Chapter 4 - The Debt in My Name
I couldn't understand what Dad was saying.
A loan?
In my name?
I had never applied for one.
I barely used my credit card.
I was terrified of debt.
Dad placed the call on speaker after confirming the representative's identity.
The woman explained that a personal loan application had been submitted using my information several months earlier.
The amount was fifteen thousand dollars.
My stomach dropped.
"That's impossible."
The representative asked whether I had authorized the application.
"No."
My voice sounded distant.
"I never applied for that."
She explained the next steps for reporting suspected identity theft and disputing the account.
Dad wrote everything down.
When the call ended, he turned toward me.
"Jordan, do you know anything about this?"
I shook my head.
"Nothing."
He looked devastated.
"I don't understand how your information was used."
Then I remembered something.
Six months earlier, Denise had asked for a copy of my driver's license.
She claimed she needed it for the family's insurance records.
A week later, she asked me to confirm my Social Security number.
I questioned her.
She became angry.
"Jordan, I'm trying to handle important paperwork. Stop being difficult."
I trusted her.
So I gave her the information.
Now, sitting beside my father, I felt sick.
"Dad..."
He looked at me.
"I gave Denise my personal information."
His expression changed.
"When?"
I told him everything.
He covered his face.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he stood.
"We need professional help."
That afternoon, we met with an attorney named Sarah Mitchell.
Sarah specialized in civil disputes and financial fraud matters.
She listened carefully while I explained the rent payments, the disputed agreement, and the loan application.
She didn't interrupt.
When I finished, she asked one question.
"Jordan, did you ever authorize Denise or anyone else to borrow money using your identity?"
"No."
"Did you receive any of the funds?"
"No."
She nodded.
"Then we need to document your dispute immediately."
She explained that the application itself did not prove who had submitted it.
We would need records.
Electronic signatures.
Account information.
Disbursement details.
And evidence showing who benefited.
I appreciated her honesty.
I didn't want guesses.
I wanted the truth.
Sarah helped me prepare an identity-theft report and contact the lender's fraud department.
She also recommended obtaining my credit reports and freezing my credit while the matter was investigated.
Dad offered to pay the legal expenses.
I hesitated.
"That's a lot of money."
He looked at me.
"Jordan, you've carried enough."
I finally nodded.
"Okay."
When we returned home, Denise was waiting.
Her suitcase stood beside the front door.
She looked furious.
"Marcus, are you seriously making me leave?"
Dad remained calm.
"I've arranged for us to live separately temporarily while we resolve this."
She pointed at me.
"All because of him?"
I stepped behind Dad.
He noticed.
His expression hardened.
"Don't point at my son like that."
Denise laughed bitterly.
"Your son. Your precious Jordan."
Dad took a breath.
"Denise, did you apply for a fifteen-thousand-dollar loan using Jordan's information?"
Her face changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
"What are you talking about?"
Dad repeated the question.
She shook her head.
"Absolutely not."
I stared at her.
"Then why did you ask for my Social Security number?"
She looked at me.
"For insurance!"
"Which insurance?"
She hesitated.
"The household policy."
Dad frowned.
"Jordan is already covered under my arrangements."
Denise looked away.
Sarah had warned us not to conduct our own interrogation or make threats.
Dad seemed to remember.
He stepped aside.
"We'll let the investigation establish what happened."
Denise lifted her suitcase.
"You'll regret treating me this way."
He opened the door.
"I regret not asking questions sooner."
She left without saying goodbye to me.
When the door closed, the house became quiet.
I stood there, hardly breathing.
For the first time in years, I didn't feel someone watching me with disapproval.
Dad turned toward me.
"Are you okay?"
I considered lying.
Then I shook my head.
"No."
He nodded.
"That's okay."
We sat in the living room.
He ordered pizza.
It was a small thing.
But Denise had never allowed us to order food without asking whether we had earned it.
When the delivery arrived, Dad handed me the larger slice.
I laughed.
"What?"
He smiled sadly.
"You always liked the crust."
I stared at him.
He remembered.
After everything, he remembered.
That night, I checked my credit reports.
The suspicious loan appeared on one of them.
There were also unfamiliar inquiries.
My heart raced.
I thought about applying for an apartment someday.
Buying a reliable car.
Getting a mortgage.
Someone else's actions could affect all of that.
I felt violated.
But I wasn't powerless anymore.
I began keeping copies of everything.
Every statement.
Every message.
Every document.
I placed them in a folder labeled MY FUTURE.
The next morning, Caleb called me.
I almost ignored him.
Then I answered.
"Hello?"
His voice sounded strained.
"Jordan, we need to talk."
"About what?"
He hesitated.
"Mom called me last night."
I waited.
"She asked me to delete some messages."
My stomach tightened.
"What messages?"
"Messages about money."
I sat down.
"Caleb, what money?"
He took a shaky breath.
"She told me the loan was supposed to help me start a business."
I closed my eyes.
"Did you know it was in my name?"
"No. I swear."
I wanted to believe him.
But trust had become difficult.
"Why are you telling me now?"
His voice broke.
"Because I found something."
"What?"
"A transfer confirmation."
My heart hammered.
"From where?"
He whispered the name of the lender.
Then he added something that made my blood run cold.
"Jordan, ten thousand dollars went into an account Mom opened for me."
I couldn't speak.
Caleb continued.
"And the other five thousand..."
He stopped.
"Caleb?"
May you like
His next words almost knocked the breath out of me.
"She used it to pay off my credit card."
