Laila wasn't one for socializing. Most of the time, if a film company needed her entertaining, she'd send Louise in her place. But she wasn't just a director—she was also the heir to the Moran family. That meant there were some occasions she simply couldn't avoid.
Take banquets, for instance—official, private, you name it. Old Mr. Oswald loved bringing his granddaughter along to these events, if only to show her off—"Look how outstanding my successor is." Compared to his disappointing daughter Janet, he was far more satisfied with Laila.
To him, a successful life wasn't just about building a career, but also about building a family. Janet couldn't even choose a decent husband, so how could she be expected to achieve anything significant? As the old Eastern saying goes: "Cultivate oneself, manage the family, govern the state, bring peace to the world." If you couldn't even manage a family, how could you govern a state—or run a company, for that matter?
As much as it sounded old-fashioned, the old man had a point. What made Laila so impressive in his eyes wasn't just her career—it was that she'd also secured a good man and built a happy family. That, too, he saw as one of her accomplishments.
What Oswald couldn't stand most were those celebrities who treated divorce like a hobby. They'd claim it was "true love" while having fun, and then move on to the next "true love" once they got bored. Sure, it all looked free and easy—but what about when they looked back at the end of their lives?
So whenever Oswald saw his old associates dealing with chaos at home because of women or kids, he felt a wicked satisfaction—and he loved parading his granddaughter in front of them.
Funny thing was, back when Laila ran into danger in South Africa, the old man had gone to the president himself to ask for help. But the way things were handled infuriated him—lots of nodding, no action. After dragging things out with no result, Oswald got fed up and switched allegiances—throwing his support behind the ruling party's rival.
When Laila found out, she was stunned. Because in that very year, history had indeed changed course—the rival party won, and America saw its first Black president take office. Oswald's involvement had unexpectedly helped smooth the path.
They say it's easy to add flowers to a bouquet, but rare to deliver coal in a snowstorm. His sudden shift of allegiance became a shrewd political investment, and earned him substantial returns afterward—something even he probably hadn't anticipated. All Laila could do was marvel at her grandfather's incredible luck.
Not long after returning from Golden Island, Laila was dragged by the old man to attend a social gathering, where she ran into quite a few familiar faces. In that kind of setting, bumping into acquaintances was normal. But one of those people made things a little awkward: someone from Warner Bros., a company she had previously collaborated with.
Thanks to Christopher Nolan, they'd worked together on The Dark Knight and made a tidy profit. Nolan, now under Laila's company, was gearing up to film the third Batman installment, The Dark Knight Rises. It wouldn't be long before it hit the big screen.
So why was it awkward? Because Warner Bros. had another superhero film lined up for next summer—Green Lantern.
And not only that—they scheduled it for June, the very same month Laila had picked for her new film's release.
Sure, Warner had moved it two weeks earlier to dodge a direct clash with Laila's release—but critics and analysts alike were saying they'd chosen the wrong time slot.
A two-week buffer might avoid the peak days of Laila's box office surge, but after that, The Avengers would start dominating—and Green Lantern's ticket sales would inevitably take a hit. The most baffling part? Laila's film was also a superhero flick. So were they trying to sabotage their own box office, or were they deliberately trying to undermine Laila?
Laila's Avengers had already been widely marketed as a massive superhero ensemble. Releasing a solo superhero film just before hers—well, the nice word for that was "competition." The not-so-nice word? Sabotage. Who knew if audiences, after watching Green Lantern, would end up losing interest in The Avengers because of superhero fatigue?
It's like eating the same food two days in a row. Even if it's your favorite dish, by the second day, it won't taste quite as exciting. And not everyone had the budget to watch every movie they wanted. Some broke college kid with just enough for one ticket would end up choosing between two similar films.
So yeah—saying Warner Bros. was trying to undercut Laila? Not a stretch.
Purely in terms of comic book clout, Green Lantern was a heavyweight. What made him cool was that most of his stories took place outside of Earth. People loved that kind of thing—exploring alien worlds, facing intergalactic villains!
With a halfway decent script and director, the movie could easily do well. And that would, inevitably, impact The Avengers. Don't forget, Laila had boldly declared before filming even started that she would break Avatar's box office record.
Pulling a stunt like this now—especially from a former partner—was just… hard to justify.
At the party, when Laila spotted the Warner exec, she wanted to pretend she didn't know him. That way, neither side had to suffer the awkwardness. But the gods weren't listening—because the one person she wanted to avoid came walking over, smiling from ear to ear.
"Director Moran, looks like we'll be rivals this summer!"
"..."
Laila stared at that cheerful face and had to exert real effort not to let her sarcasm slip out. What was going on in this guy's head? Did he even get what the word "rivals" meant?
"Looks like your company has a lot of faith in Green Lantern," she said dryly.
She was just being polite—but the man took her words at face value.
"Absolutely. We're confident about this film. And we owe you a thank-you, Director Moran—for paving the way with your superhero hits."
Laila let out a dry "heh heh," wondering just how much longer she had to suffer through this awkward exchange. Could she just wave her sleeve, walk away, and pretend she'd never been there?