"Mr. Martin, are you saying you want to invest in a film?" She gave a feigned look of realization and smiled. "Of course, there's no problem with that. The budget for our current production, 'Blood Diamond', is one hundred million U.S. dollars. I wonder how much you're planning to contribute?"
"One hundred million?" Martin's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He had to use all his strength to stop himself from losing composure in front of his men. Was this woman joking? If he had a hundred million dollars, would he still be risking his life in this tiny country, living on the edge? He'd have long since taken the money and gone to live the high life abroad!
Laila was sitting directly across from him and caught that fleeting moment of shock. That was all she needed to confirm that this man was a complete outsider with zero knowledge of the film industry. He'd gotten jealous after seeing how much money movies could make and thought he could just jump in for a slice of the pie. If it were that easy to get rich, directors would've become the world's most sought-after investment targets a long time ago.
"That's right." She sighed lightly. "At first we thought a hundred million would be enough, but now it looks like we're still short about fifty million. If you're interested in investing, Mr. Martin, then that would be wonderful."
Martin's mouth twitched. He didn't have fifty million either! He had already spent a fortune bribing officials to protect that diamond mine of his. But luck hadn't been on his side—most of the rough stones dug up were of poor quality, and the one rare blue diamond that was worth something got stolen by one of his men and sold off to someone else. Now? Forget fifty million—even five million was out of the question!
He didn't need to turn around to know that his subordinates were probably already laughing at his foolish delusions. Furious and humiliated, he shot up from his chair and stormed toward Laila, brandishing a dagger in front of her face.
"Director Moran, I think you're misunderstanding something. I didn't bring you here to lecture me—I brought you here to work for me. I'm sorry, but your current film is finished. From now on, your only job is to make movies for me. Movies that make me money!"
The gleaming blade danced threateningly before her eyes, making it clear just how sharp it was. But Laila's ice-blue eyes glinted with a cold light of their own, though all that sharpness was hidden beneath her lowered lashes.
The tenser the situation, the calmer she became. Many people had said she was too rational, and she used to feel helpless about that part of herself. But at this moment, she was deeply grateful for it.
Only by staying calm could she figure out a way to survive.
"Mr. Martin, I think you might be the one misunderstanding something. Making a movie isn't as simple as just saying you want to do it. First, you need a good script. Then, enough funding. After that, you need an entire crew—makeup artists, set designers, lighting techs, production assistants... Even if you manage to shoot the film, you still need an editor to cut it together, and then post-production with music, dubbing, and visual effects. And after all of that, you need to find a distributor, negotiate release contracts with theater chains..."
Martin's expression grew darker with every word. It felt like a flock of noisy sparrows had invaded his head, chirping nonstop and driving him crazy. How the hell was he supposed to know that making money from a movie was this complicated?
That was exactly the effect Laila had been going for. The things he had said just now—only a complete outsider would say them. Even an average person on the street knew how difficult it was to make a movie from start to finish. So she deliberately made her explanation even more technical, hoping to discourage him from his ridiculous, unrealistic fantasy.
Martin's face was now shifting unpredictably, a mess of conflicting thoughts. He didn't know whether the hundred million—or the fifty million—she had mentioned was real. But this woman was in his hands. He could take her life anytime he wanted. Would a woman in that position lie to him?
Just then, someone leaned in close and whispered something into Martin's ear.
Martin's face instantly darkened, a vicious glint appearing in his eyes as he stared at Laila. "Director Moran, I consider myself a civilized man and I prefer civilized conversations. But if you insist on treating me like a fool and refusing to cooperate... then I'm not opposed to using more uncivilized methods. I'm sure you don't want it to come to that, do you?"
Laila's eyes narrowed slightly as she shifted her gaze toward the man who had just whispered to Martin. He looked to be in his thirties, wearing glasses and a crisp white shirt—far more like a corporate professional than a member of a criminal gang.
But judging by the interaction just now, this man held considerable sway by Martin's side. Most likely, he was the brains behind the operation—the classic scheming advisor.
A man like this was far more dangerous than the greedy, hotheaded Martin. And that told Laila she'd have to revise the plan she had just come up with.
Honestly, she would rather deal with a gun-toting brute than a clever man with a plan.
"Mr. Martin, I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Laila said in a deliberately timid tone, trying to appear more fearful to lower their guard. After all, that was the reaction they expected from someone in her situation. If she kept acting calm and composed, it would only make them more suspicious of her.
No one present had expected a young woman, kidnapped and held at gunpoint, to remain this composed. Few women could even manage to speak fluently under such conditions.
Martin sneered. "I heard Director Moran made her debut film for just a hundred thousand dollars, and it grossed over three hundred million at the box office, isn't that right?" A hundred grand was money he could afford. If a hundred thousand could earn three hundred million, then shooting a few more films would make him rich!
Laila immediately understood what he meant—and it only deepened her inner contempt for his ignorance.
"That's true," she said calmly. "But that was a special case. If it were that easy to earn box office revenue, do you think I'd be spending hundreds of millions to make movies now?"
Martin thought about it and realized she had a point. If a hundred grand could make three hundred million, who in their right mind would spend a hundred million? That kind of money could make dozens of films! Wouldn't that earn even more?
What Laila had done was subtly shift the logic. Sure, you could make three hundred million from a hundred thousand—but with a hundred million, you could make over a billion. No matter how talented she was, she was still just one person. Even if she worked nonstop, she couldn't churn out that many films in a year. Given the same amount of time, commercial blockbusters with big budgets always made more money.
But just then, she saw that damn scheming advisor whispering into Martin's ear again.
She couldn't hear what he was saying, but she could tell it was having an effect.