I laughed nervously because denial was easier than believing my family had stolen my identity.
I told Ethan there had to be a mistake.
He did not argue.
He simply began investigating.
Now, standing in my foyer, my mother stared at the folder.
“What do you mean our names are connected?”
She entered the house without waiting for permission.
Her sandals clicked sharply against the wooden floor.
My father and Julian followed her inside and closed the door.
I did not step backward.
“When the rejection letter arrived, Ethan did not treat it like an administrative error,” I explained. “He followed the digital trail.”
Julian leaned against the doorway.
“Maya, we don’t have time to listen to stories about Ethan’s paranoia. The state could suspend my restaurant’s liquor license by Friday. We need forty thousand dollars to clear the immediate debt.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You already received Ethan’s life-insurance payment. Stop acting as though you have no money.”
