Laila woke up to the scent of milk. The aroma of milk, buttered bread, and an unidentified fragrance combined to forcefully pull her out of her slumber.
Opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was the food tray placed beside her.
Sitting up, she glanced around with still somewhat groggy eyes. The familiar decor, the familiar bed, it was her room.
Sunlight streamed in through the curtains, bringing with it a gentle warmth. The battle between the warmth inside and the slight chill outside had left the window's glass covered in a hazy mist.
Everything was so peaceful, serene, and cozy.
But Laila's eyes soon narrowed as she noticed something amiss. For instance, Claire never used to bring her breakfast to her bedroom, and her curtains wouldn't have such a large gap in the middle.
Her memory began to return, and she realized that she should have been at the company before falling asleep. And now... it didn't seem like afternoon or evening, which meant she had slept through to the next day? Considering how exhausted she had been the past few days, it wasn't impossible, but how did she get back here?
A bodyguard? That didn't seem likely. Bodyguards wouldn't prepare breakfast for her, let alone hot milk. Claire was with her mother, so the only person who could have done this was him.
Looking at the clock, it was already 9:20 in the morning. This was probably the longest sleep she'd had in a while.
After pondering for a moment, she got out of bed, her clothes from yesterday in disarray. She changed into some home attire and then knocked on the door next to her room.
The door opened from the inside, revealing Roy's always pleasant face.
"You're awake," he said, opening the door for her to enter.
Laila nodded and stepped inside. "Thank you for bringing me back."
"It's nothing, Louise asked me to do it," he said, regretting his words the moment they left his mouth. Did that mean he didn't want to help her at all? Their relationship was already strained, why did he have to make it even more uncomfortable?
"But still, thank you," Laila replied without sensing his internal struggle. "Has 'Ocean's Eleven' finished shooting?"
"My part is done. I came back early to be with Abel," he said, turning his head slightly to the side, hoping she wouldn't ask about the things happening on the set.
Being on the set of 'Ocean's Eleven opened his eyes to many things, and he realized how lucky he had been before. But at the time, he hadn't realized it, and he had enjoyed the convenience she brought him without any guilt.
During those few months away, he had come to understand that he wasn't as talented as he had thought, and in Hollywood, relying solely on acting wasn't enough to make it big. Without her, he wouldn't have made it to where he was now. What he couldn't forgive himself for was that he had betrayed her and gone to work for someone else. How had he ever thought he could stomach such a despicable role?
Distance makes the heart grow fonder? You only appreciate what you've lost? How had he been so deluded to think that something like this could happen between them? It was too late to complain now. He just wanted to know how to mend the rift between them, not say something stupid that would make it worse. But why couldn't he control his mouth?
"I'm sorry," Laila said apologetically. "Because of some urgent matters, I had to go back to New York and could only leave Abel here to be taken care of by the servants."
"You don't need to apologize, I already know about Janet's situation. Congratulations," she was apologizing to him... Roy had the urge to slam his head against the wall.
Laila smiled, "You find it amusing, don't you? That I'm about to have a little brother or sister. I hope their arrival will make Mother happier."
She was well aware that once her soul had taken over this body, she no longer belonged to the Moran family. Even if she felt that the Moran family treated her well and considered them her family, there would always be a difference compared to their real children. She was too independent for family members. But she knew that their souls couldn't blend like real relatives.
Roy had been watching her the whole time and noticed the fleeting change in her eyes as she spoke. He didn't know what it meant, but he felt like she was building a barrier, isolating herself from the world with a protective shell.
He had felt this way before, that while Laila was easy to get along with, she was also hard to get close to. It was like she was wrapped in a hard shell, protecting her soft heart.
"Are you doing okay lately?" he finally couldn't help but ask.
Laila hesitated for a moment and then smiled, her eyes curving. "Of course."
Roy knew better than to believe her. "You didn't look okay yesterday."
"Women have those days every month," she shrugged.
Roy was taken aback by Laila's response, knowing that it wasn't true but unable to press further. He just stared at her with a pair of gray eyes.
Laila, the bored woman who enjoyed teasing a young and handsome guy, smiled as her eyes curved.
"Let's not talk about that. Do you have any work arrangements coming up?"
Roy looked at her, "Is there something you need me to do?"
"A few months ago, I went to the East, and they warmly invited me to perform at an event there. I accepted the offer. If you have the time, would you like to rehearse a performance with me?"
"An event in the East?" Roy certainly wouldn't refuse her request, but he hadn't expected to perform in the East.
Laila thought he was concerned about his agent, "Don't worry, tell Ovitz that at least a few hundred million people in the East will watch this event, and performing there will immediately make you famous in the entire East. I don't think he'll refuse."
Not only would he not refuse, but he would also be overjoyed! Hollywood had an immense enthusiasm for tapping into larger markets. With over a billion people in the East, even if they attracted just a fraction, a thousandth, or a ten-thousandth of the population to watch the movie, it would be a massive success.
Stars earned fame, and with fame, money flowed in. Agents made money from the fame of their clients, so why would Ovitz refuse such a great opportunity? But wasn't that missing the point?
"I'm not worried about Ovitz!" He had no interest in how that old man who had talked him into changing agencies would react. What he cared about was...
"Never mind, as long as you know I have to problem." He slumped into the sofa, feeling dejected.