He looked annoyed.

He closed my laptop with a sharp click and stood up.

The screen went black as he disconnected my home router.

My phone immediately rang.

It wasn’t my father.

The screen showed an incoming call from Claire Donnelly, my former colleague at the DoD fraud division.

I pressed answer.

“Claire?” I gasped.

“Rachel, thank god you picked up,” Claire said, her voice tight and hurried.

“I’m flagged on an active investigation, and your name just popped up on my terminal.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, gripping the handrail of the bed.

“Someone just filed a claim to redirect your active military housing and medical benefits,” Claire said.

“They used an authorized family member’s portal.”

“Whose?” I whispered.

“The account belongs to your maternal grandmother,” Claire said.

“Margaret Elaine Mitchell.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“Claire, that’s impossible,” I said, my hands turning cold.

“My grandmother died fifteen years ago.”

“Well,” Claire replied, “she just signed a direct deposit form five minutes ago.”

I couldn’t breathe.

The air in the hospital room felt freezing cold.