Write a question from the passage such that it identifies a character (a person or a thing) in the passage.

Earlier this year my depression got very bad, very quickly. I'd been having intrusive suicidal thoughts for a while. It was a combination of a bad medication regimen and lots of little stressorsschool, work, a car accident, you name it. I took to a very private social media account that only those I was closest to could see. I used that account to rant about my problems. It was my coping mechanism and how I kept myself sane. Somehow just typing it out got it off my chest in ways writing in a journal couldn't (now, I try to use Quora for this purpose instead).
One night in early March I went to a performance that my friends were part of. I went alone. While I was there, I got a series of texts regarding my girlfriend. I knew that what those texts said would cause me an immense amount of stress and sleepless nights. I went onto my social media account.
I don't remember exactly what I posted. It wasn't specific, but rather something along the lines of "I'm stressed, this is the cherry on top, I honestly don't know how I'm going to handle this."
Whatever it was, someone who followed that account knew I was at my breaking point. They called an anonymous tip line and reported that they believed I was in danger of killing myself. I got home from the performance at midnight and my dad was in my driveway. I asked him why. He told me he'd been contacted and that someone reported a concern about me.
I was admitted to the hospital the next day, and I spent a week an an inpatient psychiatric unit where I received better medication, therapy and coaching on positive coping mechanisms. Whoever called saved me, but in a way I saved my own life that day. What I thought was just another routine post about stress got me the help I so desperately needed. I know without it, I would have ended my own life that day. Funny how that works.
Who was the person in the narrator's driveway?

For a moment, Paul wasn't even sure who had walked into the room. Chloe had totally transformed herself since he'd last seen her. She wore a wig for starters, and a very good one. It was light brown and shoulder length. It looked so natural that if he didn't know she had much shorter hair, he would have guessed that she had dyed it. But it was the outfit that made the change. She wore a well-tailored, very professional, gray woman's skirt/blazer combo with a yellow silk blouse. Her wrist sported what looked to Paul's uneducated eye like an expensive and fashionable gold lady's watch from which he thought he detected a glint of diamond. In short, she looked just like the high priced lawyer she was supposed to be. She was certainly the best-dressed person in the room.
Chloe reached across the table to shake Greg's hand, stretching forward as she did so. Paul watched Greg glance down at her cleavage while he shook her hand. "I'm Rachel Roth, here on behalf of Mr. Paul Reynolds."
"Hi," said Greg. "I'm Greg Driscol, and this is..."
"I know the rogues gallery here," said Chloe cutting Greg off and looking around at the assembled board members. "I've learned all about you gentlemen."
Marie stood up and shook Chloe's hand. "Marie Cooper, from Johnson, Myers, and Wick," she said.
"Nice to meet you," she said. "Ok, we've got the intros down, shall we get on with the dirty business?"
"Um, sure," Greg said as he sat back down. "I was just about to turn things over to Marie."
The plan was now in action, and so far so good. But Paul knew that this was a crucial moment. Chloe didn't really know the law - just a few points that her friend had helped her out with. She couldn't let the real lawyer take over the meeting. Her dramatic, unexpected entrance had them off guard, and Paul hoped she seized the moment and pressed on.
Who came on behalf of Mr. Reynolds?

"It's about to come on. Hurry."
"I'm coming."
Nurse Judy delivered Martha's tray just in time. It was a frozen dinner, but Judy always transferred it to a fancy plate and prepared a small salad and a bowl of applesauce to go alongside it.
"Looks great, Judy. Now sit down and let's eat."
Nurse Judy sat down in the recliner next to Martha's bed. The meal she made for herself was similar to Martha's. "Didn't we just see this one a few days ago?"
"I don't remember. But you know it doesn't matter. I love Jessica Fletcher."
It was the only good thing about her failing memory. She could watch reruns of Murder She Wrote over and over again. They were all new to her.
The doorbell rang.
"Whoever it is, just get rid of them. It couldn't be friends or family. They know better than to interrupt my show."
Nurse Judy walked down the hallway to the front door. It was a nurse.
"May I help you?"
"The agency sent me."
"No, there must be some mistake. I've been caring for Mrs. Mason for a couple of months now."
"Oh, great. Why do they keep doing this to me? Mind if I come in and use the phone?"
"Don't you have a cell phone?"
"Yeah, but it's dead. I forgot to charge it last night."
"I hate when I do that. Sure, come on in. What's your name?"
"Carnie."
"Good to meet you, Carnie. I'm Judy. You can use the house phone."
Judy led her to the phone. Carnie picked up the receiver and began to dial. But as Judy turned to walk away, Carnie slammed the phone across the back of her head.
Nurse Judy collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Martha's blaring TV masked the noise.
Who made Martha dinner?