Chapter 1023 - Excited Reporters

Flander smiled faintly. "I think you already know what you should do."

Martin clenched his teeth. "You have to swear you won't harm him! If anything happens to my son, I'll take you down with me—even if it means dying together!"

Flander gave a noncommittal nod. "As long as you surrender, I promise not to harm them—mother or child."

At this point, Martin had no choice. He tossed his gun to the ground, signaling his submission.

Only then did Flander turn his gaze toward the direction the helicopter had disappeared, the corners of his lips curling into a quiet smile.

What he didn't say was… he hadn't captured the child at all. He didn't even know where the boy was. The shirt he had used to bluff Martin? That was something he'd stolen during a house call when the boy was sick—not a plan at the time, just a whim. Who knew it would come in so handy now?

And it had worked out perfectly thanks to Dong-ge and the others jamming all signals—cut off from the outside world, Martin's mind was a mess the moment he saw that shirt. How could he have possibly thought straight?

Meanwhile, aboard the helicopter, Laila leaned half against Roy, watching the flames still visible at the foot of the mountain with deep emotion. "We're finally going home."

"Mhm," Roy said, holding her hand. "Once we're back, take a good long rest. Janet and your grandparents must be dying to see you."

Laila sat up suddenly, startled. "Back? Back to the States?"

"Where else?" Roy asked, suddenly feeling a bad premonition.

"Back to set, of course! I haven't finished filming yet, remember?" Laila gave him a look like how could you forget something so basic?

Roy glared at her. "You just escaped from a life-threatening situation!" Was this a joke? Anyone else who had gone through what she had would be headed straight home for rest and probably trauma counseling. And she wanted to go back to work?

Laila's eyes widened in disbelief. "Do you even know how much budget the production burns through each day? Forget the cost of security—the crew alone is a massive expense. You think we can pack up, go home, wait for me to recover, and then fly back again?"

Roy was speechless. "Since when do you care about money?" Sure, it was a huge cost, and returning later would be expensive. But this was Laila! Compared to her safety, the money meant nothing.

"Of course, I care about money!" Laila said proudly. "It's so satisfying to make money off every movie. Isn't that a kind of achievement too?" What kind of fairy did he think she was? Who didn't like the money?

Roy pressed his fingers to his temples. "Laila, please… sweetie, I'll cover all the extra costs—just go back to the States and rest, okay?" He was wealthy enough to afford it. That wasn't the issue.

Laila rolled her eyes. "What's going on in that brain of yours? There's barely a week left of filming. Why waste all that time waiting? I still want to submit this for next year's Oscars. If we delay even a month, there won't be enough time for post-production!"

"The Oscars happen every year! Just give the others a shot this time, can't you?"

"…You realize that if the other films heard that, they'd cry."

Roy was about ready to knock on her skull and see what was rattling around in there. Was her sense of priorities this off?

As the two argued, everyone around them wore identical expressions of disbelief.

With the noise from the helicopter, they practically had to yell to hear each other. After everything they'd just gone through, everyone was exhausted—and yet these two still had the energy to bicker.

And just like that, the helicopter landed beside the military camp stationed near the film crew.

All kinds of officials and personnel had been waiting there, tipped off in advance. When they saw Laila and Roy step out of the helicopter, the crowd broke into excited applause.

To them, this was a massive success. No casualties, no large-scale violence, and no diplomatic fallout—about as perfect a rescue as they could've hoped for.

If Laila and Roy knew that's how these people were thinking, they'd probably spit at them in disgust. Rescue? Please. Besides sending a helicopter, what else did they do? At least Xiao Ye's mercs had sent people in to help. What did the rest of them do? Laila honestly had no idea.

Still, since they were safe now, Laila wasn't about to quibble over credit.

As soon as the film crew spotted them, they rushed over, eager to greet and check on them. But before they could reach them, an even more aggressive group had already shoved past.

"Director Moran, do you have any comments about what happened?"

"Can you tell us what you experienced during the kidnapping?"

"Will this incident lead to the cancellation of your film?"

Wielding cameras like weapons and eyes gleaming red, the reporters charged in like a pack of starving wolves who had just spotted a soft, juicy lamb. That's right—it was the press.

Laila had always been a media darling. Even her most mundane street photos could light up the internet.

Since her disappearance, fans everywhere have been praying for her safety. Even those who weren't fans joined in vigils and campaigns, hoping for her safe return.

So the moment she went missing, reporters had swarmed in from all directions, desperate for first-hand scoops. And thanks to their persistence, the outside world was able to stay relatively informed.

…Not that those reports were always accurate. With no real updates from Laila herself and all internal discussions kept tightly under wraps, most of the info being published was speculative at best. If anyone had leaked the truth, the media would've written exposés that stripped every secret bare.

"Back up, all of you! Step back!" Several armed soldiers immediately stepped forward to block the reporters. After all the effort it took to get Laila out safely, they weren't about to let her fall into danger again—not while they still didn't know if the area was completely secure. Who knew if one of those reporters had malicious intentions?

Most of the journalists were used to covering entertainment stories and didn't have much experience dealing with foreign militaries. So when the soldiers raised their weapons, they didn't take it seriously. If this had happened back home, they'd already be writing scathing editorials to tear the military apart.

What they forgot was—they weren't in a country that prided itself on freedom of the press. This wasn't the United States. This was a place still wrestling with instability. And those weren't American soldiers—they were South African troops, and some of the most elite in the country after the last batch was purged for harboring traitors.