The insurance agent apologized before he explained it again. Our umbrella policy had three named insureds. Me. My husband. And Lena Harper — the woman who’d filed the complaint against Terry in May. I asked how someone could be added without me knowing. He said the request came through my husband’s online account, complete with an electronic signature and a follow-up call that matched the phone number on file. Then he said something that made me grab a pen. The mailing address attached to Lena’s listing wasn’t ours. It was a townhouse twenty minutes away I’d never heard of.
I confronted my husband that night with the renewal paperwork. He didn’t deny adding her. He said Terry’s case had gotten uglier than anyone knew and that Lena had been injured worse than the family admitted. He claimed his lawyer told him putting her on the umbrella policy would make settlement negotiations easier. I asked why he’d been printing documents at UPS twice a week. He finally admitted he’d been handling paperwork for her because “she didn’t have anyone.” Then I asked why her address was on our insurance. He looked away and said, “It was temporary.” That answer lasted about five seconds before I slid another paper across the table.
The UPS receipts had tracking numbers. I looked them up before confronting him. Every package had gone to the same townhouse. The county assessor’s website listed the owner. It wasn’t Lena. It was an LLC formed in April. My husband’s name wasn’t on it anywhere. Neither was Terry’s. The registered agent was the attorney representing Lena in the complaint. Then I noticed one more document folded into the insurance envelope — an endorsement dated two weeks before Terry’s hearing. Across the bottom, next to the emergency contact section, was my husband’s handwriting: “Notify spouse only if policyholder unavailable.” I wasn’t listed as the spouse. Lena was.
