The Price of Ashbourne

Chapter One

The alarm clock rang at 4:17 a.m. Elena’s hand found her phone before the second ring. She silenced it with a swipe of her thumb and let her hand fall back onto the mattress, but she didn’t move. For a few seconds she lay there with her eyes closed, listening. The apartment should have been awake by now.

Mrs. Gomez downstairs was usually the first. Every weekday she chased her son from one room to another until his name became part of the building’s morning soundtrack.

“Daniel! If you’re not dressed in thirty seconds…”

Somewhere above, Mr. Lucas’s old television would soon begin its daily battle with static. By the time it finally settled on a channel, Elena would already be brushing her teeth. This morning there was nothing—no footsteps, no shouting, no television. The silence lingered long enough to make her open her eyes.

A thin crack stretched across one corner of the ceiling. She had looked at it so many mornings that she could have traced its shape from memory. Seven years. That was how long she’d been waking before the alarm. It had started with thirteen minutes—thirteen minutes that had made her miss the 5:00 bus. She could still picture herself running across the pavement with her portfolio pressed against her chest, arriving at Morrison & Wells just in time to watch another applicant step out of the interview room. She had spent four months preparing for that interview and revised her portfolio three times. All of it had come down to one morning she couldn’t get back. She hadn’t trusted mornings since.

Elena pushed the blanket aside and sat on the edge of the bed. The floor felt cool beneath her feet. As she reached for the cardigan draped over the chair, her gaze drifted across the apartment—the kitchen first, then the narrow hallway, before settling on the dining table. A collection of envelopes sat in a neat pile beneath the weak yellow light above the table. They were exactly where she’d left them. She walked over and rested her fingertips on the top one without picking it up.

Hospital, Rent, Electricity, School fees. She let the stack slip back onto the table. For a moment she simply stood there, her hand resting against the worn wood. She turned one of the envelopes over in her hand but didn’t open it. She already knew what it contained.

A few days ago Mia had stood in this same spot, staring at the pile.

“You’re still here?” Mia asked.

Elena laughed. “Where else would I be?”

Mia didn’t smile. “I’m serious, Elena. This apartment is falling apart.” Her eyes travelled around the room, taking in the peeling paint, the damp patch spreading across the ceiling, and the window that never quite closed. “You deserve better than this.”

Elena’s fingers tightened around the envelope. Maybe she did. Still, she looked around the apartment. The walls had faded over the years. The cupboards had seen better days. Even the dining table leaned slightly to one side. None of it mattered. This was home.

Her gaze settled on the wall beside the hallway. The paint had been touched up over the years, but if you looked closely you could still make out faint pencil marks beneath it. Her father used to stand her against that wall every birthday.

“Don’t move,” he’d say, pretending to frown whenever she stretched onto her toes.

She always laughed. He’d lower the pencil, mark the wall, then step back with a satisfied nod.

“Another inch.”

Like it was the greatest achievement in the world. A smile tugged at the corner of Elena’s mouth before it faded again. He’d made this place feel bigger than it was, safer than it was. When he came home with the keys, he’d lifted her clean off the ground and grinned like he’d won the lottery.

“This is ours, at least for now.”

She hadn’t understood why he looked so happy. Not then. She did now. Her fingers brushed the edge of the dining table. The wood was worn smooth in places from years of hands resting there—her father’s, her mother’s, hers. She drew in a quiet breath and headed to the bathroom. She had a day to get through first.

A few minutes later she was dressed for work. She reached for her keys, but her hand stalled when her eyes fell on the photograph beside them. The picture had been taken on her graduation day. Her father stood beside her, one arm around her shoulders, smiling so broadly it was impossible to tell which of them had earned the degree.

“My daughter,” he’d told anyone willing to listen. “The architect.”

The word still caught somewhere inside her. She traced the edge of the frame with her thumb before slipping the keys into her palm. She took one last look around the apartment, then pulled the door shut behind her.

The bell above the café door chimed as she stepped inside. The morning rush was already in full swing. Conversations overlapped across the room, cups clinked against saucers, and the espresso machine hissed somewhere behind the counter. The familiar scent of roasted coffee wrapped around her the moment she walked in.

Marcus looked up from the espresso machine and gave her a quick once-over. He frowned thoughtfully.

“You look tired, Elena.”

Elena smiled as she tied her apron around her waist. “You know I barely sleep.”

“You should consider taking only night shifts.”

“And then what happens? You place me on an allowance?”

They both laughed.

“I could, actually. I could.”

“In your dreams.”

They laughed again.

“You’re keeping your customers waiting,” Elena said.

Marcus turned just in time to see a woman waving impatiently with an empty cup. “Right…” He winced. “I’d better go rescue my tip.” He hurried back behind the counter.

Elena was still smiling when her phone vibrated in the pocket of her apron. She slipped it out and glanced at the screen.

Ethan.

"Morning, beautiful. Don’t forget you’re coming over after work. I’ve got dinner covered."

The corners of her mouth lifted. She typed back with one hand.

"Should I be worried?"

His reply came almost immediately.

"Only if the smoke alarm starts screaming before you get there."

A soft laugh escaped her.

"Order takeout."

"Already did." 

She slipped her phone back into her apron just as another customer stepped up to the counter. The rest of the morning disappeared into a blur of coffee orders and half-finished conversations. The espresso machine hardly stopped hissing. Cups clinked against saucers. Names were called out, drinks remade, receipts handed over. Every time the line grew shorter, another wave of customers seemed to appear from nowhere. By early afternoon, Elena had stopped looking at the clock.

She was reaching for a lid when her phone vibrated again. Without thinking, she smiled.

“Ethan, you really don’t know when to—”

The words died before they left her mouth. The screen read: St. Mary’s Hospital. Her fingers tightened around the phone. For a second she turned pale. Everything around her carried on as though nothing had happened. Marcus was apologising to a customer whose latte had too much foam. Someone laughed near the window. The coffee grinder roared to life. Elena stared at the screen until it buzzed again. She answered.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Hart?” The voice was calm. “This is Nurse Juliet from St. Mary’s Hospital. I’m calling about your mother.”

Elena’s hand found the edge of the counter. “What happened?”

“She’s been admitted this morning. The doctor would like to speak with you as soon as possible.”

The café faded into the background.

“I’m on my way.”

She ended the call before the nurse could say anything else. For a heartbeat she stood perfectly still. Then she untied her apron as she crossed the café, grabbed her bag from the staff room, and headed for the door.

Marcus looked up. “Elena?”

She was already outside.

Rain hit the pavement just as she reached the street. Within seconds, it came down in heavy sheets. People scattered beneath shop awnings. Umbrellas sprang open in every direction, but Elena had none. She had thought about buying one a couple of times, but umbrellas were luxuries she couldn’t afford. She clutched the hem of her jacket and kept running. Water soaked through her blouse and weighed down her hair. Her shoes slipped against the pavement as she cut across the street, barely noticing the horns that followed. A curb caught her foot. She stumbled, caught herself against a lamppost, and pushed forward again. By the time St. Mary’s came into view, she was drenched. She hurried through the hospital doors, leaving a trail of rainwater behind her.

“I’m here for Camila Hart,” she told the receptionist.

The woman barely looked up as she typed. “Fourth floor. Room 412.”

Elena turned before the sentence was finished. The elevator doors were still closed, so she took the stairs. Room 412 stood half open. She slowed only when she reached the doorway. For a moment she simply looked. The woman lying in the bed hardly resembled the one Elena remembered dancing around the kitchen with the radio turned up, laughing whenever the children joined in. Now her mother looked small beneath the white blanket. Too small.

Elena stepped inside. The oxygen tubing rested beneath her mother’s nose. An IV disappeared beneath the sleeve of her hospital gown. Without thinking, Elena pulled the blanket a little higher over her shoulder before taking the chair beside the bed. Only then did she notice someone standing behind her.

“Ms. Hart?”

She turned.

“I’m Dr. Mabel. I’m afraid your mother’s condition has worsened. The medication isn’t working anymore.”

Silence settled between them.

“What happens now?” Elena asked.

Dr. Mabel took a slow breath. “She needs a kidney transplant.”

Elena’s eyes dropped to her mother’s hand. Her wedding ring had become loose enough to slide against her knuckle.

“We’ve placed her on the waiting list,” Dr. Mabel continued. “But I need to be honest with you… the wait could be longer than your mother has.”

Elena swallowed. “How long?”

“A few weeks.”

The words hung between them.

“But there is another option,” the doctor said gently. “We can test close family members to see if anyone is a match.”

“Test me.” The answer came before Dr. Mabel had finished speaking.

The doctor held her gaze. “This isn’t a decision you have to make today.”

“It is.” Elena’s voice barely rose above a whisper. “If I’m a match… she gets my kidney.” She looked down at her mother’s hand and wrapped both of hers around it.

Dr. Mabel watched her for a long moment before giving a quiet nod. “I’ll have the transplant team begin the evaluation.”

When the doctor left, the room fell silent again. Elena stayed where she was, rubbing slow circles across the back of her mother’s hand while listening to the quiet rhythm of the machines beside the bed. Outside the window, the rain continued to fall. Elena looked at her mother and smiled weakly.

“Hi, Mama.” Her voice caught. “I’m here.”

Nothing.

The heart monitor beeped quietly.