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.”
Something inside my chest seemed to split open.
“There are other options,” Dr. Collins said, his voice sharper now. “State support, Medicaid, charity care—”
“We are not taking charity,” my mother suddenly said, her voice full of offended pride. “What would people think?”
Dr. Collins stared at them. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
My father answered without shame.
