Updated Feb 25, 2026 • ~7 min read
POV: Nix
Day three of surveillance.
Brandon Vale is predictable.
Office from 9-6.
Gym at 6:30.
Home by 8.
Except Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Those nights he doesn’t go home.
Tonight is Thursday.
I’m parked across from his office building.
Waiting.
6:15 PM, he walks out.
Alone.
Gets in his Tesla.
I follow.
He doesn’t go to the gym.
He drives to Capitol Hill.
Parks outside a wine bar called Communion.
I park down the street.
Pull out my camera.
He’s checking his phone.
Waiting.
Ten minutes later, a woman arrives.
Blonde. Mid-twenties. Wearing a green dress.
She waves.
He smiles.
They hug.
Not a business meeting.
I zoom in.
Snap photos.
They go inside.
I wait five minutes.
Then I follow.
The bar is crowded.
Low lighting. Intimate.
I spot them in a corner booth.
Close. Laughing.
He’s touching her arm.
She’s leaning in.
Classic date behavior.
I order a drink at the bar.
Position myself where I can watch them in the mirror.
My phone buzzes.
Gabi: Any updates?
I glance at Brandon and the blonde.
He’s showing her something on his phone.
She’s smiling.
Me: Call you in an hour.
Gabi: Is it bad?
Me: We’ll talk soon.
I don’t want to text her what I’m seeing.
She deserves to hear it in person.
Or at least over the phone.
I take more photos.
Brandon paying the check.
Them leaving together.
I follow outside.
They walk two blocks.
Stop outside a boutique hotel.
The Lexington.
Shit.
Brandon holds the door for her.
They go inside.
I wait across the street.
Twenty minutes later, I see them through the lobby window.
Checking in.
He’s using a credit card.
She’s standing close.
His hand is on her lower back.
They disappear toward the elevators.
I check the time.
8:47 PM.
He’s not going home tonight.
I call Gabi.
She answers on the first ring.
“What did you find?”
GABI
My hands are shaking.
“Nix? What did you find?”
“I’m outside a hotel in Capitol Hill. Brandon just checked in. With a woman.”
The words hit like a truck.
“A woman.”
“Blonde. Twenties. They had drinks first at a wine bar. Very… couple-like.”
I can’t breathe.
“Are you sure it’s not work related?”
Even as I say it, I know how stupid it sounds.
“Gabi. He checked into a hotel with her. At nine PM on a Thursday. This isn’t work.”
I sink onto the couch.
“Okay.”
“I can stay. Document when he leaves. Get more evidence.”
“No. You have enough.”
My voice sounds hollow.
Distant.
“Are you okay?” Nix asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to come over? We should talk about next steps.”
Next steps.
Divorce.
That’s the next step.
“Yes. Please.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
He hangs up.
I stare at my phone.
At my wedding photo wallpaper.
Brandon and me.
Smiling.
Happy.
What a lie.
I change the wallpaper.
Can’t look at his face anymore.
My phone buzzes.
Text from Brandon.
Brandon: Working late tonight. Don’t wait up. Love you.
Love you.
He’s in a hotel with another woman.
Texting me that he loves me.
I don’t respond.
Twenty-three minutes later, there’s a knock.
I open the door.
Nix is standing there.
Leather jacket. Concerned expression.
“Come in.”
He does.
Looks around.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks.”
Awkward silence.
“Do you want coffee? Water?”
“I’m good.”
We sit.
Him in the armchair.
Me on the couch.
Professional distance.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“For what?”
“For what I found. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear.”
I laugh.
It comes out bitter.
“I hired you to find the truth. You did.”
“Still. It sucks.”
“Yeah.”
He pulls out his phone.
“I have photos. If you want to see them.”
Do I?
Yes.
I need to see it.
Make it real.
“Show me.”
He moves to sit next to me.
Close enough that I can see his screen.
Far enough to stay professional.
He swipes through.
Brandon outside the wine bar.
Brandon with the blonde woman.
Them laughing.
Touching.
Entering the hotel.
Each photo is a knife.
“Who is she?” I whisper.
“I don’t know yet. But I can find out.”
“How many?”
“How many what?”
“Women. How many is he seeing?”
Nix is quiet.
“I need to know, Nix.”
“Based on the dating profiles and message patterns? I’d estimate at least five active conversations. Maybe more.”
Five.
“Oh my god.”
“But there’s something else.”
I look at him.
“Worse than five women?”
“The women he’s messaging on the apps—he’s asking them for money.”
“What?”
Nix shows me screenshots.
Messages from Brandon’s profiles.
“My startup is almost funded. Just need $5K to close the round. Can you help? I’ll pay you back with interest.”
“Emergency situation with my mom’s medical bills. Could you spot me $2K? I’m good for it.”
“Investment opportunity closing tomorrow. Need $10K. This will triple in six months. Want in?”
Message after message.
Different women.
Different stories.
All asking for money.
“He’s scamming them.”
“Yes.”
“Using my face.”
Nix nods.
“The women think they’re sending money to YOU. Gabriella Moreno. Photographer. Your identity.”
I’m going to be sick.
“How much?”
“I don’t know yet. But based on what I’ve seen? Tens of thousands. Maybe more.”
“Where’s the money going?”
“That’s what I need to find out.”
I stand.
Pace.
“This is insane. This is INSANE.”
Nix stands too.
“Gabi—”
“He’s not just cheating. He’s running cons. Using MY identity. What if these women report this? What if POLICE get involved?”
“That’s why we need to act fast. Document everything. Build a case that proves you didn’t know.”
“How?”
“Timeline. Show you were working during these meetups. Testify you never gave permission. Bank records showing you didn’t receive the money.”
My head is spinning.
“I need to talk to my sister. She’s a lawyer.”
“Good. You should.”
I look at Nix.
Really look at him.
This man I met three days ago is now the only person who knows the truth.
The only person on my side.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For taking this seriously. For believing me.”
“This is the easiest case I’ve ever believed.”
A small laugh escapes.
“Because it’s so crazy?”
“Because you’re clearly telling the truth. And your husband is clearly a piece of shit.”
The bluntness makes me smile despite everything.
“Yeah. He really is.”
Nix’s phone buzzes.
He checks it.
“Brandon just left the hotel. Alone. Heading east.”
“Home.”
“Probably.”
I check the time.
11:34 PM.
“I should go,” Nix says. “Let you process this.”
“Okay.”
He heads to the door.
Turns back.
“Gabi? Lock your accounts. Change your passwords. Don’t let him have access to anything financial until we figure out how deep this goes.”
“I will.”
“And if you need anything—”
“I’ll call.”
He nods.
Leaves.
I lock the door behind him.
Thirty minutes later, Brandon comes home.
“Hey baby,” he says, kissing my cheek.
He smells like perfume.
Not mine.
“How was work?”
“Exhausting. But productive.”
Lie.
“I’m going to bed,” I say.
“I’ll join you soon.”
No you won’t.
I go to our bedroom.
Lock the door.
And I start planning my exit.
END OF CHAPTER 4
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