The phone rang at 3:47 am, and
a voice spoke inside my head even before I picked it up. Late-night rings never brought peace. My shaking fingers stretched toward the phone as I rested beside the bed.
Small, discrete, bright components of images stabbed my wide open eyes.The black walls of the room were closing in around me in that small place I rented near the river.
I heard a woman's voice, "Miss Bennett", professional and carefully neutral, she quietly went straight to the point. "This is Mount Sinai Hospital. I'm calling about your father, Richard Bennett."
Something felt wrong, she said, but I struggled to ask her what was really happening.
"I'm very sorry to inform you that your father was brought in by ambulance approximately two hours ago. He suffered a massive heart attack. The doctors did everything they could, but - -"
Everything she said faded into silence. He was gone, my father.
Hanging up, the phone slipped through my fingers and getting dressed, immediately lent wings to my feet as I swiftly booked a ride.
Gone too soon, was what haunted me as I walked through the cold hallways.
As soon as I sighted a door ahead, my feet got stuck, refusing to move forward.
I found Tori coming my way to break the silence. His jog kicked up dust near the path. With sandy, grayish white hair, very fair in complexion and light blue eyes, his hair strands stuck out on his head.
He wore his Columbia hoodie inside-out, though twenty-two,yet right then, he seemed much younger.
Panic stretched across his face, with eyes too big, too open, like someone who had misplaced everything.
"They called me too," he said breathlessly. "Tell me it's a mistake. Tell me dad's okay," he sought assurance.
My voice vanished, with head down, a slow shake took over,all I stared at , were no longer enchanting, however, I plucked up courage and moved on.
Falling apart, Tori dropped, we went down,and of course , his weight as heavy as mine kept us steady by the chill of the tiles behind. As tears soaked through my shirt while his fingers gripped me tight. Quietly, salt water traced my cheek, lost in strands near his neck.
Three days went by fast,laden with filling out forms, talking on the phone, yet handling what needed to be done after death.
Meanwhile, dad's place stayed untouched - mug beside the sink, newsprint laid out on wood, spectacles closed neatly nearby. Sorting through items made us uneasy, almost as if stepping where we didn't belong.
Faint light glowed from the screen, hitting her tired eyes. Tori spoke without turning, voice flat. The number on display meant nothing now. Her father sat motionless nearby, drained. Sleep hadn't come easy since the news arrived. A silence stretched between them, heavy. Money for burial costs - it slipped through their fingers like sand
That's something I can handle. Saying it more often these days.
Only a few people attended. Some of Dad's former coworkers appeared, said empty things, then left in a rush. Thank goodness Marcus was there. At the edge of the grave, he stayed close, his palm firm on my shoulder while the coffin disappeared below.
The box sank down, I just stood there empty. A weight pressed hard inside me, grief real and deep, yet frozen - like stone buried under silence.
It was there - my eyes caught sight of him.
Out near the edge of things, a figure kept his distance from the others, half out of sight behind an old oak. Roughly fifty feet off, he wore a dark suit - fancy enough to match a month's pay. Towering and still, there was something heavy in how he watched. From where I stood, that gaze pressed like weather on skin.
That one?" I asked Marcus, voice low.
He followed my gaze and frowned. "No idea. You want me to ask him to leave?"
Just as words formed on my tongue, he pivoted, striding off without another sound, slipping through rows of stone markers as if night itself pulled him under.
My skin prickled with cold fear. The air turned sharp, suddenly. Goosebumps rose without warning. A silent wave passed through me. Cold crept up from below.
A couple of days passed before I found myself at my father's place with Tori, going through cardboard containers. A knock came just as we were pulling things out.
A middle-aged man sat there, wearing a costly gray suit. His hair had turned silver, maybe from age or stress. A leather briefcase rested beside him, gripped tightly. The smile he gave felt empty, like it stayed on the surface. Years seemed to weigh behind his eyes, hidden under polished charm.
"Miss Bennett? I'm Robert Chen, attorney for Cross Technologies. May I come in?"
That name rang a bell. Connected somehow to my father's final project - the property move meant to rescue his crumbling firm.
The door opened before I could stop myself. A cold weight settled deep inside me.
Mr. Chen sat at our father's kitchen table, opened his briefcase, and pulled out a stack of documents. "I'm sorry to intrude during this difficult time, but there's a matter that requires immediate attention. Your father entered into a business agreement with my client, Damien Cross, eighteen months ago. The partnership dissolved six months later after significant losses. Your father signed a personal guarantee for the investment."
"What does that mean?" Tori asked.
Mr. Chen's expression didn't change. "It means your father owed Mr. Cross fifty million dollars. The debt is now part of his estate, which means it falls to his heirs." He looked directly at me. "The payment is due immediately."
The room tilted. "Fifty million? That's impossible. We don't have - "
"I understand. Mr. Cross is aware of your financial situation." Mr. Chen slid a business card across the table. "He'd like to meet with you. Tomorrow evening. Seven o'clock. The address is on the card."
The card sat there, sleek and dark. His name appeared: Damien Cross. Numbers followed - just a phone line. Then letters formed a place, somewhere in Manhattan.
"What if I don't come?"
Mr. Chen stood, collecting his briefcase. "Then Mr. Cross will be forced to pursue legal action to collect the debt. That would include seizing all assets, bank accounts, and properties connected to your father's estate." His eyes flicked to Tori. "Including any funds set aside for education."
Fear drained the color from Tori's skin.
My fingers trembled as I stared at the small rectangle of paper he had handed me moments before walking out the door.
Everything we had left - that's what Damien Cross wanted.
Fate stepped in the next day, bringing me face to face with someone who decided everything. That moment changed how I saw time.
End of Chapter One.