Chapter 891: It's Time to Begin

Oswald looked at his proud granddaughter and let out a soft sigh.

What an outstanding heir—why was she so determined to pursue filmmaking?

Of course, deep down, he understood. While Dragon Soul and Phoenix might not compare to the scale of Moran Group, their profitability easily surpassed his own company.

Take The Lord of the Rings trilogy, for instance—it raked in over $4 billion. After deducting costs, marketing expenses, and theatre cuts, at least $1–2 billion in pure profit went straight into her pocket.

And that was just her films. Her company had other directors working on different projects. Even if each film only brought in $10 million in profit, the cumulative total was still staggering.

By now, no one dared to underestimate Laila simply because she was a young woman. No one attributed her achievements to her last name. Everyone knew her success was hard-earned, built entirely on her efforts, independent of her family.

Of course, it wasn't entirely without the Moran family's influence. When it came to promotion, she did rely on some family connections. But even that wasn't a one-sided favor—Moran's media empire benefited just as much.

For example, regarding exclusive interviews, Moran-owned media outlets always had first access. And NBC? The moment they announced Laila's appearance, they could count on skyrocketing viewership and top-tier advertisers scrambling for spots.

So in reality, it wasn't a matter of her taking advantage of the Moran family's media—it was a mutually beneficial partnership.

Watching Laila walk out of the study with a light, unburdened step, Oswald sighed again—this time, even louder.

This had been a test. A challenge he had set for Laila. And that honest, straightforward girl hadn't even realized it. Not only had she completed every grueling task he assigned, but she had done so far beyond his expectations.

Even if she had taken three years to accomplish everything, it would have been a pleasant surprise. But she had done it all in just a few months.

Though he hadn't been at the company recently, he still received regular updates. Aside from some senior advisors complaining to him in hopes that he would intervene, there were also reports from the informants he had placed to keep an eye on her progress.

Not because he didn't trust her—this was about responsibility.

A corporation of this magnitude, with so many people depending on it, couldn't be handed over like a game token to someone with no experience. His original plan had been to let Laila think she was in full control while his appointed people secretly continued executing existing strategies.

But what he hadn't expected was that the challenges he had designed to test her abilities had been cleared effortlessly—like a final boss watching the protagonist steamroll through without even needing to level up.

And that was a good thing.

If not for her passion for filmmaking, he would have handed her the CEO position already and retired to enjoy life.

But his granddaughter had an unshakable love for cinema.

He was well aware of the sacrifices she had made. He knew that Roy had even turned down numerous engagements just to stay by her side and ensure she took care of herself.

At one point, when he heard how much Laila was overworking herself, he had considered returning. But after seeing Roy take care of her in his assistant role, he had extended his break by a few more months.

With both pride and heartache, Oswald continued reviewing company documents. Meanwhile, Laila finally returned to Hollywood, a place she had been away from for far too long.

After sorting through her company's affairs, she began preparing for the upcoming awards season.

After all, even the finest wine needed proper promotion.

No matter how good a film was, if people didn't know about it, how could they be expected to vote for it?

Take the Oscars, for example. Thousands of judges voted each year, but with so many films in contention, how many of them could honestly say they had watched every nominated film?

So how did those judges make their decisions?

By choosing films they had heard about. Or movies that looked profound and important.

In Laila's view, the key was to guide the media narrative—ensuring that the judges noticed her film, but without making them feel like they were being manipulated.

Nobody believed The Lord of the Rings would walk away empty-handed this awards season.

With the second-highest box office revenue in film history and an overwhelmingly positive reception, the momentum was already there. All that was left was to make a few strategic moves and maintain control over the media discourse.

Once she had set everything in motion, she finally met up with Leonardo.

"Can we start now?"

Leonardo had already heard about her return from Roy. The moment her call came through, he was practically already on his way.

"Yes," Laila said, placing a script in front of him. "I think we can start planning now. Here are some of my suggestions—take them to the screenwriters for further discussion."

Leonardo opened the script and saw notes densely packed into the margins—edits, observations, and recommendations.

He knew how busy Laila had been. Yet judging by the level of detail in this script, it was hard to believe it had been worked on by someone whose schedule was packed to the brim.

After all, analyzing and refining a script wasn't just about jotting down a few comments. It required deep study—understanding its structure, themes, and nuances. It was a meticulous process.

Yet here she was, presenting him with a fully annotated version.

"How did you even do this?" Leonardo asked in disbelief. "Roy told me how insane your schedule was. I was expecting to wait months before you'd have time for this."

Laila shrugged. "I couldn't help myself. When I see a good script, I just have to dive into it. And then, well… this happened."

As for how much sleep she had sacrificed to make this happen? Only God knew.

Luckily, Roy had been busy with Pirates of the Caribbean 4—otherwise, sneaking in time to finish the script would have been nearly impossible. That guy had been watching her like a hawk.

Sure, thanks to him, her health had remained in decent shape, but those days under his strict supervision had been absolute hell. She didn't even want to think about them.

For someone used to staying up until one or two in the morning, being forced to follow an 11 p.m. bedtime schedule was pure torture.

God only knew how long it had taken her to finally adjust.