Chapter 2
"Yes, but we assumed you would tell us if it was serious."
"She's in intensive care, Dad."
"Well, children get sick."
I stopped breathing for a second.
Then I said, very quietly, "Don't ever contact me about money again."
He started shouting.
I ended the call.
And for the first time in my life, hanging up on my father didn't make me feel guilty.
It made me feel free.
But that freedom lasted exactly eleven minutes.
Because when I checked my email, I discovered they had already gone much further than asking for my help.
They had tried to use my identity.
The email came from a lending company I'd never contacted.
Your application is incomplete.
At first, I thought it was spam.
Then I saw my full legal name.
My address.
My date of birth.
And the last four digits of my Social Security number.
My stomach turned cold.
Someone had started an eighteen-thousand-dollar personal loan application using my information.
The application wasn't complete because the lender required additional identity verification.
The verification request had been sent to my email.
That was the one thing my parents hadn't anticipated.
Years earlier, when I'd helped Dad apply for disability benefits, I'd given him copies of documents containing information he needed for the forms.
I'd trusted him.
Apparently, he'd kept them.
I stared at the screen, trying to understand how the people who raised me could calmly gamble with my financial future while my daughter lay in a hospital bed.
Then Andrea returned.
She found me sitting perfectly still, phone in my hand.
"Are you okay?"
I tried to answer.
Instead, I started crying.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just tears falling so steadily that I couldn't stop them.
Andrea pulled a chair beside me.
And when I finally explained, she listened without interrupting.
Then she said something I'll never forget.
"Your daughter needs you healthy, too. Whatever they're demanding, it can wait."
I shook my head.
"No. This can't wait. They've already tried to take out a loan in my name."
Andrea's expression changed.
"Then you need to protect yourself."
She helped me find the hospital social worker, who gave me a quiet room where I could make calls without disturbing Layla.
I contacted the lending company.
I told them I had never authorized the application.
I asked them to flag it as suspected identity theft.
Then I placed security freezes on my credit reports and began documenting everything.