Chapter 2: The Price of Being an Ashford
The first thing they took from Elena was her research placement.
It happened on a Tuesday afternoon.
She came home carrying her backpack in one hand and her laptop in the other.
Her face was pale.
“Mom, can we talk?””
I was folding laundry.
“Of course.””
She placed her laptop on the table.
An email was open.
Her clinical research placement had been canceled effective immediately.
The explanation was vague: an administrative review concerning eligibility and institutional compliance.
I read it twice.
“Did they give you a reason?””
“No.””
“Did you speak to your supervisor?””
“He won't answer.””
Elena pulled out a chair.
“He was the one who recommended me. He said my neonatal monitoring project could become part of a real hospital trial.””
I sat beside her.
“Maybe it's temporary.””
She shook her head.
“Mom, they copied the dean on the cancellation.””
I reached for her hand.
“We'll find out what's happening.””
She looked at me.
“Do you think Vivienne did this?””
I didn't answer.
Because I did.
Two days later, the financial aid office sent another email.
Her scholarship had been flagged for an additional eligibility review.
Then a university administrator called to request a meeting.
I arranged my work schedule and accompanied Elena to campus.
The administrator, a man named Mr. Collins, sat behind a polished wooden desk.
He looked uncomfortable.
“Miss Bennett, we have received concerns about your academic standing.””
Elena leaned forward.
“What concerns?””
“Questions regarding your attendance and professional conduct.””
“My attendance record is perfect.””
“We're reviewing the matter.””
“Then show me the report.””
Mr. Collins adjusted his glasses.
“That's not how the process works.””
I placed both hands on the desk.
“My daughter has worked for years to earn her place here. If someone has accused her of something, she deserves to know what it is.””
He looked toward me.
“Mrs. Bennett, I understand this is stressful.””
“No. You understand that I'm asking a question you don't want to answer.””
Elena touched my arm.
“Mom.””
I took a breath.
Mr. Collins finally opened a folder.
“There is also a concern about your pregnancy and whether continuing the program is compatible with the clinical requirements.””
Elena went still.
“My pregnancy doesn't affect my grades.””
“Clinical placements have specific standards.””
“Then tell me which standard I violated.””
He closed the folder.
“We'll contact you when the review is complete.””
Outside, Elena stopped near a stone staircase.
“I'm going to lose everything.””
I held her shoulders.
“No, you're not.””
“Mom, they can take away my scholarship.””
“Then we'll appeal.””
“They can cancel my placement.””
“Then we'll find another one.””
“What if they remove me completely?””
I looked directly into her eyes.
“Then we'll fight them.””
She began crying.
Not loudly.
Just two tears rolling down her cheeks while she tried to keep her voice steady.
“I wanted to be a doctor.””
I pulled her into my arms.
“You still will be.””
That evening, I received another call from Vivienne.
“Mrs. Bennett, I believe you've misunderstood the situation.””
I put the phone on speaker.
“Which situation?””
“My son's future.””
“Your son abandoned a pregnant seventeen-year-old.””
“He made an unfortunate decision.””
“He made a promise to my daughter.””
“Promises made by children are not binding commitments.””
I gripped the kitchen counter.
“Then why are you punishing her?””
“I'm protecting my family.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Your family seems to need a lot of protection from a little girl.””
Her voice turned sharp.
“Be careful, Maria.””
“Or what?””
“Your daughter has a great deal to lose.””
I ended the call.
For several minutes, I stood motionless.
Then I heard Elena behind me.
“Mom?””
I turned.
She was holding her stomach.
“Was that her?””
I nodded.
Elena looked toward the window.
“I'm keeping this baby.””
“I know.””
“And I'm not leaving Harvard.””
“I know that too.””
She swallowed.
“Then I need you to promise me something.””
“What?””
“If things get bad, don't let them convince you I'm a mistake.””
I crossed the room and kissed her forehead.
“You were never a mistake.””
The pregnancy became harder as the months passed.
Elena experienced swelling, exhaustion, and frightening bouts of dizziness.
I took her to every appointment I could afford.
One afternoon, our obstetrician, Dr. Rebecca Miller, examined her and frowned.
“Your blood pressure is higher than I'd like.””
Elena looked nervous.
“Is the baby okay?””
“Right now, the heartbeat is reassuring. But we need to monitor you closely.””
I reached for Elena's hand.
“What does that mean?””
“It means she needs rest, consistent appointments, and immediate evaluation if she develops severe headaches, visual changes, or abdominal pain.””
I nodded.
“Whatever she needs.””
On the way home, Elena stared through the car window.
“Mom, do you think Alex knows?””
“I don't know.””
“Do you think he cares?””
I kept my eyes on the road.
“I think the person who cares will show up.””
She looked down at her stomach.
“Maybe he's scared.””
I wanted to tell her that fear didn't excuse abandonment.
Instead, I said, “You have people who love you, baby.””
She leaned against the seat.
“Sometimes I wish he would just call.””
I didn't tell her that I had already called his old number twenty-seven times.
I didn't tell her that I had sent three letters to the Ashford residence.
And I certainly didn't tell her about the envelope that arrived at our apartment the following week.
Inside was a photograph of Elena entering a prenatal clinic.
Someone had circled her stomach in red ink.
On the back, someone had written:
*A girl like you should know when to disappear.*
I took the photograph to the police.
The officer examined it.
“Do you know who sent this?””
“No.””
“Any idea who might be responsible?””
I hesitated.
Then I mentioned Vivienne.
He sighed.
“Do you have proof?””
“Not yet.””
“Then I suggest you keep your distance from the family and document everything.””
When I returned home, Elena was studying at the kitchen table.
I slipped the photograph into my coat pocket.
She looked up.
“Everything okay?””
I forced a smile.
“Everything's fine.””
She studied my face.
“Mom, don't lie to me.””
I sat beside her.
“Someone sent a photograph. It was meant to frighten us.””
Her pencil stopped moving.
“Who?””
“We don't know.””
She looked down.
“Vivienne.””
“I can't prove that.””
“But you believe it.””
I didn't answer.
Elena closed her textbook.
“I'm going to finish school, Mom.””
I touched her cheek.
“Then that's what we'll do.””
That night, after Elena went to bed, I searched for the Ashford family online.
I found photographs of Vivienne beside university presidents, senators, hospital executives, and famous surgeons.
Then I found a photograph of Alex.
He was standing beside his mother at a charity gala.
He looked healthy.
Relaxed.
Smiling.
The caption said he had recently returned from a private medical research retreat in Switzerland.
My daughter was carrying his child.
And he was attending parties.
I saved the photograph.
Then I noticed something in the background.
A woman standing behind Alex.
She was older, wearing a silver dress.
Her face looked familiar.
I enlarged the image.
It was the same woman who had signed the cancellation notice for Elena's clinical placement.
Her name was Dr. Lorraine Whitmore.
And she was the dean of the private research institute that had suddenly withdrawn Elena's scholarship recommendation.
I stared at the screen.
Why was a university administrator standing beside the Ashford family at a private gala?
And why did she look directly into the camera as though she knew exactly what she was helping them do?
The next morning, I made a decision.
I was going to find out.
May you like
But I didn't know that someone had already found out about me.
And that person was coming to our apartment.
Related Stories
