Updated Feb 25, 2026 • ~6 min read
POV: Gabi
Agent Morrison’s office.
Federal building downtown.
Cold. Sterile. Intimidating.
“Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Moreno.”
“It’s Ms. Moreno now. I filed for divorce yesterday.”
She nods.
“We need your official statement. Everything that happened. Timeline. Evidence. All of it.”
“I already gave statements to Nix—Mr. Carter.”
“I know. But we need it on federal record.”
I spend three hours recounting everything.
The notification glitch.
The dating profiles.
Hiring Nix.
Meeting Kennedy and the other victims.
The sting operation.
“You recorded the final confrontation?”
“Yes. Audio and video. Multiple devices.”
“We’ll need all of it.”
I hand over my phone.
The pen camera.
The purse recorder.
“This is excellent evidence, Ms. Moreno. You did good work.”
“I’m a photographer, not a detective.”
She smiles.
“Could have fooled me.”
“What happens now?”
“Brandon Vale is being held without bail. Flight risk. We’re charging him with wire fraud, identity theft, conspiracy to commit fraud, and multiple counts of theft.”
“How long will he go to prison?”
“If convicted? Five to ten years. Possibly more.”
“What about Tyler? His business partner?”
“Tyler Briggs was arrested yesterday. He’s cooperating. Looks like he helped set up some of the fake accounts in exchange for a cut.”
“I never even met him.”
“That’s consistent with what we’re finding. He worked behind the scenes.”
Good.
“And me? Am I… clear?”
“You’re not a suspect, if that’s what you’re asking. We have overwhelming evidence you weren’t involved.”
Relief floods through me.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Mr. Carter. His investigation gave us everything we needed.”
NIX
I’m at my office when Gabi texts.
Gabi: FBI cleared me. I’m not a suspect.
Me: Told you they would.
Gabi: Can I buy you a drink? To say thank you?
I hesitate.
She’s still technically married.
Her husband just got arrested.
This is messy.
But I want to see her.
Me: Drinks sound good. When?
Gabi: Tonight? 7pm?
Me: I’ll pick you up.
GABI
I spend two hours getting ready.
Change outfits four times.
It’s not a date.
It’s a thank you.
But I want to look good.
I settle on jeans and a nice top.
Casual but intentional.
Nix picks me up at 7.
He’s in dark jeans and a leather jacket.
Effortlessly attractive.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
We drive to a bar in Fremont.
Quiet. Low-key.
We order drinks.
Sit in a booth.
“How are you holding up?” he asks.
“Honestly? I don’t know. One minute I’m relieved. The next I’m angry. Then sad. It’s… a lot.”
“That’s normal. You just found out your husband was living a double life.”
“Triple life. Maybe quadruple. I lost count.”
He laughs.
“Fair.”
“Thank you,” I say. “For everything. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“You could have. But I’m glad I could help.”
“No really. You believed me. From day one. When I barely believed myself.”
“Your story was believable. And you were clearly telling the truth.”
“How did you know?”
He takes a sip of his drink.
“Body language. Micro-expressions. Years of reading people. But mostly? Your eyes. You were terrified and heartbroken. That’s not something you can fake.”
I look down at my hands.
“I keep thinking about the women. The ones he scammed. They trusted ‘me.’ They thought they were talking to me. And he used that trust to steal from them.”
“That’s on him. Not you.”
“But it was my face. My name.”
“Without your knowledge or consent. You’re a victim too, Gabi.”
Victim.
The word sits heavy.
“I don’t feel like a victim. I feel like an idiot.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t see it. For three years I lived with him. Slept next to him. And I had no idea.”
“He’s a con artist. Deception is what they do. You’re not an idiot for trusting your husband.”
“Everyone’s going to know. The trial will be public. My face is going to be all over the news.”
Nix’s expression darkens.
“Yeah. About that.”
“What?”
He pulls out his phone.
Opens a news article.
Hands it to me.
SEATTLE MAN ARRESTED FOR ELABORATE DATING APP SCAM
Brandon Vale, 31, accused of defrauding multiple women using wife’s identity
My photo.
From my photography website.
Right there in the article.
“Oh my god.”
“It went public this morning. The FBI couldn’t keep it quiet with this many victims.”
I scroll through.
Details about the scam.
The victims.
The gambling.
And my name.
Over and over.
Gabriella Moreno, Vale’s wife, was unaware of the scheme and is cooperating with authorities.
At least they’re saying I didn’t know.
“My clients are going to see this.”
“Probably.”
“My family. My friends.”
“They’ll understand.”
“Will they? Or will they think I was stupid for not knowing?”
Nix reaches across the table.
Takes my hand.
“Anyone who thinks that doesn’t deserve your time.”
His hand is warm.
Strong.
I don’t pull away.
NIX
I should let go of her hand.
This is inappropriate.
She’s married. Vulnerable. My client.
But I don’t let go.
And neither does she.
“Nix?”
“Yeah?”
“What happens now? After the trial?”
“You rebuild. Start over. Move on.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It will be. But you’re strong enough.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you confronted your husband in a crowded restaurant. Recorded his confession. Stood up to the FBI. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”
She laughs softly.
“I was terrified the entire time.”
“Being brave doesn’t mean not being scared. It means doing it anyway.”
We’re still holding hands.
“Nix?”
“Yeah?”
“Is this… are we… I don’t know what this is.”
Neither do I.
“You just went through a major trauma. You’re getting divorced. Your life is in chaos. This—whatever this is—it’s probably not a good idea right now.”
Her face falls slightly.
“But,” I continue. “When the dust settles. When you’re ready. I’d like to take you on a real date. Not as your PI. Just as… me.”
She smiles.
“I’d like that.”
“Until then, we take it slow. Be friends. Let you heal.”
“Friends who hold hands?”
I look down at our joined hands.
“Friends who hold hands.”
GABI
We finish our drinks.
Nix drives me home.
At my door, he walks me up.
“Thank you. Again.”
“You already thanked me.”
“I’ll probably keep thanking you for the next year.”
He grins.
“I can live with that.”
There’s a moment.
Where I think he might kiss me.
Or I might kiss him.
But he steps back.
“Goodnight, Gabi.”
“Goodnight, Nix.”
I go inside.
Close the door.
Lean against it.
My marriage is over.
My husband is in jail.
My life is in shambles.
But for the first time in months, I feel hope.
Because Nix is right.
I will rebuild.
I will move on.
And maybe—just maybe—I’ll do it with him by my side.
END OF CHAPTER 11
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