As I sat at my kitchen table, the folder of documents seemed to grow larger with every page I turned. Each line of text was a potential clue, each signature a point of inquiry. I had to be methodical, systematic in my approach if I wanted to understand the full extent of Hannah’s involvement.
My brother, Tom, joined me, his face a mix of concern and determination. “We need to talk to Dad,” he said quietly, as he glanced over the papers. I nodded, knowing that confronting our father about his caregiver would be difficult. He had trusted Hannah for years, and any implication of wrongdoing would be a hard pill for him to swallow.
“We should also call the insurance company,” I suggested, pointing to a particularly large claim that seemed out of place. “They might be able to verify some of these charges.” Tom agreed, and we decided to split the tasks—he would speak to our father, I would handle the calls.
The phone call to the insurance company was as tedious as I expected, filled with hold music and transfers, but eventually, I reached someone who could help. The representative confirmed several discrepancies, including one significant claim for a procedure that wasn’t covered under our father’s policy.
I thanked them and hung up, my mind racing with questions. Was Hannah acting alone, or was there someone else involved? And how much did my father really know about his own care?
We needed more evidence, more conversations, and most importantly, more time.
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