But before I could think it through, they made the decision for me.
Early the next morning, a hammering on the bedroom door shook the walls.
"Jade Winfield, get out here!"
I pulled the door open. The only thing I saw was the prenatal exam report in Doris's hand.
"You're pregnant?"
Most grandmothers-to-be would have been overjoyed. Doris looked like she'd found a cockroach in her kitchen.
"This baby has to go."
Keith sat on the sofa, saying nothing. His silence was its own verdict.
"This is my child. You don't get to decide whether it lives or dies."
I loved children. Three years of marriage and nothing had happened, so I'd dragged Ferdinand to a fertility clinic. The doctor diagnosed him with oligospermia. For years I'd been quietly adjusting his diet, slipping supplements into his meals. And now, finally, I was pregnant.
Doris's expression didn't waver.
"You couldn't even get into a four-year college. With an IQ that low, what if the baby takes after you?"
"The Sanchez family has always been a family of scholars. We will not accept mediocre offspring."
"If anyone is going to carry a Sanchez heir, it should be someone like Vera. An elite. Not you."