of Laila herself.
No major studio dared release a film opposite hers. That would be cinematic suicide, and no one wanted to become the laughingstock of the industry. They'd rather go head-to-head with any other blockbuster than get steamrolled by a Laila Moran release.
And then, there was the most unexpected—and powerful—factor: her kidnapping. During the film's release, she'd been abducted by ruthless criminals overseas and held for over two weeks. Many people feared the worst, thinking she might become yet another foreigner killed in a tragic incident. Which meant... The Dark Knight could be her final film.
Her final film. If you didn't see it now, what would you say decades later to your children and grandchildren? "Yeah, I lived during the time of Hollywood's legend Laila Moran, but I never saw her last movie in theaters"? How embarrassing would that be?
So, many people flocked to theaters just for that reason. Some of her fans even watched it two or three times—out of support, prayer, and sheer devotion.
That's why the box office was performing so well—and why expectations remained sky-high.
Now that Laila had returned safely, everyone noticed a curious trend: the declining box office numbers of The Dark Knight suddenly experienced a small but noticeable bump. It was a clear sign of her immense personal influence on a film's success.
This made more than a few studios regret not signing her sooner. Why hadn't they brought in such an incredible director to make movies for them?
Their new strategy was simple and aggressive: throw every decent script they could find at her. Maybe—just maybe—she'd agree to direct one. It wouldn't be the first time something like that had happened.
—
After returning to the U.S., Laila had her private jet drop the crew off in Hollywood first. Once the plane was refueled, she and Roy headed for her home in New York.
She hadn't forgotten the worry and longing her family must have felt. And even though she knew there'd be a good scolding waiting for her, the desire to go home only grew stronger.
It had been ten years since she became Laila. With a family that loved her, and Roy who loved her so deeply, even if her heart had once been carved from eternal ice, it would've melted by now.
She hadn't forgotten her past life—but she had also come to love many things in this one. If her previous life was the soul, then this life was the body. Without either, a person could never truly be whole.
"Mom! Grandpa, Grandma—I'm home!" Laila practically leaped out of the car and dashed toward the house.
On the steps out front, her family stood waiting.
"Laila—my Laila!" Janet burst into tears, running toward her daughter as fast as she could.
Though she'd worked hard to act normal over the past week, her swollen eyes had just barely recovered. But the longer Laila had been missing, the deeper her worry grew. Now, seeing her daughter alive and well in front of her, as lively and lovely as ever, she couldn't help but break down completely—crying and hugging her while chanting prayers to God.
"I'm home, Mom." Laila hugged her back tightly, her nose stinging with emotion.
"It's good that you're back. But don't you ever put yourself in such danger again, understand?" Janet began scolding her between sobs.
Laila nodded obediently. "I understand." Though she did understand, she couldn't promise such a thing. As a director, overseas shoots were inevitable. Staying in one country forever would never let her film all the stories in her heart.
Still, now was not the time to argue logistics. Seeing her mother's face streaked with tears and ruined makeup, Laila chuckled and pulled out a tissue to help clean her up.
"Oh, God!" Janet finally realized how she must look. She'd spent two hours doing her makeup, only for it to be destroyed in seconds. She was mortified and dashed back inside to wash her face.
With her mother momentarily out of the picture, Laila turned to her grandparents.
"Grandpa, Grandma, Mr. Quentin—sorry for making you all worry."
"As long as you're back safely," Quentin said with a warm smile.
"Big Sis!" Little William didn't know about the recent events. To him, this was just another joyful family gathering. The moment he saw his beloved sister, he reached out for a hug from his father's arms.
Laila, of course, embraced him happily, then turned to her grandfather, who looked as mysterious and composed as always.
"Come in," Oswald said in his deep, commanding voice. Even just hearing him talk gave people a sense of calm—if you were family. For outsiders, a glance from him would be enough to make most knees buckle.
With William in one arm and her other holding her grandmother's, Laila walked into the house.
Her grandmother wasn't the talkative type. She was elegant and composed and tended to keep her emotions understated. But not speaking them aloud didn't mean she didn't care. Seeing the prayer beads constantly turning in her fingers, Laila knew her grandmother had spent many days praying for her safety.
"You frightened your mother this time," her grandmother said gently, patting her hand after stroking her head.
Laila bowed her head in guilt. "It was my carelessness. I promise it won't happen again." And it was true—she had been careless. She'd sensed something was off, but her focus had been entirely on keeping others safe. She hadn't considered the very real fact that she was also an extremely valuable target.
She'd brought bodyguards with her, yes—but when someone is plotting against you with intent and precision, it's hard not to fall into a trap.
If this ordeal had taught her anything, it was that she needed to always remember who she was now. She was no longer the person she once was, but a walking jackpot in the eyes of many opportunists.
She hadn't exchanged many words with her grandmother when she heard her grandfather's voice from behind.
"Laila. Into the study—with me."
She knew this was the real challenge of her return.
After handing little William over to Mr. Quentin, she stuck her tongue out playfully at Roy, then followed her grandfather into the study.
Oswald sat down behind his desk, face stern.
"Do you know what your mistake was this time?"
"I shouldn't have brought such a small team with me…" Laila stood with her head down like a schoolgirl being scolded.
He snorted. "Just that?"
Laila looked up, confused. Was there something else?