Rebirth of a Hollywood Socialite.

"Kid," the old man stood up and patted him on the shoulder twice, "Take good care of her for me."

"I will," Roy nodded firmly.

He didn't need to be told; he would do it anyway. Not for the old man, nor anyone else, but entirely for himself. If anything happened to Laila, the first person he would never forgive would be himself.

They quickly reached an agreement with just a few words, while upstairs, the tug-of-war between Laila and Janet had just begun.

Janet had brought over thirty wedding dress designs.

Yes, thirty! According to her, this was the result of several rounds of simplification.

Laila couldn't help but wonder if, without any screening, she would have been faced with an entire room full of wedding dresses.

If all these designs were made, it would be enough to host a wedding dress show, and it would undoubtedly make a huge splash.

She didn't have any special requirements for wedding dresses. Back when they were preparing for the engagement dress, she had already exhausted all her patience. If she had to go through it again, she felt she would go crazy before the dress was even finished.

Since when did getting married become so complicated?

"Mom, why don't you just decide?"

"Of course not, it's not my wedding!"

"Right, you and Mr. Quentin just got a marriage certificate, didn't you? Why does my wedding dress have to be such a hassle?"

Janet smiled triumphantly, "Who said we only got a marriage certificate? Of course, we're going to have a wedding ceremony too! And it's going to be a grand one!"

"What? When?" This was something Laila hadn't expected. They had been married for years, hadn't they? They didn't have a ceremony back then, so why would they want one now?

Janet wagged a finger in front of her, "Of course, we're going to have the wedding together with you. A mother and daughter getting married together, isn't that romantic?"

Laila was stunned by her words. A mother and daughter getting married together? Wasn't that something only seen in movies and TV shows? If they did that, she didn't think it would be romantic at all; she would just feel like a joke. Every time her wedding was mentioned, it would inevitably lead to discussions about the mother and daughter getting married together.

Oh my God! That would be terrifying!

"No! Absolutely not!" Laila firmly refused, "You can get married on your own."

"How can you say that? I've been looking forward to this for so long!" Janet, sensing her strong refusal, looked disappointed, "Isn't it nice to get married together? We could wear wedding dresses together, have the ceremony together, and the whole world would bless us!"

Laila forced a smile, "I think the whole world would bless you even if you got married on your own."

Could the cultural differences between East and West be this vast? Why couldn't she feel any of the romance her mother was talking about? Why was it that the same event seemed like a romantic love story to her mother, but a horror movie to her?

To stop her from continuing, Laila quickly changed the subject, "Mom, before we talk about wedding dresses, don't you think we should first discuss the dresses I'll be wearing at the Golden Globes and the Oscars?"

"Don't worry, I've already prepared them. Just a few details are being finalized, and I'll bring them over once they're done."

Laila had finally thought of a way to divert the conversation, only to have it shot down immediately.

"How's little William been? Has he been naughty?" She remembered reading a book once that talked about ways to keep a conversation going, like talking to a mother about her child, which would surely lead to endless topics. Of course, the premise was that you might have to listen to endless complaints and pride from the mother.

But she forgot one thing: she was also this lady's child. Janet, being a mother, could easily see through her child's little tricks.

So she sneered, "He's doing great, which means we have plenty of time to discuss your wedding dress!"

Laila leaned back in her chair, silently pleading to the heavens. Dear gods, could someone please come to my rescue?

The gods didn't appear, but a savior did come.

Hearing the ring of her phone, Laila almost gratefully picked it up. Without knowing who was calling, she decided that no matter what the request was, she would be more than willing to help.

"Sorry, Mom, I need to take this call. It might be something work-related."

"Fine," Janet pouted, clearly seeing her "finally escaped from torment" expression. It didn't matter; if she escaped this time, there would always be a next time. As long as she stayed by her side, there would be plenty of opportunities to continue the discussion.

Watching her mother leave the room, Laila finally breathed a sigh of relief and answered the call, "This is Laila."

"Hello, Director Moran, this is Andrew."

"Andrew, hello," Laila was a bit surprised to receive his call, "Is the script revised?"

"Ah? Oh, the script... uh, not yet," Andrew stammered, not sure how to say it. He had impulsively made the call, but now that he heard her voice, all the courage he had mustered was gone...

Laila glanced at her phone, confirming that the number was indeed Andrew, the scriptwriter for "Blood Diamond." But what was going on with him?

"Is there a problem with the script?" The only thing she could think of was that he had hit a snag while writing the script.

Andrew wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with one hand while holding the phone with the other, "The script is fine, no problems. Just give me a few more days, and I'll have it all revised."

"That's good," Laila was increasingly confused about what he was trying to say. If this were in her past life, she would have thought the person was trying to borrow money. But here, there was no way someone she wasn't close to would ask her for money, right?

But if he wanted to borrow money, she would be happy to lend some. After all, she had more money than she could spend, and if a little money could secure an excellent scriptwriter, it would be a win for her no matter how you looked at it.

Andrew hesitated, "Actually, Director Moran, could I ask you for a favor?"

"Go ahead," Laila couldn't help but wonder if it was about borrowing money.

"Last time at your company, I found writing the script very smooth. I was wondering if you could lend me a space. I promise I won't wander around; just a desk and a chair would do!"

"Is that all?" Laila chuckled, "You're welcome anytime. I'll call the front desk later. When you arrive, just ask for them. I remember there are a few lounges that are rarely used; you can pick anyone you like."