It wasn't just about walking away from the Republican Party he'd supported for decades—if the old man had to make a more drastic move, he would do it without so much as batting an eye.
And clearly, his move was effective. To keep such a heavyweight on their side, the Democratic Party immediately sprang into action. They were also more than happy to see their rivals floundering. After all, during election season, who wasn't scrambling to dig up dirt on the opposition? Now that they had the perfect excuse handed to them on a silver platter, why hold back?
"They're Turning a Blind Eye to Human Life," "Is America Ignoring Director Laila Moran's Disappearance?"—headlines condemning the inaction of the opposition flooded out of the Democratic-aligned media outlets.
In the past, the Moran media group would have jumped in to spin things, to shift the narrative back in their favor. But now, the old man was furious with them—accusing them of empty promises and no real action. Rather than helping, they were only adding fuel to the fire. He wouldn't be speaking up for them anymore.
Now the White House had a real headache on their hands.
With the Moran media empire fanning the flames, movie buffs and Laila's fans across the nation erupted in protest. Why hasn't she been rescued yet? No matter what demands are made, they should meet them! Everyone knew: since the invention of cinema, no director had ever achieved what she had.
Laila was truly born for film—a living legend. Everyone could see she would bring many more masterpieces into the world.
So, whatever the cost, they had to find Laila and bring her back. And not just bring her back—she had to return alive. A dead legend meant nothing.
The government's sluggish handling of the case completely infuriated those who cared about Laila.
If you can't get the job done, then maybe someone else should. The latest polls made it clear which way the wind was blowing. The two parties, once neck and neck, were now separated by a significant margin.
Even the Democrats hadn't expected this strategy to work so well. Laila's disappearance had handed them the upper hand. Unless the White House managed to rescue her within a very short timeframe—they were toast.
Sure, it was just a poll and not the outcome. But the drastic shift was enough to leave the sitting president in a cold sweat. He might be finishing out his eight-year term and stepping down, but they still wanted someone from their side to take his place. And now? A single Laila had erased all their hard work—and cost them the crucial backing of someone as influential as Moran!
"No matter what it takes, get her back!" The president slammed his desk in the White House.
Meanwhile, Laila was once again brought before Martin.
Her brief days of leisure had passed far too quickly. If she had the choice, she'd rather not see that ridiculous amateur again. She knew she should be afraid of him—after all, he had the power to kill her at any time. But his clueless rambling was so ridiculous, it took all her strength not to laugh out loud. Who had time to be scared?
"What do you think of this script?"
As soon as Laila stepped in, Martin tossed her a notebook.
"..." This had to be the most humble script Laila had ever seen. She opened the notebook to find pages densely packed with writing—it was a full script.
"I need to take a look." No matter how it was written, if it was a script, she was interested. Without glancing at anyone else in the room, she plopped down in a chair and began to read.
Several of Martin's men couldn't stand the sight of her. Acting so at home in front of the boss—wasn't that just a little too bold? Doing absolutely nothing all day and still being treated to gourmet food and comfort—wasn't she just a hostage? Did she have to be this arrogant?
But no matter how annoyed they were, they had no choice but to keep it to themselves. She was a hostage worth hundreds of billions—without the boss's order, no one dared lay a finger on her.
Laila, by now, had long forgotten she was in a den of criminals. All her attention was on the notebook in her hands. She never underestimated a script, whether it was scribbled in a rough notebook, on a chalkboard, or anything in between—a good story was a good story.
And this was a good story.
The more she read, the more surprised she became. If this got made into a movie, it might do quite well at the box office—and even pick up a few awards.
In short, it was a tale of betrayal and loyalty. The opening was a bit cliché—two handsome guys in college both chasing the same girl. In the end, neither won her heart and after graduation, they each returned to their home countries. But here came the twist: the two were enemies—one a professional assassin, the other an Interpol agent.
One day, the assassin was sent on a mission to another country—to assassinate a political figure. This target was seeking U.S. support to save his nation's people. The Interpol agent's team got wind of the plot and were deployed to protect the target—and, hopefully, catch the assassin.
Neither man knew the other's true identity. When they ran into each other by chance, it seemed like just that—a coincidence. But when the assassin made his move, the Interpol agent finally realized who he was. A chase ensued, leading them both off a cliff and into a ravine.
When they awoke, both were injured—and cut off from any way to contact the outside world. If they wanted to survive, they had to work together, setting aside their enmity.
And so, they teamed up.
From cautious probing to genuine cooperation, they went through plenty of touching and even humorous moments. But just as they were about to return to civilization, their conflicting loyalties returned. The emotional bond they had built shattered, and once again, they became enemies.
The story had to end with the good guy killing the bad guy—but was the "bad guy" really evil? For someone who had saved his life multiple times in the wilderness, the Interpol agent couldn't bring himself to call him a villain. And the guilt of killing his best friend would forever be a burden the assassin had to carry.
To be fair, the script had plenty of flaws—some plot holes, clunky transitions, and things that just didn't add up.
For instance, the college love triangle was boring and pointless. Laila couldn't see what value it added, except maybe giving the audience a female character—one who only existed in flashbacks—to make the movie feel a little less testosterone-heavy.
Then there was the shaky premise of the assassin-vs-agent setup. Would Interpol be tasked with protecting a foreign dignitary like that? And the high-speed chase on a narrow mountain road ending with both men miraculously surviving a crash? A little too convenient.