The news report confirms the death of the missing young miss, Jasmine Clifford whose corpse was found on a cliff burnt beyond recognition and upon further investigation, cause of death was an attempted suicide and a severe fire outburst ...'
The news kept reporting as a young, weak but beautiful girl laying on a hospital bed, opens her eyes with tears dripping down her barely conscious face.
'Is this heaven?', she thought as she stared at the white ceiling with different emotions flashing her still misty eyes while other thoughts flows in.
"As you all know, I am Lancaster Clifford, it was indeed an unfortunate accident, we grief our loss... but we should all learn to live the rest of our lives bearing the pain and hurt of having a missing part of our hearts, as her father, I am very much hurt by this devastating news. I shouldn't have left her side, I should have been....
"As my father said we are very hurt by the sudden news, am Irish Clifford, the Clifford's eldest child and Jasmine's bestfriend.
Jasmine was like a blood sister to me regardless of her and her mom being my dad's.....sobs
I hate you, Jasmine for leaving me all alone, it hurts a lot but I will grief silently and learn to heal. I miss you and I hope her memory remains within us and I dedicate my new song titled 'GOODBYE to her, My bestfriend".
The news showed the new rising star Irish Clifford and her family as she reports to the media.
"Gosh, that awful bitchy attitude, seems like my death finally made her show her true green tea colors, but wait a minute did I really die?, then that corpse?, hahaha, my return will be fun...," She said as she blinked, slowly regaining consciousness, every muscle aching, every nerve humming with pain. Her body was battered, her mind spinning, yet beneath it all, something unshakable had taken root—a quiet, smoldering determination.
Fragments of the past returned: the fire, the chains, Irish's smiles, Leo's careful hands, applause that had never been hers. Memories blurred into each other, but they carried the sting of betrayal, the taste of stolen life.
And then she remembered him—the shadow in the flames, the calm presence amid chaos, the one who had risked everything to pull her from death. She didn't know him. She couldn't know him yet. But a strange warmth, a tethered promise, lingered where he had been.
Days turned into months and months into years, slow and measured, as Jasmine's body healed. She trained herself quietly, muscles rebuilding, voice returning. Her mind sharpened, a hunger for truth growing alongside the physical recovery. And then, finally, she was ready to leave the hospital, stepping into sunlight that felt like rebirth.
It was only then that the layers of her life began to unravel. Secrets long buried rose to the surface. Her savior—her guardian in the basement—was no stranger. He had been a man in love with her mother, a debt of love unpaid until Jasmine's existence demanded it. Her mother had loved him in secret, had carried Jasmine with plans to reveal the truth. But fate, family, and forced marriages had conspired against them. Her mother's untimely death, the manipulations of the Cliffords, the lies that had bound her—all now made sense.
He had saved her, protected her, watched her from the shadows. And yet, she would never see him again. He died after her recovery, leaving behind instructions, assets, and letters revealing the truth of her birth, her mother's love, and the world she had inherited by right.
Upon fully regaining consciousness after months of treatment, Jasmine finally met the man who had arranged everything behind the scenes—her biological father, Devon Cruz.
Devon Cruz was nothing like the powerful men she had known before. His presence was calm yet commanding, his gaze steady as if he had spent years preparing for this moment. It was he who had orchestrated her rescue after the fire, ensuring she survived when the Cliffords believed she had died.
Devon told her the truth about her birth, about the love he once shared with her mother, and about the enemies who had stolen her life.
To protect her from those enemies, Devon gave Jasmine a new identity.
From that moment on, Jasmine Clifford ceased to exist.
She became Ivy Cruz.
Under Devon's guidance, Ivy began rebuilding herself from the ashes of the girl who had nearly died in that burning basement. Determined to reclaim justice for the life that had been stolen from her, she pushed herself relentlessly.
Devon became her mentor and protector. Under his tutelage, Ivy learned to defend herself, to sharpen her mind, and to move through the ruthless world of power and wealth without leaving weakness behind. She studied business, strategy, combat, and survival. The fragile girl who once cried in chains slowly transformed into someone far stronger.
Years passed.
Ivy Cruz rose to new heights under Devon's careful guidance, becoming a woman capable of standing against the very empire that had once destroyed her.
But fate was rarely kind.
Devon eventually fell to a terminal disease.
On a quiet night, as machines hummed softly in the dim hospital room, Ivy sat beside the man who had given her a second life. His breathing had grown weak, but his eyes still carried the same quiet strength.
On his death bed, Devon made one final request.
"Find your brother…"
Those were the last words he entrusted to her before his eyes slowly closed, leaving Ivy alone with a truth far bigger than revenge.
Jasmine's heart ached—not only for what she had endured but for the father she would never know, the mother whose plans had been stolen, and the life that had been rewritten without her consent. Yet, beneath the grief, a fire burned. This was her moment of rebirth, her chance to reclaim what was hers.
She stood at the edge of the city, sunlight warming her skin, wind teasing her hair. The chains of the past had been broken. Every song she had written under duress, every moment of silent suffering, every betrayal—it had forged her into something stronger, sharper, unbreakable.
She whispered to herself, a vow carried by the wind:
"It's been Four years now, Am finally back!,"
Jasmine stepped forward, each footfall a declaration. The world was wide, unpredictable, and dangerous—but she was ready. The phoenix had risen.
Somewhere, in the distance, the city pulsed with life, unaware of the storm about to descend. Jasmine's eyes gleamed with purpose. Every lie would be answered. Every betrayal would face justice. Every flame that had tried to consume her would now fuel her revenge.
The world would learn her name: Jasmine Clifford
"Oops I forgot it's now Ivy Cruz".
The corner of her lips curved slightly, not in humor—but in understanding.
Across the city, the Clifford estate glowed brighter than it ever had. Champagne glasses clinked beneath crystal chandeliers. Investors shook hands. Screens displayed rising numbers in bold green.
Clifford Entertainment stocks had surged by thirty percent within forty-eight hours of the tragic news.
"Public sympathy is powerful," Leonard Clifford said solemnly during a private toast. "Even in loss, we must honor her memory by staying strong."
Strong.
Irish stood beside him in a black silk dress, eyes red from practiced tears. Her tribute song GOODBYE had topped charts overnight, being the death anniversary of her beloved sister. Fans flooded her social media with condolences, calling her a devoted sister, praising the family's resilience.
"She wasn't ours by blood," a distant relative whispered, unaware the microphone near the press table was still live earlier that day. "But we loved her as our own."
The narrative was perfect.
The grieving father.
The broken sister.
The tragic heiress lost too soon.
Years passed but they still mourn.
And the market responded exactly as expected.
Back in the quiet of her recovery suite, Ivy watched the financial report scroll across the screen her father's subordinates had placed before her.
Thirty percent.
Her death had value.
Her pain had profit.
A slow exhale left her lips.
"Celebrate while you can," she murmured, as she glanced at the Clifford's news on her phone.
Because sympathy spikes were temporary.
But calculated revenge?
That was sustainable growth.
And when the market corrected itself—
It would not be in their favor.