Alex lay on his bed with his laptop open. It was time to work on his next project. His last project, Hurt Locker, had been his crowning achievement—an intense war drama that not only dominated the box office but also raked in multiple Academy Awards. Well, now he wanted to create something different. Something deeply personal. Something that spoke to the human condition rather than an adrenaline-fueled spectacle.

A romance.

Not the generic, formulaic kind that Hollywood churned out year after year. No, he wanted something real. Something that left people thinking long after the credits rolled.

Thankfully, he wasn't short on inspiration.

Thanks to the knowledge he carried from his past life, he already knew which stories had the potential to become iconic. He had no shortage of ideas, no lack of brilliant scripts waiting to be written.

The only question was... Which one?

He opened the saved novels that he never posted and chose three.

Each was a masterpiece in its own right. Each had the power to redefine modern romance in film.

And tonight, he had to make a choice.

[The American Beauty]

Alex opened the first book.

A story about suburban disillusionment, The American Beauty was not a romance in the conventional sense. It was a deep, psychological unraveling of love, desire, and the crushing weight of expectations.

It wasn't about grand gestures or happy endings. It was about truth, even when that truth was ugly.

It was a bold choice. A controversial one.

Audiences expected romance to be beautiful, to leave them with hope. This film would do the opposite. It would force them to confront uncomfortable realities, to question the nature of happiness itself.

Would Hollywood embrace something so dark?

Or would it be too much of a risk?

Alex exhaled and moved to the next one.

[Lost in Translation]

A quieter, more introspective story.

Two lost souls, adrift in a foreign land, finding solace in each other.

Lost in Translation was not about fiery passion or sweeping declarations. It was about the small moments. A glance across a crowded room. A whispered conversation in the middle of the night. The unspoken understanding between two people who knew their time together was fleeting.

It was a film that didn't rely on action or spectacle. It thrived in subtlety.

And yet, it was precisely that subtlety that made it a risk.

Would audiences connect with something so understated? Or would they dismiss it as too quiet, too uneventful?

Alex tapped his pen against the desk, considering.

Then, he moved on to the final option.

[La La Land]

Alex smirked.

This was the biggest choice.

A film about love and ambition, about chasing dreams even at the cost of losing something precious.

La La Land was vibrant. Nostalgic. It celebrated the magic of romance while acknowledging its inevitable heartbreak.

Of the three scripts, this was the safest bet. It had music, spectacle, sweeping emotions—everything a modern audience could want.

...

Alex leaned back against the headboard, his laptop balanced on his lap, fingers tapping idly against the keyboard. The soft glow of the screen illuminated his face in the dimly lit room, casting long shadows across the penthouse.

Three choices.

Three entirely different stories.

Three paths, each leading to a different kind of legacy.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. The American Beauty was bold, La La Land was the safest, and Lost in Translation...

His gaze lingered on the last one.

Quiet. Introspective. Subtle.

There were no grand speeches, no dramatic love triangles, no over-the-top declarations of love in the pouring rain. Just two people, lost in a world that didn't quite understand them, finding something fleeting yet profound in each other.

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It was a story that didn't tell you how to feel. It just... let you feel it.

And that was precisely why he couldn't stop thinking about it.

With a sigh, Alex snapped the laptop shut. This wasn't a decision he could make from the comfort of his bed.

He needed air.

The night air was crisp against his skin as he stepped onto the penthouse balcony, barefoot and still in the T-shirt and sweatpants he'd been lounging in.

The city stretched out before him, a glittering sea of neon and headlights. New York never slept. Not really. But up here, high above the noise and chaos, it almost felt peaceful.

Alex placed his hands on the cool metal railing and let his mind wander.

Did he want safety? A guaranteed hit? Because if he did, La La Land was the obvious choice. Big musical numbers. Nostalgic charm. Romance and heartbreak wrapped up in a beautifully cinematic package.

It would sell. It would win awards.

But would it matter?

He frowned.

The American Beauty was powerful. Dark. It had the kind of depth that made critics lose their minds.

But was the world ready for that kind of brutal honesty?

Or rather... was he?

His fingers tapped against the railing.

No.

Neither of those was his story to tell.

His heart already knew the answer.

Lost in Translation.

It wasn't the loudest. It wasn't the flashiest. It wouldn't command attention the way other films did.

But it would linger.

It would whisper to people long after they left the theater. It would sit in their minds, in their chests, growing in meaning as they carried it with them through life.

That was the kind of story he wanted to tell.

Alex exhaled, letting the weight of the decision settle.

That's it, then.

He went back to the bed after closing the balcony doors. Then sent the project to his assistant. After that, he fell asleep.

...

[Morning]

Alex's morning started the same way it always did... early. Not by choice. His phone's relentless vibrating on the nightstand had yanked him out of sleep like a drill sergeant with a vendetta. He groaned, blindly reaching for it and squinting at the screen.

7:02 AM.

And about ten missed calls from his assistant, Rachel. That was never a good sign. Alex exhaled sharply, ran a hand down his face, and finally picked up on the eleventh ring. "Rachel, if someone isn't dead or on fire, I swear..."

"Where have you been?!" Rachel cut in, her voice at peak exasperation.

"Sleeping?" Alex said dryly, rolling out of bed and stretching. "Like a normal human being?"

"Normal human beings don't disappear the morning after they drop a multi-million-dollar project onto their production team with zero warning!"

Alex rubbed his temple. 'Ah. Right.'

Last night, he'd sent out a preliminary message about his next film choice before knocking out. And judging by Rachel's tone, that message had sent Hollywood into a full-blown crisis.

"I take it you got my email," Alex muttered, already moving toward the shower.

Rachel made a sound. It was part sigh, part scream, part strangled groan. "Alex. You picked a quiet, artsy romance. You know that's not what the studio wanted."

Alex turned on the tub water, letting the water heat up. "And?"

"And?! And?!" Rachel sounded personally offended. "Do you have any idea how many meetings I had to schedule in the last hour? I'm talking emergency-level Hollywood nonsense. Studio execs. Investors. Agents. They are asking if you'd lost your goddamn mind!"

He grinned. "Did you tell him it happened years ago?"

"I did not," Rachel snapped. "Because I'm too busy figuring out how to keep these people from freaking out."

Alex yawned, stepping into the shower. "Tell them all to calm down. I know what I'm doing."

Rachel's sigh could be heard over the phone and through time itself. "You always think that, Alex. And then the next thing I know, I'm getting calls from some A-list actor's agent demanding to know why you rejected their client in favor of some unknown indie guy you saw in a coffee shop once."

He smirked. "That actor won an Oscar two years later."

"That's not the point!"

Alex chuckled. "Relax, Rachel. This one will be in-house production and I'll be directing the movie. I'll take care of all the casting and all that other crap you hate handling. Besides, I'll be taking all the risks. So, it doesn't matter what I do with my money or my production house. I am the boss, not them. Make sure they get that. If they won't then feel free to fire them. Tell them to read the contract." He started singing an old tune by Oasis: "Should I Stay Or Should I go? Now if the Rolling Stones say...It's alright. It's okay. You may look and see me go away..."

Rachel let out a very long, very aggravated sigh. "Alex, please take your life a little bit seriously."

"This is my life," he laughed. "Anyway, I'm guessing the Blackstar Studios are the ones to say no this time?"

"...How'd you know?" She asked.

"Simple deduction. Our collaboration contract ended with the last movie. So, why the hell are they meddling in my work?" He placed the phone on the basin counter and put it on loudspeaker. Then he stepped into the tub.

"Uh, you aren't going to renew the contract? Vanessa Harper called me two days ago, saying that you are planning on renewing the contract!" She sounded exasperated.

"Yeah, I planned to, but considering the problem they are creating and might create in the future that might hinder my movie, then I want the option to decline their involvement in my next film. It's time, Rachel to promote our production house to the next level. No more collaborations with other production houses or investors. Only ours."

There was a moment of silence from the other side, which told him Rachel was staring at her phone right now in the middle of his declaration.

"This...This is so sudden. Many people are gonna be pissed off," She stammered.

He was glad she didn't oppose his idea.

"My money, my project, my team... I could care less about some third-rate leachers leaching off from me for the last five years. Vanessa helped me with my startup, and I paid her enough for the last five years. It's time to go our separate ways. Moving on, get the word out about the new project. Set up audition dates and all those things you usually do. I'll swing by the Blackstar Studios on the way. Oh, before I forget tell the team that since we are doing everything in-house without collaborating with another party, they can expect a raise in their paycheck, including you," Alex said as he sat comfortably in the bathtub and relaxed himself.

There was another brief silence, followed by a reluctant voice, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. You are the one I should be thanking for taking care of my mess these past few years, also, replace the freezer in my office, please. It's been acting up lately," He ordered.

"Don't tell me that a five-year-old ice cream cup melted," She chuckled.

"It was the cookie flavor, the limited batch! Now I'm never getting it. Gahh! That was three years ago and it still haunts me in my sleep... You are never going to let it go, are you?"

Rachel let out a chuckle, "Absolutely not. But don't worry, I'll take care of it as usual."

"You are a lifesaver, Rachel," He gave his gratitude to her, to whom he could entrust the most.

"I aim to serve, but tell me this, Alex. Are you really planning on casting unknown actors this time?" She asked.

"We will just see about that... Well, see ya in the office," He responded vaguely.

"Yeah, see you..."

After their call ended, Alex sighed and relaxed in the bathtub, enjoying the feeling of his exhaustion melting away. His eyes closed, and he let out a long sigh.

"Oops. I forgot about the Cupcake deal."

Alex took his phone and texted Caroline, informing her about the date, time and location of the delivery.