Shocking! The Oscar-winning actress, Mira Edwards, committed suicide!
The three-time Oscar-winning actress cut her wrists in a hotel on the eve of the award ceremony, causing a sensation throughout the entertainment industry.
The enormous headline dominated the front page of the entertainment section for a week, its heat unabated.
It is reported that because of the enormous work pressure, Mira Edwards had been battling depression and had shown several suicide tendencies.
Interestingly, before going to Los Angeles to receive the award, Mira had a big argument with her mother over a personal matter. She was in a bad mood, and her suicide is suspected to be a recurrence of depression.
With just a few strokes of a pen, half a person's life is painted. After expressing their condolences, the media churns out sensationalizing news.
In a certain apartment in the Central Garden community of Houston, Jane Green looks at the mosaic-processed suicide photo in the newspaper with a hint of derision in his eyes.
Depression and suicide seem like a perfect cause.
Casually putting down the newspaper, Jane looked at heeself in the mirror.
A standard oval face, fair skin, delicate features, attractive peach blossom eyes, full of charm.
Stunning collarbones, full chest, slim waist, long legs – a genuine beauty.
When God kissed her, he must have been incredibly careful. This face, this body, unable to spot any flaw except a hideous pink scar on her left wrist.
Jane raised her hand, her right forefinger and middle finger gently pressed on the scar. Her red lips slightly parted, and she muttered, "Jane, you are really foolish."
Just because she was kicked out of the house, just because she was abandoned by her lover, just because she was a C-list actress plagued by rumors and scandals, was it worth it to seek death?
The cold blade of a fruit knife slicing into the skin, a bathtub of crimson water, ending a young life – truly tragic.
Like an outside observer, Jane in the mirror did not express the pain of heart-wrenching agony, nor did he show the sorrow of a heart death that could be more grievous. He was calm, a calm that was underlined by hatred.
She was no longer the cornered Jane.
The previous Mira Edwards never believed in reincarnation and rebirth.
However, as her blood drained out in a hotel, she opened her eyes again to find that she had become Jane Green. At last, she started to believe that such mysterious events could indeed happen to herself.
She was Mira Edwards, a thrice-crowned Best Actress who had committed suicide in a hotel in Los Angeles a week ago.
Indeed, she had been suffering from depression. However, on the eve of the awards, she was emotionally stable with no hint of any recurrence.
Suicide, she did not like this manner of death.
Fred Stones squinted her eyes. Since fate had given her a second chance to live as Fred Stones, she would embrace it fully and live sincerely.
Her phone suddenly started vibrating. It was her set alarm, reminding her of the banquet at eight o'clock in the evening. She still had an hour to prepare.
Jane pursed her lips and took a deep breath. She opened her wardrobe, revealing a row of pink princess dresses. A slight twitch ran through her lips at the corner as she abandoned the thought of picking out an outfit from these items.
Putting on the most expensive wristwatch in the room to cover the scars on her wrist, she decided to head to the "National Trade Center".
From makeup to gown, she spent half of her savings. While the result was a sight that turned heads, it was worth every penny.
Arriving at the "Blue Tile Water Platform" just in time, Jane tightly clutched the hard-earned invitation in her hands and stepped into the banquet hall, lifting her dress as she walked.
A dazzling blend of lights and shadows, the scent of women’s hair and brilliant attire was a familiar ambiance to her from the high-end banquets she had attended in her previous life, only a bit more luxurious.
She found a corner to sit in, observing the bustling banquet in silence. Among the lively chatters in the hall, she found faces that were familiar to her, but no longer had the right to engage in their conversations.
Suddenly, a commotion came from the entrance, and the star of the banquet finally showed up.
Lionel Richie, the third son of the Lionel Group, a business tycoon, has returned to his homeland in glory.
Like everyone else, Jane looked up and caught sight of a man surrounded by a bevy of bodyguards.
Her heart skipped a beat forcefully as she strived to control her roiling feelings, observing him while toying with the champagne glass in her hand.
His appearance was impeccable, better looking than any male celebrities she has ever seen, tall and trim, with a powerful aura, and steady steps. He scored full marks in every aspect.
Just as she remembered.
After the bodyguards escorted him into the party, he was immediately encircled by people either to flatter him or to exchange pleasantries. He, expressionless, sent them away with just a few words, earning himself a short respite.
After shrugging off many others, Richie finally meets the gaze that had been trained on him since his entrance.
Different from the drooling and admiring eyes, this scrutinizing and defiant gaze successfully drew his attention.
Taken aback for a moment by the face of the woman whose gaze had caught his attention, Lionel Richie locked eyes with Jane Green for three seconds, then casually made his way towards her.
Jane subtly smirked, took the initiative, and clinked glasses with him, "Welcome back, Mr. Lionel."
Richie's penetrating gaze settled on her face, his deep voice resonated coolly, "I am sure I do not know you."
"I did not know you, either, before I came here."Jane felt a twinge in her heart, but she still retorted with a smile. Her languidly half-closed, romantically-inclined eyes were hard to get mad at.
Richie lightly licked his back molars, and mockingly said, "So, does that mean you came for me?"
Jane's gaze swept the room nonchalantly. "Everyone here tonight came for you."
Look, Lionel Richie had only exchanged a few words with her, and she had already received hostile looks from no fewer than ten women.
Richie's gaze deepened, interestedly said, "Then you should let me know, how do you stand out among them?"
He dislikes crafty women, yet she, seemingly, had a knack for finding the perfect balance between mischief and deceit.
Jane Green leaned slightly forward, her deep V designed dress revealed a large portion of her pale skin, a sight for sore eyes, which all seemed to fall within Richie's line of sight.
She said, "Richie, this is not the place to talk."
Her warm sweet breath sprayed upon his ear. Subtle yet enchanting fragrance penetrated Richie’s nostrils, causing a momentary trance.
From the moment she entered the door, this woman’s intent was hard to decipher—Richie presumed an exception who was not interested in sharing his bed. Yet her current demeanor seemed more than eager.
A touch of ridicule flashed in Richie's profound eyes. Reclining on the sofa, he lazily said, "If you're just like them, you’re sorely mistaken."
Jane's beautiful eyes curved, her tone with slight sarcasm: "Does Richie know what I am up to?"
Richie’s eyes narrowed with a hint of displeasure. Who did she think she was? Daring to mock him?
In her past life, having struggled in the entertainment industry for over ten years, Jane had become quite adept at reading people.
Noticing Richie's displeasure, she immediately pouted, revealing an innocent smile. "I was joking. Are you angry, Richie?"
Carrying the upper hand, Richie felt choked up, staring at her intensely.
Compellingly, Jane chose this moment to stand up. She pulled out a business card from her handbag, lightly pressing it against her lips, imprinting a lipstick mark, then slipped it into Richie's suit pocket. Seductively, she licked her lips.
"Richie, I will be waiting for you."
