No one could have predicted that Mirabelle would face her defeat with such composure, her attitude almost brazen in its calmness.
But when the staff came to take her microphone, a fleeting shadow of well-measured sadness crossed her eyes—there one moment, gone the next.
She glanced up at Joanna on stage and, in that instant, understood everything.
Mirabelle was the epitome of grace under fire.
Even when everyone could see she'd been robbed of her award, she stood tall, dignified—never losing her cool, never stooping to anger.
On stage, Joanna could barely maintain her composure.
She had underestimated this quiet, unassuming woman.
Who would have thought Mirabelle was so deeply calculating?
She'd deceived everyone—including Joanna herself.
Meanwhile, the live broadcast was setting the internet ablaze.
[Mirabelle doesn't owe you anything! If you want to watch some rigged drama about the darling trophy wife, go right ahead!]
[Don't cry, sweetie. We'll always stand by your side!]
[Damn! Whatever I thought before, right now my heart breaks for Mirabelle!]
Mirabelle's fans launched a full-blown online campaign.
Even bystanders began to feel for her.
[Joanna's been around for years, and her acting is still the same old routine. Does she really need to cling to roles that should've gone to someone younger just to stay relevant?]
[Don't talk nonsense about her!]
[Then explain this—what entitles her to win Best Actress for a third-string supporting role?]
That pointed question left Joanna's fans speechless.
They could brag about their idol's talent all they wanted, but deep down, doubts lingered.
Everyone knew the stories about Joanna and Chester.
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