Her eyes were wide, darting from me to the military police officer.

“Rachel, honey, is everything okay in here?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Stay outside, ma’am,” Sergeant Miller said without looking back.

“I just want to make sure my grandson is safe,” Diane said, her voice rising in pitch.

“The baby is fine,” Lena, the nurse, said from the corner.

Lena stepped in front of the infant warmer, blocking Diane’s view of my son.

“We are conducting an official inquiry,” Miller told my mother. “Please close the door.”

Diane lingered for a second, her gaze locking onto the phone in Miller’s hand.

She knew.

The color drained from her face, and she pulled the door shut.

I turned back to Miller.

“They’ve been drawing my grandmother’s pension since 2018,” I said.

“And they used my identity to cover the tax trail.”

“How did they get your personal information?” Miller asked.

“My sister, Victoria,” I said. “She worked at the county records office until last year.”

“She had access to our family’s vital statistics and my old military records.”