But when he heard his father's plan, all the yet-to-sprout tender shoots were strangled in their cradle. Selling his son for a little benefit – what was that? He wasn't a puppet, he wouldn't sacrifice his happiness for the sake of profit. If that person was so good, why didn't he go pursue her himself?
Warren was so preoccupied with preventing his father's anticipated actions that he forgot who was sitting right in front of him. It was Laila, the most prominent young director in Hollywood, the sole heir of the Moran family. Was someone like her that easy to pursue?
Forget about him not considering pursuing her; even if he tried his hardest to pursue her, he wouldn't stand a chance.
Yes, he indeed had good looks on his side, but so did Laila. Standing at 172 cm tall, though she was a bit slender, she still had the kind of figure that could easily become a model.
As for the family background, there was an insurmountable gap between being the son of a brand's president and the sole heir of a conglomerate. From the perspective of compatibility, as the saying goes, "matching doors and backgrounds," they were simply not suited for each other.
Warren's usual interactions revolved around company affairs and models, so he was accustomed to placing himself on a higher level. Maybe he had never felt superior because of this, nor had he ever seen his family background as an advantage. However, people around him certainly indulged and flattered him, leading him to habitually think that as long as he wished, any woman would fall for him.
If Laila's identity were that of a model, or if she came from a more ordinary family, she might have been attracted by this prince charming.
However, Laila not only possessed a broader perspective but also the most crucial factor: her rebirth. Love and such matters weren't even part of her plans, at least not until she achieved her desired goals.
So, Warren, the handsome young man, was overthinking things.
Laila had only asked casually, suggesting that she could spare a tour guide for him. Since he declined, she wasn't going to insist.
After seeing Warren off, she opened the gift box to find a sparkling diamond bracelet inside. It seemed they noticed she only wore a simple red string bracelet on her wrist, so they sent her this diamond bracelet. It was clear that Victoria's Secret had put some thought into choosing the gift.
She smiled and put it into her bag. Such items easily cost tens or even hundreds of thousands, so it was safer to keep them in a more secure and discreet place. She wasn't used to casually carrying something so valuable. After all, she had only been in this world for three years; it was understandable that she still couldn't fully adapt to the life of the elite.
A deafening clap of thunder exploded overhead.
Laila realized that the sky had become overcast without her noticing. Lightning bolts danced among the dark clouds, exuding an almost apocalyptic fierceness.
Heavy rain poured down, providing relief from the gradually warming weather.
She had initially thought the rain wouldn't last long, but to her surprise, by the time her workday ended, the rain had only lessened slightly and continued to pour.
Laila didn't want to wait any longer. She had her chauffeur bring the car, and she and Claire headed home.
Dark clouds had caused the night to fall early on Hollywood. Vehicles and pedestrians hurried along, and the lights along the streets retained a hint of their former vibrancy.
Many people felt gloomy on rainy days, and Laila was no exception. The raindrops beating against the car window prompted her to recall memories from her previous life – memories she didn't want to think about but stubbornly persisted in her mind.
While waiting at a red light, Claire noticed that Laila's expression wasn't good. She touched her forehead in concern and, finding nothing unusual, asked, "What's wrong? Something on your mind?"
"Nothing, just a bit tired." Laila smiled reassuringly.
"Tired? No wonder!" Claire disagreed, giving her a critical look. "Look at how busy you've been lately. Do you think you're ten people rolled into one?"
Laila touched her nose. "I'm not that busy." She had come up with a random excuse, not expecting it to backfire on her.
"Not busy? You're making movies, planning, taking photographs, writing scripts... Do you think you're Superman or something?"
"All those things are what I enjoy doing, and they make me happy. I don't feel tired." Laila couldn't help but defend herself.
"That's true, I know you're happy doing them, so I haven't stopped you. But if you keep neglecting your health like this, maybe I should report your condition to Janet!" Claire knew that Laila wasn't the sickly little girl she used to be, but the image of her nearly dying still haunted her thoughts, making her worry that such a situation might occur again.
For her, using extreme measures to ensure Laila's health and safety wasn't excessive.
"I know I was wrong!" Laila realized that continuing to argue wouldn't lead to victory. It was better to surrender sooner rather than later.
Aware of Laila's tendencies when it came to "actively admitting faults, yet remaining unyielding," Claire simply sighed, recognizing that she wouldn't be able to dissuade her from this stubborn mindset. She patiently continued to stress the importance of health.
What does it mean that you won't die if you don't court death? At this moment, Laila truly understood.
If she could turn back time a few minutes, she would have preferred to speak the truth instead of carelessly mentioning how "tired" she was.
Under Claire's incessant lecturing, Laila turned her gaze out the window. The rain had eased up quite a bit by now. As the car stopped at a red light, she observed pedestrians outside, entertaining herself with a game of guessing people's professions based on their attire, carried items, and walking style. It wasn't as magical as Sherlock Holmes' deductions, but it did help exercise her analytical skills.
Suddenly, her gaze landed on a girl holding an umbrella. The girl was pretty, not in terms of looks – it was hard to discern that on a rainy night – but her movements were attractive. Even with one hand holding the umbrella and the other extended outside, hitchhiking-style, she still emitted a refreshing youthful vibe.
In this weather, it was difficult to find a cab, let alone get a free ride. Standing not far behind the girl were two other girls who appeared to be about the same age, seemingly encouraging and cheering her on.
Laila didn't know whether it was just bad luck or another reason, but the girl with the umbrella already had one sleeve drenched, and she hadn't managed to flag down a willing car.
As their car slowly approached, Laila noticed that the girl had black hair, suggesting she might be of Asian descent.
"Pull over," she instructed the chauffeur.
"Yes, Ma."