Illusiveone
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195: Redoing my Life, The Fight
🕑 Added 2025-04-25 10:33:55 +0000 UTC“Alejandro, listen to me—” I said through gritted teeth, holding the phone tighter than necessary.
“Daniel, you have to understand—”
“No, I think it’s you who has to understand,” I cut him off. My patience was wearing thin, and he could hear it in my voice.
“I’ve been nothing but conciliatory,” I said as I paced the room, trying to stay level. “I allowed the budget to increase—reasonably. I trusted your judgment, gave you space. But this? This is too much. No more.”
Silence on the other end. Then Alejandro spoke, trying to steady things. “Daniel, I didn’t mean for it to spiral like this—”
“And yet it has.” I leaned on my desk, pinching the bridge of my nose. “We’re nearing the end of the shoot. This is when things should be winding down.”
The Revenant’s budget had ballooned into dangerous territory—well beyond what we’d projected. Paul had warned me; for months he’d told me it was getting out of hand. I’d ignored him. I trusted Alejandro’s vision—still did—but I couldn’t let it jeopardize everything.
“I’ll be more careful,” Alejandro said. “From now on—”
“No. No, we’re way past that.” I cut him off again, sterner now. “I’m sending in my people. They’ll oversee things. Work with me on this—let’s not fight over it.”
There was a pause.
“…Yes. Yes, I understand,” Alejandro finally said.
“Good. I’ll see you next month.” I didn’t wait for a reply. I ended the call and dropped the phone onto the table with a thud.
I was visiting Mom.
It had been a month since I’d visited Mom, Nathan, and Alice. Work had kept me locked up—so much so that Mom had practically ordered me to come. You don’t say no to Mom when she uses that tone.
I was about to sit down when Alice came skipping into the room with that big, toothy smile of hers. “Mom says it’s time to eat!” she beamed.
I met her halfway, scooped her up, and planted rapid-fire kisses on her face while she giggled and squirmed. Her laugh—pure joy. God, I missed it.
“Will you play with me today?” she asked, her arms wrapped around my neck.
That pang in my chest again.
“I’m sorry, Al,” I said softly. “I can’t stay that long. I have—”
Her arms dropped. Her smile vanished. “You always do that,” she snapped, wriggling out of my grip and storming off.
I sighed and followed after her, guilt gnawing at me. Soon we were all gathered around the table—Mom, Nathan, Alice (still pouting), Margot, and me.
The conversation started off light, mostly about Nathan’s mom getting herself arrested at some protest. Mom was making fun of her mother-in-law, much to Nathan’s embarrassment.
But it didn’t take long for the conversation to veer toward the damn lawsuit.
I’d nearly had a stroke when I first read through the details—weaponized stupidity in its purest form. It was a masterclass in nonsense. There was no real case, no legal legs to stand on. My legal team—some of the best in the game—plus another lawyer I’d hired in New York, since it was filed there, all said it would never survive the courtroom.
So then… why? Why bother with it?
Because it wasn’t about winning. It was about headlines, about stirring the pot—a way to throw mud and see what stuck.
Raj, Lucy, Adrian—everyone close to me—was convinced there was someone behind it, some puppet master pulling the strings. A bigger name with a bigger vendetta.
I’d made enemies, yes. Weinstein was the obvious suspect; he had motive. But honestly? I doubted it. I had him by the balls.
He wouldn’t be stupid enough to poke the bear.
Nobody else came to mind.
Yes, I hadn’t exactly been active in watching out for threats lately—not like I used to be. Truth was, I didn’t have to. I was busier than ever, sure, but I had a team now—people whose entire job was to worry about those things for me.
And besides… every crisis I’d faced in the past ten years? They all ended the same way: in my favor.
It wasn’t ego; it was just the truth. When the dust settled, I always walked out clean. Untouched. If anything, stronger than before. It was almost superstitious at this point—like Lady Luck herself had taken a personal interest in my well-being.
Considering what had happened to me twelve years ago… yeah, I’d come to believe there was something mystical about the world, and whatever it was, it was on my side.
I tuned back into the conversation just as Margot was mid-sentence, explaining the lawsuit in dramatic detail to my mom, who was soaking in every word with that signature tight-lipped concern of hers.
I cut in, trying to redirect. “It’s nothing, Mom. Really. It’s not a big deal.”
Margot immediately shot me a look. “You have to stop saying that.”
Here we go.
“I don’t have to say anything,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light but firm. “The lawsuit has no legs. It won’t even make it to court.”
Mom raised an eyebrow. “What Margot’s trying to say, sweetheart, is that maybe you need to start taking things like this seriously. What if someone accuses you of something worse—sexual harassment? Assault?”
My fork clinked against the plate. “No one’s going to do that.”
Margot didn’t miss a beat. “You said it yourself—this lawsuit’s a PR stunt. What’s to stop someone else from going further? Someone really determined, with backing? You’re not untouchable, Danny.”
“I know I’m not untouchable,” I said, sharper than I meant. “I just… I know what’s noise and what’s worth worrying about.”
The table fell silent. Alice kept pushing her eggs around, sensing the tension. Nathan looked like he wanted to disappear into his coffee.
The conversation limped forward, but the mood was soured; the topic lingered. Mom and Nathan gently offered advice I didn’t want, while Margot stayed tight-lipped. I smiled and nodded, but I was done.
We left after a while.
Margot and I barely spoke as we got into the car. Silence stretched through the first few minutes of the drive back.
“You really don’t see the problem?” she said at last.
I let out a breath. “No, I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me?”
Her voice was low but sharp. “Remember what your mom said? What if next time you’re accused of something worse?”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“The way you’re taking this? Yes, there will be,” she snapped. “You’ve made powerful enemies, Danny.”
“Like those investors from Netflix you told me about, or that Warner executive who wanted to buy Nebula before you ruined his plans—you were the one who told me about them.”
“And now you think it’s a joke.”
I laughed, more out of disbelief than anything. “Because it is a joke.”
“No, it’s not,” she said.
I cut her off. “You know what I think? I think I know where this paranoia’s coming from—that book you read, the tell-all by the failed producer.”
“That book had great insights, Danny,” she said tightly. “I asked you to read it.”
“It’s fear-mongering.”
Margot was silent for a moment. “You’re not too big to fail, Danny.”
I gripped the wheel. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” she said. “But you’re damn well acting like it.”
I clenched my jaw and stared at the road, refusing to answer. The rest of the drive passed in thick, heavy silence.
We arrived home. I opened the door; Margot followed without a word.
Inside the apartment I sighed. “You’re worrying about this too much. You never used to.”
She turned, already tense. “Well, the Daniel Adler I knew two years ago would’ve seen something like this coming. It might never have happened.”
I dropped my keys onto the tray with more force than necessary. “I’m a busy man, Mags. I have people to handle this stuff now. I don’t need to micromanage every rumor or tabloid splash.”
“I’m not saying you should. I’m saying you need to take things like this seriously instead of brushing them off.”
I shook my head. “When did I do that? Honestly, I think stress is getting to you. Why are we even fighting about this?”
“You think I’m being cocky? No—I’m not.”
“Yes,” she said flatly. “You are.”
The words stung more than I expected, and I reacted without thinking. “Maybe I’m not taking this seriously because it’s not even my fault. If I remember correctly, it’s yours. They came after you, didn’t they? And I helped. I stood by you.”
I didn’t stop.
“Maybe, Mags… maybe you don’t have what it takes to be in this business if you’re panicking over something like this.”
I regretted it the instant it left my mouth. The silence that followed was instant—and deafening.
Margot blinked. Her expression barely changed, but her eyes darkened. She turned without a word and walked into our bedroom, closing the door behind her.
I stood there like an idiot, hand half-raised, wanting to call out.
“M—” I started, then stopped myself.
I sank onto the couch.
What the hell was that?
I sounded like an asshole.
Maybe the stress was finally bleeding through—this whole past month had been a mess: the lawsuit, my latest novel under-performing, Revenant’s ballooning budget, writer’s block on the next Elden Ring manuscript.
It was piling up. And maybe… maybe she was right. Maybe I wasn’t the same as before.
I needed to clear my head—I need to get out of here.
No, you need to stay and apologize, a part of me said, but I didn’t listen. I stood, grabbed my jacket, and walked out the door.
Comments
CkLance
You got bro acting like he has to be stressed. Dude is juggling 3 or 4 project per year when producers/ screenwriters typically do 1 or 2 every year or 2. Some might even be as slow as 1 every 2 or 3 years. It's to the point he's neglecting his sister and fighting with Margot now.
Josh Muggs
Maybe he’s become too comfortable. I think maybe a break away for a day or two he’ll come back with his priorities straight again maybe
