Upon seeing the wave of negative reviews flooding the media, Anthony—who had always closely followed Laila's career—immediately went to find his boss, Mr. Oswald.
"Shouldn't we do something about it? If we let those opinions spread unchecked, it's bound to hurt Miss Moran's film." After all, if one person after another claimed the movie was bad, who would still want to watch it? If this continued, even those who were initially curious would be driven away.
But Mr. Oswald simply shook his head. "No need."
Anthony was confused. "Why not? If those media outlets keep it up, Miss Laila's box office—"
"Have you seen the film?" Oswald asked calmly, looking straight at him.
"I have." How could he not? It was his future boss's new movie. He had naturally gone to see it right away—he'd have to help promote it later on through the group's media outlets. How could he do that without understanding the story?
"Since you've seen it, then tell me—what did you think of the movie?"
"Well…" Anthony furrowed his brow. "I'm no film expert, but I thought it was great."
The old man's meticulously trimmed mustache twitched ever so slightly, and a glint of undisguised pride flashed in his eyes. "I thought so too."
So then? Anthony stared at him eagerly, waiting for his follow-up. But Mr. Oswald didn't elaborate. He simply offered a meaningful, knowing smile.
"Don't worry. Leave it for now. Let word-of-mouth build a bit first—then we'll give it a push."
To be honest, Oswald's understanding of movies wasn't much better than the average person. He didn't care for overly complex or academic discussions—he watched films for entertainment. If it hadn't been directed by Laila, he wouldn't have bothered stepping into a theater.
He didn't have the vocabulary of a seasoned critic, but he did have taste. Whether a movie was good or bad—he knew it in his gut. Just because some critics said it was bad didn't mean it really was.
And most importantly, he didn't believe for a second that his granddaughter would fail.
That belief was built on years of firsthand observation and the unwavering support of countless others. The heir he had personally chosen could not possibly stumble at a hurdle like this.
Since she wouldn't fail, what was there to worry about?
A few critics weren't enough to sway the masses.
Oswald didn't have to wait long. That very afternoon, a new film review appeared on the Facebook account of a "famous film critic" named Cooper.
Though Cooper had been absent from the critic scene for a long time, he occasionally dropped short, insightful comments on trending films. His account still had plenty of loyal followers—cinephiles and film buffs who valued his opinion.
But this time was different. He didn't post a few sentences—he wrote an entire article. And most surprising of all? The tone of the article was completely unlike his usual style.
"I nearly died laughing reading those reviews this morning. So now, apparently, commercial directors aren't allowed to make films with artistic value? Then let me ask—what exactly is a commercial film? And what's an art film?
To me, those critics clearly use one metric to separate the two: money. Big budget and high box office = commercial. Low budget and low returns = art. I'd love to know where they get the nerve to make such ignorant claims."
"Questioning whether Laila Moran can make meaningful art films? Did they forget Chicago? Blood Diamond?
Claiming she failed because she tried to use commercial techniques for an art film? Did they forget The Lord of the Rings trilogy?"
"Why can't an art film be shot using commercial techniques? Why does it have to lose money to be considered 'art'?
In my decades in this industry, that's the funniest claim I've ever heard. Let me be very clear: A good movie is never measured by how much money it makes or loses."
At this point, everyone who knew about the long-standing grudge between Cooper and Laila was absolutely floored.
Who would've thought that Cooper, once the founding member of the Anti-Laila Alliance, would speak out so boldly in her defense?
And the best part? His arguments made a lot of sense.
Who said art films couldn't use commercial storytelling techniques?
Why must they be doomed to financial failure to be considered meaningful?
If art films couldn't make a cent, who would still have the courage to keep making them?
People watch movies for all kinds of reasons. Some just want to kill time and be entertained. Others want to be moved—to see something greater through the lens of cinema.
But they don't wait until they know the box office numbers to decide whether they should like a film.
In his article, Cooper ruthlessly blasted the critics who had trashed Laila's movie, line by line. His piece was filled with sarcasm and scorn for their shallow takes—and Laila's fans, stunned and delighted, couldn't stop cheering him on.
Who could've imagined he'd speak up for Laila?
Even if some kind of divine miracle had occurred, it wouldn't have shocked them as much as this.
Some speculated that the Moran family had finally paid him off.
Others guessed that Laila had dirt on him—some kind of blackmail.
Only a tiny fraction still clung to the belief that Cooper was a righteous man speaking truth in defense of art.
There were so few people who believed that, in fact, that the rest of the internet decided to leave them alone—let them keep their pure hearts and blissful ignorance.
Mr. Oswald soon received word that Cooper had come out in support of Laila. After scanning the article and finding no problematic statements, he tossed it aside without another thought.
What no one knew was that the real reason Cooper changed sides was exactly what some had guessed—he had indeed received a "favor" from the Moran family.
Only… it wasn't money or benefits. It was safety.
Because just recently, Faaris and his company had officially declared bankruptcy, and Faaris himself had been deported.
Given Faaris's abilities, had he not obsessed over trying to outdo Laila in the film world, he actually had a decent head for business. But his hatred blinded him, and he charged headfirst into a fight he was never going to win.
The result?
He lost—so thoroughly that even he couldn't explain how it happened.
His bankruptcy and deportation were undoubtedly orchestrated by Mr. Oswald. No one could harm his precious granddaughter and expect to live out their days in peace and prosperity.
Now that Faaris had been kicked out of the United States, it meant he no longer posed a threat to anyone. That was when Cooper, who had been lying low in fear, finally dared to return home. After a few weeks of observing the situation, he finally relaxed, convinced that he had escaped Faaris's reach for good.
But what truly gave him the courage to bring his wife and children back home… was a letter.
No words. No return address.
Just a newspaper clipping.
A report of a plane crash in the desert.
And the crashed plane?
It was the one carrying Faaris and his associates.