The wave of doubt began with a post on a major website. Titled "Maybe She's Not That Great After All," the author laid out Laila's top-grossing films to argue their point.
"So far, Director Moran's highest-grossing film is The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, which made $1.6 billion. At the time, many were hoping it would break the all-time box office record and become the new number one. Unfortunately, it fell short by $200 million compared to Titanic."
"Now, $200 million might not sound like much, but when you try to cross that gap, it's more like a massive chasm. This summer, The Dark Knight stormed past the competition and made $1.4 billion, setting a new benchmark for superhero films. Everyone is going on about how incredible Director Moran is—but is she all that amazing?"
"Sure, I won't deny her films are profitable, popular, even iconic. But honestly, I think she's being overhyped. Think about it—she's only 27. There are still directors far greater than her out there. Why is it that James Cameron, who held the top box office record for over a decade, doesn't get the same constant praise? Probably because he doesn't have a media empire propping him up."
The post was slickly written and seemed convincing at first glance. It led many readers to follow its train of thought: Yeah, Laila hasn't even broken Titanic's record—shouldn't we be calling James Cameron the living legend of Hollywood instead?
Cameron, after all, rarely appeared in the news unless he was promoting a film. Meanwhile, Laila was constantly in the headlines, featured across major media outlets.
The post ended with a veiled accusation that her fame was manufactured by her family's own media group—Moran Media. It claimed her acclaim was artificially inflated by her inner circle, a notion that found some support among readers. As the post argued, no matter how talented a director was, without media coverage, they wouldn't be half as famous as she was.
After all, she was "just" a director—someone who stood behind the camera, traditionally far from the spotlight. And yet, she enjoyed more media attention than top-tier celebrities.
Just look at this year alone. Her kidnapping incident alone was reported on for over two weeks. And that ring Roy gave her? That too dominated headlines. Celebrities might go through breakups, makeups, scandals, pregnancies, proposals, divorces—you name it—and still not get as much coverage as Laila.
It was indeed strange, and this strangeness led some people to accept the post's argument.
Laila read the article through a press clipping that Demi had compiled for her. Curious, she went online to find the original post.
By then, it had become one of the site's top trending threads, pinned right at the top in bold font like it was begging for attention.
After reading it, Laila had only one reaction: how boring.
Noticing Demi watching her with a worried expression, Laila couldn't help but chuckle. "Haven't we heard worse things than this before? Why would I care about something like this?"
"You can't just brush it off like that, Boss!" Demi protested. "Ever since Cooper disappeared and The New York Post got bought out, we've barely seen any of those kinds of slanderous articles. I think someone's pulling strings behind the scenes!"
Demi always admired how calm her boss could be. How was it that these kinds of attacks didn't seem to faze her at all?
Did Laila care? Honestly, not much.
At first, back when she still felt somewhat like an outsider to this world, she didn't care because she felt removed from it. It was as if there was a barrier between her and everything around her. Later, as she gradually accepted and adapted to this life, those words only lost more and more of their power to hurt her.
With her growing achievements in film and her career steadily climbing toward the peak, why would she waste energy on baseless smears?
Back in her previous life, she'd been called much worse. Compared to that, this was child's play.
More importantly, she valued results—box office numbers were what mattered. Sometimes she would intentionally stir up controversy just to generate publicity. No buzz, no attention—how else were people supposed to know a new movie was coming?
"I wouldn't say I don't care at all," Laila said after a pause, giving an answer that felt true to her. "I just believe overwhelming strength can crush any scheming or slander. They can spin whatever narrative they want, stir up whoever they like—but facts are facts. They can't be changed. If I can outclass them in every way, why should I let their words ruin my mood?"
"…You always make so much sense," Demi said, conceding with a small sigh. She knew she couldn't win an argument with her boss, so she wisely dropped the topic. "Speaking of which, it's been years since we've heard from Cooper, hasn't it? He used to go against you constantly."
Just then, a voice called from the open door.
"Cooper? I heard he's working as a consultant for a company now." It was Louise, stepping inside. In Hollywood, her network was nearly unbeatable—often faster and more accurate than the press.
Laila raised an eyebrow. "Consultant? What could he possibly advise people on?"
"You might not have noticed," Louise said, "but over the past two years, several award-winning films have had backing from the company he's with. Just through those investments, the company made a hefty profit."
She named a few films—ones Laila remembered. Several had won big at the Oscars.
"He's turned over a new leaf?" Laila said, genuinely skeptical.
Just thinking back to that post—the tone, the phrasing, the rhetorical habits—suddenly made sense. She hadn't realized at first, but once Cooper's name came up, it clicked. Those linguistic patterns were unmistakable.
Using half-truths and clever distortions to mislead people… that had always been Cooper's favorite trick.
So, the New York Post getting bought out must've hit him hard. Without a media platform backing him like before, he could only vent his bitterness through anonymous posts online.