Checkup Exposed My Dad’s Double Life

My dad scheduled a physical for me. When the nurse was drawing my blood, I heard her ask, “Is this for a bone marrow match sample?”

I froze. That wasn’t listed on my physical exam form at all.

And why would I need a match anyway?

The lab slip in the nurse’s hand accidentally fluttered to the floor.

As I bent to pick it up, a few lines of text jumped out at me:

Patient: Chloe Davis. Diagnosis: Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.

Guardian Signature: Robert Anderson.

Robert Anderson was my father, but who the hell was Chloe Davis?

I called my dad right away:

“Dad, why does my physical need a bone marrow match?”

His voice wavered, sounding a little flustered.

“Must be a hospital mix-up, right? But it’s just another test—can’t hurt to do one more.”

I smiled and said okay. After hanging up, I went straight to the patient room listed on the lab slip.

Walking into the room, I saw a girl lying in bed.

Her face was pale, her body frail.

Her eyes and eyebrows looked almost exactly like my dad’s.

My heart dropped. I clenched my hands and walked over, asking,

“Are you Chloe Davis?”

She looked up at me, startled. Before she could speak, a woman’s voice came from behind her.

I turned. It was her mom.

She looked to be in her early thirties—pretty young—simply dressed, with a gentle, motherly vibe.

She seemed flustered, her face pale, her hands shaking a little.

“You must be one of Chloe’s classmates, right?”

Her voice was urgent and shaking. She rushed forward and grabbed my arm.

“She needs to rest. Could you step out for a minute? I need to talk to you.”

I didn’t refuse and followed her out of the room.

In the hallway, she visibly relaxed, then hesitated before speaking.

“You’re…”

I held up my medical form, cutting straight to the point.

“Why is my father’s name on your daughter’s guardian signature line?”

“Ma’am, what’s your relationship with my dad?”

The hospital hallway was busy with people, and some who knew her walked by.

She hadn’t expected me to confront her directly. Her expression got even tenser, but she forced a smile and greeted her acquaintances.

Then, with a strained smile, she tried to explain to me:

“That signature… my daughter is sick, and a generous charity is providing funding. The person in charge happened to be there when I was filling out paperwork, so they just signed casually.”

Her words were gentle, meant to calm my suspicions.

But her eyes, fixed on me, held a hint of malice and a greedy glint.

I met her gaze, staring right back.

She looked a little guilty, instinctively running a hand through her hair.

I noticed the diamond ring on her hand. It looked familiar—a designer piece.

It was from my mom’s favorite designer. This designer, who rarely releases new pieces, had recently launched a new collection that got a lot of industry attention. It happened to coincide with my parents’ wedding anniversary.

I’d even secretly suggested to my dad that he should try to get this diamond ring as an anniversary gift for my mom.

He agreed, telling me to keep it a secret, saying he had a surprise planned for Mom.

But on the anniversary, what he gave her was a generic, mass-produced design you could find anywhere. Even the stones were cubic zirconia.

My dad explained that he’d been at a cross-country meeting with a time difference, mixed up the date, and couldn’t get the limited edition. He said he’d use a regular designer piece for now and later contact the designer for a custom piece for Mom.

Turns out, he hadn’t “missed out”—he’d given it to this other woman.

And fobbed my mom off with a lousy substitute.

I gritted my teeth, holding back a surge of anger.

Staring at Summer’s awkward expression, my smile didn’t reach my eyes.

“Ma’am, your ring is beautiful, isn’t it? A limited edition designer piece?”

“My mom waited forever but couldn’t get one.”

She probably hadn’t expected a kid like me to recognize it. She froze up instantly, her face turning ugly. She quickly pulled her hair forward, trying to cover a necklace, and stammered out a defense:

“What designer piece…? I don’t know anything about that. My daughter just bought this for me—it’s nothing expensive.”

“I need to go take care of my daughter now, so I should get back.”

“Oh, and please don’t mention today to anyone, so we don’t cause any misunderstandings at home.”

With that, she turned in a panic and hurried back into the room.

Watching her flee like that, I scoffed to myself.

Spineless coward.

Without another look, I turned and left the hospital.

Sitting in the car, I immediately called Mr. Davison, my grandfather’s assistant:

“Could you help me look into any unusual activity my dad’s been up to lately, especially his travel plans and financial transactions?”

“Be quick, but be careful not to tip him off.”

“Any evidence you find, save it right away.”