Roy wanted to go search for Laila on his own, but he was stuck with the same problem as everyone else—he had no idea where to start.
"What kind of people would go after Laila?" That was the thing he just couldn't wrap his head around.
If it was for ransom, then kidnapping her wouldn't be surprising—after all, her wealth was no secret. But judging from the perpetrator's behavior, that didn't seem to be the case.
So what exactly was their goal? Kidnapping someone that anyone with half a brain would know better than to mess with—what, were they just looking for a thrill? Trying to prove something?
Leonardo was just as anxious—not only for Laila but also for his friend.
"Roy, man, you haven't eaten in over a day. Haven't even rested. If you keep this up, Laila's not going to see a rescue—she's going to come back and find you collapsed. Is that what you want?"
He knew exactly how deep Roy's feelings for Laila ran. The guy once gave him a black eye just for making her mad—of course, he'd be falling apart in a real crisis like this. Leonardo could see Roy's heart was a mess, and he was worried. How much longer could he hold out like this?
"I'm fine," Roy waved him off.
He didn't know if Laila had anything to eat or if she was able to rest. How could he possibly eat or sleep knowing that?
"Just imagining her surrounded by a bunch of vicious thugs, being threatened, coerced—I just…"
Roy felt like he was losing his mind. His heart trembled, his hands shook. He couldn't even hold his coffee cup steadily. If he had a gun right now, he'd probably unload it into the sky just to vent the chaos in his chest.
Laila… Laila!
How the hell was he supposed to find her?
Leonardo watched Roy slowly crumble, as though his soul had left his body. The pain hit him too. Is this what it feels like to truly love someone? Would there ever be someone who could love him as Laila and Roy loved each other? Maybe it was time for him to stop playing around and look for something real.
In truth, Laila wasn't in as terrible a situation as Roy feared—in fact, she was arguably faring better than he was.
Meal times were regular. Someone would open the iron door and deliver a tray of local food—plentiful, even if unfamiliar.
Laila was not the type to wallow in self-pity. She knew that, especially in times like these, maintaining her strength was crucial. So even if the food didn't suit her palate, she still made herself eat it. She didn't think the food was poisoned either. If they meant to kill her, they wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of dragging her here and feeding her. They'd have just dumped her unconscious body into the woods and let the animals take care of it.
After she'd finished her third meal, the iron door opened again.
But this time, someone stepped in—not just to collect the tray, but a man with a thin mustache and a scar running from the corner of his mouth to his earlobe.
"Hello, Director Moran," he greeted her.
Laila looked him up and down. From the way he carried himself—so full of self-importance and confidence—it was obvious. This was the mastermind behind her abduction.
"And you are?" she asked.
"You can call me Martin," the man replied, settling comfortably into a chair one of his men brought in. He lit a cigar, placing it between his lips with the air of a man very pleased with himself.
"Sorry for the rough invitation. But let's be honest—under normal circumstances, it'd be pretty hard to meet you, wouldn't it?"
Laila gave him a polite nod. "True enough. Under normal circumstances, you'd have to go through my assistant, schedule something in advance, and work around my calendar."
Of course, it wasn't like just anyone could meet her. If everyone who wanted to see her got a face-to-face meeting, she wouldn't have a single minute to herself all year. But that wasn't something she was going to say aloud. Provoking a kidnapper wasn't the smartest move.
"See what I mean?" Martin shrugged, feigning gentlemanly charm. "Meeting you is no easy feat. But fortunately, I finally managed to bring you here."
Laila's eyes narrowed slightly. Finally?
That word said everything—this hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment crime. This had been planned. Which meant she had been the intended target from the very beginning.
But why? What did she have that this man wanted?
Her looks? Don't be ridiculous. Even Leonardo could walk into a bar and come out with a runway model. If this guy wanted beauty, he wouldn't need to go through the trouble of kidnapping someone like her—a high-profile public figure with security and status.
"How much do you want?"
It was the only thing she could think of that he might be after.
Martin let out a low chuckle. "I'm a greedy man."
Good, Laila thought. Greed is good.
She was more than happy to deal with a greedy man. That meant he wanted something. Which meant, for now, her life wasn't in danger.
"How much would it take to satisfy you?" she asked cautiously.
Martin pulled a knife from his belt and began to twirl it casually between his fingers. His gaze was sharp, his smile unsettling.
"All of it," he said.
Laila's pupils contracted slightly. She almost wanted to laugh. Did he even know how much money she had?
This was exactly why she hated dealing with amateurs. You don't even research your target's financials before pulling a kidnapping? What kind of clown show was this?
"Heh." She gave a light chuckle, though her mind was racing.
Now wasn't the time to think about escape. She wasn't about to gamble with her life. She also knew that by now, plenty of people were looking for her. Her job was simple: stall this unprofessional, overconfident idiot long enough to be rescued—preferably with all limbs intact.
"Mr. Martin, I'm not quite sure what you mean," she said, feigning confusion.
Martin spun the knife deftly in his hand and smiled. "I've heard Director Moran is a master of the box office. Any film she touches makes hundreds of millions, even billions. And as it happens… I'm quite interested in movies myself. I thought—why not collaborate?"
Laila was stunned speechless.
Collaborate?
With you?
Who the hell do you think you are?
Now she got it. He wanted her to make him a movie. One that would rake in a billion dollars at the box office.
Did he even understand how the industry worked? That box office revenue didn't equal profit? Even if a film made a billion, as director and studio head, she'd barely see half of it. And he thought the whole pot would just land in his lap?