If Laila hadn't known how fiercely loyal Anthony was to her grandfather—utterly devoted and unwavering—she might have suspected he was sent by someone else. Asking such a blunt question about a topic everyone had been carefully avoiding—wasn't that throwing her under the bus?
Well, she had to admit, only by tearing open the dark underbelly of the issue could she separate the Golden Globes from public focus.
"Sexism, I think, exists in every country—more or less. When it comes to Hollywood, even if I don't say it outright, everyone can see it for themselves. Like, how much pay disparity there is between male and female actors at the same level."
Anthony's heart gave a jolt as he looked at her, surprised. When he'd asked that pointed question, he had expected his young boss to brush it off with a witty or clever remark. He hadn't thought she'd answer it—and directly call out a problem everyone knew about but kept pretending didn't exist.
Seeing her calm and composed expression, he suddenly felt that maybe… maybe she was playing a much bigger game.
So the very next day, The Entertainer's Gazette hit newsstands all across town as scheduled. And splashed across a prominent section of the front page was a shocking headline:
"Hollywood's Renowned Director Laila Moran Declares Sexism the Norm."
Naturally, the headline had only been approved with Laila's consent. Otherwise, with a title that explosive, her grandfather would've hauled Anthony in and scolded him to hell and back.
Right now, with the Golden Globes at the height of controversy, Laila's statement immediately sparked excitement among readers. But after buying the paper and reading the article, they realized her accusation of "sexism" wasn't aimed at the Golden Globes—the scapegoat in everyone's mind—but at something much bigger: Hollywood itself.
To support Laila's claims, The Entertainer's Gazette listed numerous A-list male and female actors, putting their salaries side-by-side. The precise figures laid out the issue plain as day—anyone who could read numbers could see just how big the pay gap was between men and women of the same rank.
"I didn't know the difference was that huge! That's terrifying!"
Countless regular readers who'd been clueless before gasped in shock after finishing the article.
But for those already inside the Hollywood system, such pay disparities were business as usual. Everyone did it. If you didn't, you'd offend others. And there was no reason for a male actor who normally got $20 million to suddenly accept a $10 million paycheck for your movie—unless it was for an extraordinary script or a legendary director. Likewise, no studio would suddenly double a female actor's pay from $10 million to $20 million.
No one wanted to be the fool footing the bill. And no one was going to stir the pot over such "minor" issues. Take Laila out of the equation, and Hollywood remained a man's world—where women could only play by the rules set by men.
If Laila hadn't had money, power, and background, it would've been nearly impossible for someone so young to break into the industry the way she did.
So it wasn't surprising that The Entertainer's Gazette report blew up the conversation instantly.
People loved to talk about things like this—especially when it didn't affect their world. The more chaotic, the more entertaining.
But within Hollywood, the expected disruption didn't quite materialize. Everything went on as usual. No one, not even the actresses, had much to say about the pay issue.
They wanted higher salaries and better deals, sure—but they also understood exactly where they stood in the Hollywood hierarchy. If speaking up meant losing work, what good was a higher theoretical paycheck if the roles stopped coming in? Wouldn't someone else just get the opportunity instead?
And so, a strange contrast formed: the outside world was on fire with debate, while inside the industry, not even a ripple stirred.
In truth, Laila had brought up the issue in hopes of fighting for better rights for women in Hollywood. Unfortunately, hardly anyone was willing to stand by her side, which left her feeling more than a little disappointed.
"Don't be disheartened. They have their burdens too," Roy said after hearing her sigh and seeing her browsing related topics online. He could tell she wasn't in a great mood.
If it had been him—going out of his way to speak up on others' behalf, only to find not one person backing him—he wouldn't have felt good either.
Laila shook her head, unwilling to continue the conversation.
Even with a storm of thoughts swirling inside her, she didn't want to say anything more.
Exhausted.
That was the only word that truly described how she felt right now.
Roy reached out and gently ruffled her hair.
"In this world—or rather, in Hollywood—most people are caught in circumstances they can't control. You want women to get what they deserve, but you forgot how powerless many of them are."
Seeing she was finally willing to listen, he smiled and continued,
"They still need to work, to get roles. If they publicly supported you, would anyone dare to cast them again? That means producers would have to pay at least double what they used to. But if they just hire someone who doesn't echo your stance, they save half the cost. What do you think will happen in that case?"
Without waiting for her to answer, he laid it out plainly:
"The ones who support you would end up with nothing—no pay, no scripts. Even if you gave them a chance, how many films can you shoot in a year? How many actresses can your company realistically use? Do you think you can help all of them?"
Laila didn't deny that he had a point. She could hire female actors at "fair" rates—but if she had that money and those resources, she'd rather use the artists signed under her own company.
People were pragmatic. To walk the path ahead, you had to see it.
No one who made it in showbiz was a fool. So why would they risk standing up now?
Laila could understand their concerns. But still, she felt stifled. Maybe she had tried to take too big of a step.
Yet unbeknownst to her, she had already made an impact on Hollywood.
In recent years, studios had started realizing that female directors weren't as bad as they'd assumed. Some had even begun handing them real opportunities. On top of that, thanks to the film hailed as the epitome of "violent aesthetics"—Kill Bill—Hollywood had finally caught a glimpse of the commercial and artistic value of female-led films. That alone prompted them to explore more female-centric stories instead of clinging blindly to male protagonists.
All of this was happening quietly, gradually—without Laila even noticing.
And now, realizing she may have been too impatient, she slowly let the issue go.
She had more pressing things to worry about—because the nominations for the 82nd Academy Awards had just been announced!