Updated Feb 25, 2026 • ~6 min read
POV: Gabi
The office is smaller than I expected.
Carter Investigations.
Third floor of a building in Pioneer Square.
I knock.
“Come in!”
I push open the door.
And stop.
The private investigator is…
Hot.
Black man. Early thirties. Locs pulled back. Dark eyes that miss nothing.
Wearing jeans and a henley.
Tattoos visible on his forearms.
He looks like he should be on a magazine cover.
Not sitting behind a desk in a cramped office.
“Gabriella Moreno?” he asks.
“Gabi. Please.”
He stands. Extends his hand.
“Phoenix Carter. Everyone calls me Nix.”
His handshake is firm.
Confident.
“Have a seat.”
I sit.
Look around.
The office is organized chaos.
Files stacked everywhere. A wall of photos. Cork boards with strings connecting images.
Very detective-movie aesthetic.
“So,” Nix says, sitting back down. “You said on the phone this was about your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Cheating?”
I hesitate.
“I think so. But it’s… complicated.”
He pulls out a notepad.
“I specialize in complicated. Start from the beginning.”
So I do.
I tell him about the notification glitch.
The dating apps.
The profiles using MY photos.
Brandon’s “market research” excuse.
The phone call I overheard.
Nix listens without interrupting.
Takes notes.
When I finish, he sets down his pen.
“Let me make sure I understand. Your husband is on multiple dating apps. Using YOUR photos. Claiming it’s for a dating app he’s developing.”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t believe him.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Good question.
“Because he was too prepared with the explanation. Like he’d been rehearsing it. And the phone call—he said I ‘bought it.’ That’s not how someone talks about legitimate business research.”
Nix nods slowly.
“Your instincts are probably right.”
“Can you help me?”
He leans back in his chair.
“I can. But I need you to understand what you’re asking for.”
“What do you mean?”
“Once I start digging, I’m going to find things. And those things might be worse than you think. Are you sure you want to know?”
My hands are shaking.
I ball them into fists.
“I’m sure.”
He studies me for a long moment.
Then nods.
“Okay. I’ll take your case.”
Relief floods through me.
“What do you need from me?”
“Access to his phone if possible. Photos of the profiles you found. His daily routine. Anywhere he goes regularly.”
I pull out my phone.
“I screenshotted everything.”
I show him.
Profile after profile.
My face staring back from Tinder. Bumble. Hinge. Raya.
Nix’s expression darkens.
“That’s… a lot of apps.”
“I know.”
“And these are all using your photos?”
“Every single one.”
He zooms in on one of the profiles.
“The bio—is this your real information?”
I read it.
Photographer. Seattle. Dog lover. Coffee addict.
“Yes. That’s all me.”
“He’s not just using your photos. He’s using your IDENTITY.”
The words hit like a punch.
“You mean—”
“I mean if he’s meeting people, they think they’re meeting YOU. Gabriella Moreno. Photographer. Your life. Your job. Your identity.”
My stomach turns.
“Oh my god.”
“Have you checked your credit? Bank accounts?”
“Why would I—”
“Because identity theft isn’t just about dating apps, Gabi. If he’s using your identity online, he could be using it other places too.”
Panic rises in my chest.
“I’ll check tonight.”
“Do it now. While you’re here. I’ll walk you through it.”
NIX
She’s terrified.
I can see it in her eyes.
I’ve had a lot of cheating spouse cases.
But this one is different.
Identity theft within a marriage?
That’s a new level of fucked up.
Gabi pulls up her bank app with shaking hands.
“Joint account?”
“Yes. We share everything.”
She logs in.
Scrolls through recent transactions.
“Anything unusual?” I ask.
She’s quiet.
Too quiet.
“Gabi?”
“There are… a lot of charges I don’t recognize.”
“Like what?”
“Hotels. Restaurants in neighborhoods I’ve never been to. Cash withdrawals for hundreds of dollars.”
Shit.
“How much total?”
She’s doing math in her head.
“Just this month? Maybe… five thousand dollars?”
“Does Brandon usually spend that much?”
“No. We budget. We’re saving for a house.”
I make a note.
“Check your credit report.”
She does.
Pulls up Credit Karma.
Her face goes white.
“What?”
“There’s a credit card I didn’t open. $15,000 limit. And it’s… maxed out.”
Fuck.
“When was it opened?”
“Six months ago.”
“You never got a card in the mail?”
“No. But Brandon gets the mail. He could have—”
She stops.
Looks at me.
“He’s stealing from me.”
“It looks that way.”
“Using my identity. My credit. My face.”
She’s starting to hyperventilate.
“Gabi. Breathe.”
I come around the desk.
Crouch next to her chair.
“Look at me.”
She does.
Eyes wide. Tears forming.
“We’re going to fix this. Okay? But I need you to stay calm so we can think clearly.”
She nods.
Takes a shaky breath.
“What do I do?”
“First, don’t confront him yet. If he knows you know, he’ll hide everything.”
“Okay.”
“Second, freeze your credit. Call the credit card company. Report it as fraud.”
“What if they ask questions? What if they involve police?”
Good question.
“Tell them the truth. Someone opened a card in your name without permission. You’re investigating.”
“But it’s my husband.”
“They don’t need to know that yet.”
She nods again.
“Third, I’m going to surveil him. Follow him. See where he goes. Who he meets.”
“How long will that take?”
“Depends on his patterns. A week. Maybe two.”
“And then?”
“Then we’ll know the truth. All of it.”
She stands.
Wipes her eyes.
“What’s your rate?”
“$150 an hour plus expenses.”
“That’s fine. When can you start?”
I look at my watch.
3 PM.
“What time does your husband get home from work?”
“Usually around seven.”
“Then I start now.”
GABI
I give Nix Brandon’s office address.
His car description.
His photo.
Everything he needs to follow my husband.
“One more thing,” Nix says as I’m leaving.
“Yeah?”
“Be careful around him. If he’s willing to steal your identity, I don’t know what else he’s capable of.”
The words send a chill down my spine.
“I will.”
“And Gabi?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re doing the right thing. Trusting your instincts.”
I nod.
Not trusting my voice.
I leave his office.
Walk to my car.
Sit in the driver’s seat.
And I cry.
Not sad tears.
Angry tears.
Brandon stole my face.
My credit.
My life.
And he thought I’d never find out.
But I did.
And now?
Now I’m taking it all back.
END OF CHAPTER 3
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