Ch19 - Poor Ashford

At Ashford Biotech, a few board members had arrived early for the meeting and were chatting casually around the conference table.

“Did you guys see the latest market report? A small startup just beat us to it. Their imaging algorithm runs twice as fast and is two percent more accurate than ours.”

“You mean Medi AI? I’ve been keeping an eye on them since last year. They’re using artificial intelligence in diagnostics—reading medical scans faster and more precisely than any existing system. It’s a total game changer.”

That immediately caught the others’ attention. “Yeah, I’ve heard a few doctors talking about them too. But does anyone actually know who owns that company?”

They all looked around at each other and shook their heads.

Weird. A company that type would need serious funding—probably old money or pharma connections—but somehow nobody knew where the hell it came from.

After a pause, someone suggested, “Could it be the Winthrops? Their hospital group would kill for that kind of tech.”

Another exec quickly dismissed it. “Nope. Word is, they tried to buy Medi AI and got completely ignored. Whoever runs it clearly doesn’t need the money.”

“Cocky as hell,” one of them scoffed. “Most startups dream of cashing out once they’ve got a working product.”

“Exactly. So whoever’s behind it must already be loaded. Probably keeping the tech for some bigger play.”

“Hey, the Winthrop girl’s about to marry into the Ashford family, right? Maybe we’ll be the ones negotiating that deal soon.”

Just then, another board member returned from taking a call and asked what the excitement was about. After hearing the gist, he nodded knowingly. “Medi AI’s officially owned through a trust, so no one can trace the real owner. But I did hear…”

“Heard what? Come on, don’t keep us hanging!”

“That the person behind it is under thirty.”

The room filled with murmurs of surprise.

“Under thirty? That’s insane. To build something like that in just three years?”

The corporate elite circle wasn’t that big, and as they mentally scanned through all the heirs, prodigies, and founders they knew, no one seemed to fit the bill.

Then, with a snicker, one of them muttered, “You see, some people start empires before thirty, and others just waste their days drinking and screwing around—born rich, no drive whatsoever.”

“Yeah, what a waste of good genes. Poor old Ashford—neither of his grandsons turned out well. Especially that Julian kid. Word is, he’s slumming it in the marketing department. Can’t even handle a mid-level manager role.”

A few heads shook in quiet disdain.

“At least Marcus has done something over in strategy,” another said, though without much conviction. “Still better than a spoiled drunk.”

The room fell abruptly silent as the door opened. A poised woman with perfect makeup stepped in—Serena.

Serena smiled graciously, greeting them all. Everyone in the room instantly sat up straighter, trading looks before smoothly switching the subject.

——

Serena rarely spent time at the company—only showing up for board meetings. The rest of her days were filled with brunches, shopping trips, garden parties, and the occasional overseas getaway. She managed her late husband’s estate, kept up with the social circuit, and lived a life most women could only dream of.

Her only real headache lately? Julian. He’d started acting just a bit too… unpredictable.

After the board meeting, she slid into the back seat of her car. Her assistant, Rose, sat beside her—straight-backed, tablet in hand.

“Per your instructions,” Rose began crisply, “the donation’s been made to the designated charity fund. And those art pieces you had your eye on—they’ve been purchased and are being prepped for shipment overseas next month.”

Serena hummed softly. “Good.”

“One more thing—Mr. Lopez asked if you’d have time to meet with him.”

“Aaron Lopez? The one in fashion?” Serena frowned.

 “WHAT does he want this time? Don’t tell me it’s another favor about doctors or fertility treatments. His wife’s health issues aren’t my problem. If he keeps throwing money at every clinic in the country, he’ll eventually find someone who’ll tell him what he wants to hear.”

Rose offered a cautious smile. “Maybe he assumes our ties to the medical world mean we have inside connections.”

Serena gave a low laugh, cold and sharp. “Well, tell him he’s asking the wrong person. If I had that kind of pull, I wouldn’t still be childless myself.” Her voice softened at the end, followed by a quiet sigh.

“Please don’t say that, ma’am,” Rose replied gently. “It was never your fault. The Ashford family’s genes are… complicated. If not for that, you’d have a child by now. You were the one who suffered from their mistakes.”

Serena didn’t respond right away. 

Rose had been with her since she married into the Ashford family—over twenty years. Rose’d watched the once-sweet, naïve young bride harden into a woman of steel, calculating and self-protective. The miscarriage had changed everything.

“Enough,” Serena said finally, brushing off the thought like dust. “Let’s talk about my dear son. Other than the two screw-ups in marketing, how’s he doing?”

Rose adjusted her posture. “Julian’s been keeping regular hours, nine to six. Other than that, nothing unusual. Oh—and he’s recently opened a Hookah Lounge with a few friends.”

She handed over a folder.

Serena skimmed the contents, then let out a faint, disdainful laugh. “A lounge. Of course. The boy’s hopeless. Every cent of allowance he gets, he throws into nonsense like this. If I didn’t manage his dividends and the assets his father left him, he’d have burned through it all by now.”

Rose nodded silently. Serena never bothered to hide her opinions around her.

“Did you see those men’s faces earlier?” Serena sneered. “Talking trash about Julian one minute, then shutting up the second I walk in. I almost wish they’d kept going—it’s entertaining watching them squirm.”

Rose smiled. “You’ve built quite the image of a devoted mother. None of them dare say a bad word about Julian in front of you. But behind your back, they’ve all heard he mixed up two market model datasets. It wasn’t a huge mistake, but it spread through the company fast.”

Serena scoffed. “Good thing they only made him a mid-level manager. If he held a higher position, he’d have bankrupted us by now.”

The car slowed to a stop in front of a private cosmetic clinic. Serena pulled down the mirror and checked her reflection, perfecting a strand of hair.

“Anything else?” she asked absently.

Rose hesitated. “Yes. There’s something about Julian’s wife, Violet. Her families have been trying to find her.”

“Oh?” Serena arched a brow. “I thought she was an orphan. Didn’t see a single soul from her side at the wedding.”

“It’s her aunt and uncle—the ones who raised her. I’ve been keeping tabs, as you asked. They don’t seem to work much and spend most of their time around the hospital. At first, I thought they were harmless, but yesterday they visited a man named Mr. Hill. They left in tears—well, the uncle left looking like he’d been beaten to a pulp.”

“Hill,” Serena repeated thoughtfully. “Interesting… So they don’t know she married Julian.” Her lips curved into a sly smile. “Left on their own, they’ll never find her. Let’s give them a little… push.”

Rose nodded, instantly understanding. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of it.”