Lancaster's anger simmered like a pot about to boil over. He paced back and forth in the dimly lit study, his eyes flashing with frustration. Cassidy sat on the couch, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"She's impossible," Lancaster spat, his voice low and venomous. "No matter what I do these past few days, it's never enough. She's like a stone wall, impossible to breach."
Cassidy's eyes sparkled with interest. "You know what needs to happen to obstacles that stands in our way, Lancaster."
Lancaster stopped pacing, his gaze locking onto Cassidy's. "You mean... but?"
Cassidy nodded, her smile slow and deliberate. "We can't let her expose us. We can't let her ruin everything we've worked hard for all these years Las."
Lancaster's jaw clenched. "But how? She's always surrounded by people. And even if we manage to get her alone, she'd never fall for a single trap."
Cassidy's smile grew wider. "Leave that to me. I've got a plan."
As they began to discuss their scheme, Lancaster's anger and desperation fueled their words. They planned to make it look like a car accident, something that would seem like a tragic mistake. No one would suspect a thing.
But Karen was one step ahead. She had always been cautious, always prepared for the worst. And as she lay in bed that night, she knew she had to act fast.
With trembling hands, she called her lawyer, a trusted friend from her family's law firm, Karl Duston. "I need you to transfer my shares to the firm's custody," she said, her voice low and urgent. "I want Jasmine's future protected, no matter what happens to me."
The lawyer's voice was reassuring. "Consider it done, Karen. But what's going on?"
Karen's grip on the phone tightened. "Just do it, please. For Jasmine's sake. And Karl, reach out to him, no matter what, it's time he takes responsibility".
"Mm, I will but Karen you have to be careful too, don't do anything crazy"
" I will try but remember Jasmine comes first, no matter what happens",
"Okay, I will, take care"
"Yeah, You too"
As the transfer was finalized, Karen felt a sense of relief wash over her. She had protected her daughter, protected her empire. But she knew she wasn't safe. Not yet.
And as she looked out the window, she saw Lancaster and Cassidy, still huddled together in the shadows. She knew she had to be careful. Her life depended on it.
The clock ticked away, the minutes ticking closer to the planned "accident". But Karen was ready. Or so she thought.
The days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and the month into years. Karen's death was a tragic accident, one that shook the foundations of the Clifford Empire. Lancaster's grief was palpable, but Cassidy's presence by his side was a constant reminder of their shared secret.
As the dust settled, Lancaster and Cassidy began to put their plan into motion. They had a daughter, Irish, a smart and beautiful girl who had always been fascinated by her father's money and business dealings. Cassidy saw an opportunity.
"Irish, darling, come here," Cassidy said, her voice soft and persuasive. "We need to talk about Jasmine."
Irish's eyes lit up. "Jasmine? late Mrs. Karen's daughter?"
Cassidy nodded. "Yes, sweetie. You two are going to be great friends. And as friends, you'll have to do something very important for Daddy."
Irish's face scratched with curiosity. "What is it?"
Lancaster intervened, his voice gentle. "You see, Irish, Jasmine has something that belongs to us. Something we need you to help us get."
Irish's eyes widened. "What is it?"
Cassidy smiled. "The shares of the Clifford Empire. They're in Jasmine's name now, and we need you to befriend her, to get her to trust you. And when the time is right, we'll take care of the rest."
Irish nodded, her expression determined. She was a part of the plan now, a moment of the plan.
As Irish began to make her move, befriending Jasmine at school, Lancaster and Cassidy watched from the shadows. They were confident, calculating, and ruthless.
But little did they know, Karen had left a surprise behind. A surprise that would change everything.
Irish and Jasmine became fast friends, bonding over their shared interests and similarities. But beneath the surface, Irish was gathering information, feeding it back to her parents.
Lancaster and Cassidy were ecstatic and relaxed and with that they decided to get married.
Sunlight poured through the tall windows of the Clifford estate, spilling golden rays across polished floors and velvet curtains. Jasmine moved gracefully along the hallway, her bare feet barely making a sound on the marble, yet her presence seemed to radiate warmth. The house was alive with laughter and chatter— her father travelling out for business, her stepmom humming a tune while arranging flowers, Irish patting her head like a big sister with a proud smile.
"Jassy, you've really outdone yourself with that script," Irish said, her eyes glinting with disdain hidden beneath admiration as she read the latest draft. "I don't know how you do it. Such brilliance at your age!"
Jasmine's cheeks flushed. "Thank you… I just try my best," she murmured, unaware of the small, calculating glance her stepmom exchanged with Irish across the room.
Happiness flooded her heart, knowing that her hard work was acknowledged and appreciated.
Days passed in a rhythm of structured perfection: lessons in etiquette, hours of songwriting, practice in drama scripts, all punctuated with laughter, compliments, and occasional gifts. At night, she would lie in her bed, listening to the faint echoes of music and chatter from the main hall, feeling the warmth of being wanted, loved, needed after her Mom's death.
Jasmine used to believe she was lucky.
That belief began in Everton High School, a place where music floated through hallways like oxygen and talent, financial worth and reputation was currency. The kind of school parents bragged about and students dreamed of—grand stages, spotless classrooms, and a yearly musical that decided who mattered and who didn't.
Jasmine didn't mattered.
She did before but not anymore, having lost her voice .
She transferred into Everston High School at sixteen, wearing her uniforms and a polite smile that never quite reached her eyes. Her dad had remarried her bestfriend's mom after her Mom's death.
Irish Clifford, the school's sun.
Golden-haired, golden-voiced, adored by teachers and worshipped by students. Wherever Irish went, applause followed. And wherever Irish stood, Jasmine stood quietly behind her—holding scripts, humming melodies, fixing broken notes.
"You're my lucky charm, Jassy," Irish would say, looping arms with her in the hallway. "Promise you'll never leave me."
Jasmine always promised.
What she didn't realize was that promises could be chains.
Behind closed doors, their lives blurred. Late nights in Irish's bedroom turned into writing sessions. Jasmine would sit cross-legged on the floor, scribbling lyrics while Irish paced dramatically.
"No, no, no," Irish would snap. "That line doesn't bleed. Make it hurt."
So Jasmine made it hurt.
She poured grief she didn't understand into verses that made audiences cry. She stitched melodies from loneliness into songs that won competitions. Teachers praised Irish's genius. Judges crowned her queen of the stage.
And Jasmine smiled from the wings.
Leo Edward noticed Jasmine first.
He was the school's quiet prince—student council president, debate champion, admired but distant. Irish introduced him as her "protective older brother," always watching, always calculating.
But Leo watched Jasmine differently.
He listened when she spoke. He asked about her dreams. He defended her when teachers overlooked her contributions.
Facing this tender love, she thrived in her writing, creating a perfect stage queen, Irish Clifford, an around artist.
"You should be on stage too," he once told her after rehearsal.
Jasmine laughed. "I'm not made for the spotlight."
Leo smiled slowly."You will soon"
"Hmm", Jasmine said as she blushed lightly.
The School musical that year was titled Mirror
How ironic.
Jasmine wrote the script and song.
Irish starred in it.
The story was about a girl who lost herself in fame, betrayed yet triumphant after discovering herself.
During rehearsals, Irish sang Jasmine's song and acted with perfect precision, her voice cracking at the right moments, tears falling on cue.
The audience called it authentic.
They had no idea.
Applause thundered on opening night. Flowers filled the stage. The school declared it Everston High's finest production in decades.
Backstage, Irish hugged Jasmine tightly.
"We did it," she whispered.
Jasmine corrected her softly. "You did."
That was the night Leo proposed.
It wasn't flashy. Just a ring slipped onto Jasmine's trembling finger beneath the stage lights as they danced after the crowd dispersed.
"I'll protect you," Leo promised. "Always."
She believed him, her fiance.
The next months were a blur of whispered plans and hidden smiles. Irish celebrated with happiness, throwing surprise parties and insisting on writing "celebration songs" together. Jasmine ignored the growing tightness in her chest.
Until the doors locked.
The basement came first as a "recording room." Then a "quiet place to work." Then a prison.
Irish's smiles sharpened. Leo's eyes grew colder.
Songs were demanded. Scripts were revised. Mistakes were punished.
"You owe us," Irish hissed one night, heels clicking against concrete.
"Your mom ruined our lives, and you will pay for her sins, moreover you were nothing before without us."
Jasmine learned pain had rhythms and patterns.
She learned screams could be swallowed by soundproof walls.
She learned love could rot.
By the time Everton High graduated its brightest star, Jasmine was already gone—erased, buried beneath applause and lies.
And yet…
Even then, in the darkness, Jasmine still dreamed of music, the only source of comfort her mom left her with.
Because fire destroys—but it also forges.
And somewhere deep inside the girl they tried to erase, a phoenix was already stretching her wings.