My father laughed once, harsh and empty. “So we’re supposed to pay a hundred grand because she got sick?”
“Richard,” my mother murmured, still not looking at me.
Dr. Collins’ face tightened. “I understand this is overwhelming, but Emily’s prognosis is very good. If we begin treatment immediately, she has a strong chance of recovering and living a normal life.”
My father shook his head. “Ashley is applying to colleges next year. Harvard. Stanford. She scored 1520 on her SAT. We’ve saved for her education since she was born.”
A cold heaviness settled in my stomach.
Dr. Collins looked from my parents to me, and for the first time, his professional calm cracked.
“Perhaps we should discuss financial matters privately,” he said carefully. “Emily does not need to hear—”
“Emily needs to understand reality,” my father snapped. Then he looked at me, really looked at me, and there was nothing warm in his eyes. No fear for me. No protection. Only calculation. “We have one hundred and eighty thousand dollars in Ashley’s college fund. That money is for her future. We’re not throwing it away on medical bills.”
