Chapter 2: The Number on the Application
The bank representative answered after four minutes of waiting.
Dad put the call on speaker and placed his phone on the kitchen counter.
A woman introduced herself as Melissa from the fraud department.
"Mr. Brooks, I understand you're calling about a medical preauthorization request associated with Hannah's account.""
"That's correct," Dad replied.
"My daughter is seventeen. She never requested this procedure. We need to know who submitted it.""
"Of course. For security reasons, I can only discuss certain account details with the authorized account holder.""
Dad looked at me.
"Hannah, tell her she has your permission to discuss the request with me.""
I nodded and gave my consent.
Melissa asked a few verification questions before continuing.
"The request was submitted electronically three days ago. It's currently awaiting identity verification.""
"Who submitted it?"" Dad asked.
"It appears to have been submitted using the patient's personal information.""
"That's my daughter. Who contacted you?""
There was a pause.
"I can confirm that the contact number listed on the request is not the number currently registered to Hannah's account.""
Dad's fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.
"Whose number is it?""
"I can provide the last four digits.""
Melissa read them aloud.
I knew those digits.
I'd seen them hundreds of times on grocery receipts, family messages, and emergency contact forms.
They belonged to Karen.
Dad turned slowly toward her.
"Why is your phone number on my daughter's medical request?""
Karen put down her mug.
"I don't know.""
"That's your number.""
"Maybe someone entered it by mistake.""
I stared at her.
"How would someone accidentally enter your phone number on a surgery request using my name?""
Karen glared at me.
"Don't talk to me like I'm some criminal.""
Dad raised one hand.
"Nobody is accusing anyone yet. We are asking questions.""
He returned to the phone.
"Melissa, can you tell us which clinic submitted the request?""
"Yes. The provider listed is a private cosmetic surgery practice in Atlanta. I recommend that Hannah's account be placed under a fraud alert while we investigate.""
"Do that.""
Melissa explained that the bank would flag the pending request and prevent it from progressing without additional verification.
Dad thanked her and ended the call.
The kitchen fell silent.
Madison was standing near the refrigerator, holding a glass of water with both hands.
I looked at Karen.
"What surgery?""
She shook her head.
"I have no idea what you're talking about.""
"Then why is your number on the request?""
"I already told you. It could be a mistake.""
Dad leaned against the counter.
"Karen, I need you to think very carefully before answering. Did you use Hannah's information to contact that clinic?""
"No.""
"Did you submit anything on her behalf?""
"No, Daniel.""
"Then why does the bank have your phone number?""
Karen's face reddened.
"Maybe because I handle the family's paperwork! I'm the one who organizes insurance documents, school forms, and everything else around here!""
Dad stared at her.
"That still doesn't explain the medical request.""
I suddenly remembered something.
Two weeks earlier, Karen had asked me to leave my Social Security card and insurance information on the kitchen table.
She'd said the school needed updated emergency records.
I'd handed her the documents.
I hadn't thought twice about it.
Now my stomach twisted.
"You asked for my insurance card," I whispered.
Karen looked at me.
"What?""
"Two weeks ago. You said you needed it for school paperwork.""
She immediately shook her head.
"That has nothing to do with this.""
"Then what did you need it for?""
"Because I'm your stepmother, Hannah. I take care of things.""
Dad stepped closer.
"Karen, show me the paperwork you submitted.""
"I don't have it.""
"Then show me the emails.""
She grabbed her phone.
"I don't appreciate being interrogated in my own kitchen.""
Dad's voice became colder.
"Nobody is interrogating you. We're trying to understand why our seventeen-year-old daughter's identity is attached to a cosmetic surgery request.""
Madison suddenly made a small choking sound.
I turned toward her.
"Madison?""
She shook her head quickly.
"Nothing.""
"Do you know something?""
"No!""
Her glass trembled in her hands.
Karen moved toward her.
"Madison, go upstairs.""
"But Mom—"
"Now.""
Madison looked at me.
For one brief second, her expression wasn't angry or spoiled.
It was terrified.
Then she hurried upstairs.
Dad watched her disappear.
"Something is wrong here," he muttered.
I couldn't disagree.
That night, Dad told Karen she wasn't to touch any more of my documents or bank information.
He also changed the passwords on the family computer and helped me secure my email account.
I barely slept.
At 11:43 p.m., my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I opened the message.
*Otherwise, all three of us could lose everything.*
My fingers went cold.
I read it again.
Then another message arrived.
*Ask Karen what happened in Atlanta before you were born.*
I sat upright in bed.
Before I could take a screenshot, my bedroom door opened.
Dad stood there.
"Hannah? Who's texting you this late?""
I handed him the phone.
He read both messages.
His expression went completely blank.
"Don't respond," he said.
"Do you think it's about the surgery?""
"I don't know.""
He stepped into the hallway and called the number back.
It went straight to voicemail.
Then he returned to my room.
"Listen to me. Whatever this is, we're going to find out. But you need to tell me if you remember anything unusual about your personal information.""
I thought about the insurance card.
The Social Security card.
The medical forms.
Then I remembered something else.
A few months earlier, I'd overheard Karen arguing with someone on the phone in the laundry room.
She'd said, "Hannah cannot find out. Not while she's still a minor.""
At the time, I'd assumed it was about something embarrassing involving Madison.
Now I wasn't so sure.
Dad sat on the edge of my bed.
"Your stepmother and I have been married for six years," he said quietly.
"I thought I knew everything about her.""
I looked at him.
"What if you don't?""
He didn't answer.
The following morning, he left early to visit the bank in person.
I went downstairs to get breakfast.
Karen was standing by the kitchen island, holding her phone.
When she saw me, she quickly turned the screen facedown.
"Morning," she said.
I poured myself some water.
"Who sent the medical request?""
Her hand tightened around her phone.
"I don't know, Hannah.""
"Then why are you scared?""
She stared at me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she said something that made my heart stop.
"Because sometimes, knowing the truth can hurt people who don't deserve it.""
I stepped closer.
"What truth?""
Before she could answer, Madison came rushing down the stairs.
Her eyes were swollen.
She was clutching a folded piece of paper.
"Mom," she whispered.
"We can't keep lying.""
Karen spun around.
"Madison, don't.""
But Madison looked directly at me.
And then she said the words I'd been waiting to hear.
"That surgery request wasn't for you, Hannah.""
I stared at her.
"Then whose was it?""
May you like
Madison began to cry.
"It's mine.""
