The next day, filming resumed.
Laila had always considered herself a very open-minded director. As long as the film turned out well, she didn't care what the crew did in their free time. That's why she hadn't objected when Leonardo brought his new girlfriend to the set—she'd simply let him handle his affairs.
But she soon realized she'd made a mistake. Blood Diamond was a dark film, that explored humanity's original sin in the pursuit of diamonds. So how could an actor, currently basking in the glow of new love, possibly convey that kind of grim despair?
"CUT!"
After the Nth take, Laila could no longer contain the fury burning inside her. "Leonardo DiCaprio, what the hell are you even doing?!"
The entire crew flinched. They knew all too well that when the boss addressed someone by their full name, it usually meant an explosion was imminent.
Leonardo's expression darkened. In all his years of acting, he'd never been called out this many times in a single day. Just when things had started going smoothly, they'd derailed again. Was she really not holding some kind of grudge against him?
"What's the problem, Director?" Fortunately, he remembered his promise not to challenge her authority in front of the crew, so he suppressed his anger instead of lashing out.
Laila knew he was pissed—but so was she.
"Come here and see for yourself!" She motioned him over to the monitor and replayed the last take.
"Look at your expression. Are you grieving? Are you furious? No—you're practically radiating happiness!"
Leonardo frowned at the screen. Honestly, he didn't see any trace of this so-called "happiness" she was talking about. But he had been thinking about Bar during the scene. Still, how the hell could she tell just from the footage?
"I wasn't—" He wanted to argue, but the words died in his throat. Any ordinary director—or even an untrained eye—wouldn't have noticed anything off about his performance. Yet she'd not only spotted it but laid it bare in front of him.
"You weren't what?" Laila jabbed a finger at the screen. "Swear to me you weren't thinking about your girlfriend while filming!"
Leonardo fell silent. Arguing now would only make him look worse.
"Sorry," he muttered, lowering his head. "I got distracted."
Laila scoffed. "Stop complaining about not winning awards. With this attitude, you won't get one for another decade. You're a professional actor, but I'm not seeing any professionalism here. Leo, you're a disappointment."
His face went pale. Once again, she'd struck his weakest spot.
"I already apologized!" His temper flared despite his efforts to hold it back.
He wasn't the type to dismiss criticism, but being dressed down like this in front of his girlfriend? What man could tolerate that? In Bar's eyes, he was flawless—now she'd seen him humiliated. His pride was wounded.
If he couldn't control his anger, neither could Laila.
But beneath the fury was a deeper sense of disappointment. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe the current Leonardo, still playing the field, lacked the life experience needed for this role. She'd won too many awards, grown too complacent, and arrogantly assumed she could mold him into something greater.
"Your apology means nothing to me. You wasted everyone's time." She turned to the crew. "That's a wrap for today. Pack up."
Even if they kept filming now, she wouldn't get what she wanted. Maybe this incident would fuel the anger his character needed—but she wasn't after something that shallow. She wanted pure acting. Perfect shots.
The crew exchanged uneasy glances but didn't dare argue. They'd seen her angry before, even heard her sarcastic jabs—but this level of disappointment was rare. As they packed up, they glanced at Leonardo, still rooted in place, and sighed inwardly. Countless actors would give anything for Laila's guidance, yet here he was, squandering the opportunity.
As Laila's retreating figure grew smaller, regret welled up in Leonardo's chest. Deep down, he knew she was trying to help him—but he couldn't stand being embarrassed like that in front of Bar.
He wanted to chase after her and apologize, but then Bar approached, and his feet stayed planted.
"Leo, what happened? The director seemed… upset." "Upset" was an understatement. She'd seen the anger, the disappointment in Laila's departure. Had filming gone badly?
Leonardo buried his face in her shoulder. "I think I messed up…"
While he confided in his girlfriend, Laila was venting to Roy.
"I'm disappointed, Roy. Really disappointed." She slumped on the couch, her expression listless—like a fish washed ashore and left to bake in the sun.
"I thought I could change him, but I was just being arrogant. Maybe all my success has made me cocky." How had she forgotten she was human, not some god who could force maturity onto others?
Roy's heart ached as he pulled her into his arms. "You've done your best. This isn't your fault."
Laila clung to him like a koala. In her past life, she'd weathered far worse storms alone. Why was she so easily discouraged now?
Maybe being spoiled has made me soft.
Compared to the loneliness of her past life, she was undeniably happy now. Heaven had already blessed her so much—wasn't it greedy to expect everything to go smoothly?
With that thought, her disappointment and anger melted away, replaced by warmth. And then… she fell asleep.
Roy felt her breathing steady and her body relax. Part of him ached to see her so exhausted she could pass out mid-conversation; another part found it amusing. Carefully, he carried her to bed, tucked her in, then turned and strode out—his expression darkening with every step.
Soon, he stood outside Leonardo's door. Before he could knock, laughter spilled from inside, making his eyes frost over.
Laila was so upset she collapsed asleep, and this bastard was here laughing with his girlfriend.
BANG! BANG!
His fist hammered against the door.