The phone rang at 3:47 AM, cutting through the quiet of my small flat like a stone through glass. My heart beat hard as I reached for the phone, sure that no good news would come at this time.

"Izzy?" Richard's shaky voice came through, and I froze. He was my dad's best friend, the one who taught me to ride a bike, always there for my birthdays. Richard Thorne was not a man who shook.

"What's wrong?" My voice came out rough.

"Your dad... there's been an accident."

It felt like the room spun around me. The books on my desk turned into a blur, and my eyes narrowed. "What kind of accident?"

"A car crash. He's..." Richard paused; his voice broke. "He's gone, dear. I'm so, so sorry."

The phone fell from my hand, hitting the floor. This couldn't be real. Not now, when I was about to finish school, about to make him proud. Dad was meant to be there for so many things—walking me down the aisle, meeting his grandkids—

"Izzy? Are you there?"

I pressed my hands to my eyes, trying to stop the huge wave of sadness from taking me over. "How?"

"He was going home from work. A late night at the site. The cops said he fell asleep driving." Richard's tone was firmer. "I'm sorting out everything. You don't have to worry."

But I was worried about it all. About Mom, deep in sadness for months. About Grace, still with two years of med school left. About the bills, the house loan, the heavy load of a future now falling apart.

"I need to come home," I whispered.

"I'm on my way to get you. Pack light."

The drive back to my childhood home was all tears and kind words from Richard. He checked on me in the mirror, his grey eyes kind but something else too—something unsettling.

"Your dad was a great man," he said as my old home came into view. "He loved you more than anything."

Mom was at the door, looking worn down, her dark hair dull. Grace was there too, still in her hospital clothes, both crushed by loss.

"I should have been here," I said as we hugged.

"There's nothing you could have done," Mom said, soft against me. "Nothing any of us could."

But that wasn't true. If I had made him stop working, if I had helped more, if I had been here—not in the city... Guilt weighed down on me, solid and hard.

Richard stayed for dinner, helping us plan what to do now. How to say goodbye, who to call, what had to be done. He was good at it, yet his quick moves and firm choices felt off.

"The viewing is tomorrow," he finished, shutting his folder. "I've talked to Henderson's Funeral Home. They'll take good care."

"Thank you," Mom said emptily. "What would we do without you?"

Richard's smile was kind. "You're like family. I'll always help."

When he left, I walked him out. The cool October air smelt of old leaves and came cold. The world seemed all new, all different.

"Izzy." Richard put a hand on my arm. I wanted to pull away. "We need to talk shop."

"What about?"

"Your dad's business, the house, Grace's school costs." His tone was soft, but his eyes were intense. "Money is tight."

I felt a chill. "What do you mean?"

"The company was having a hard time. Your father put the house up against it to keep it going. And Grace's school..." He looked sad. "It's a mess, more than your mom knows."

"How bad?"

"Without your dad's money, you'll lose the house in eight weeks. Grace will have to drop out from school. And your mom..." He waved toward where she sat lost in thought. "She can't work."

The weight of it all hit me like a wall. Everything I had worked for meant nothing if I lost my family.

"There must be some way," I breathed. "Insurance, savings, anything."

Richard was quiet, looking deep into my eyes. When he spoke, his voice was calm.

"There might be a way to save your family, Izzy. But it will need... a big sacrifice.”