Page 103 of Before I Say I Don't
"First, I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to all of you for being here today. Thank you for the flights you took to join us and for your prayers that have woven the fabric of thismoment.Itruly appreciate every bit of it." I turned to Viangelo and met his eyes. “I wrote emotional vows,” I scoffed, a small laugh bubbling up from my throat. "I really did. And I would have recited them in front of everyone today. But before I made any promises, I felt it was crucial to share some truths—truths I owe to myself, to the remarkable woman who raised me, and to everyone gathered here."
As I spoke, I could sense Danica standing behind me, her smile radiant and proud, almost as if she were leaning in to offer a reassuring pat on my back.
My smile transformed into something more honest. “So I decided to do my vows a little… different.”
The whispers that moved across two hundred people were soft as a breeze and loud as thunder as I pulled out my phone.
“Kam, what the hell are you doing?!” Viangelo muttered, his voice a mixture of confusion and anger.
I raised my hand to silence him and steadied my breath as I prepared to read my revised vows; the words, now more poignant than ever.
“To Viangelo, the boy in a suit, parading as a man who wanted to make me a bride but never a priority…
To Jayla, the best friend who smiled sweetly in my face while betraying our bond and sleeping with him behind my back…
To Kendall, the fake ‘sister in law’ who couldn’t even uphold the pretense and play her role right…
To Zaria, the bridesmaid who stood at my side, all while knowing she had crossed lines with the groom she was supposed to be supporting me in celebrating…
And last but not least, to Diane, the mother-in-law whose dreams of a grand wedding outweighed any genuine desire for a relationship with me…
This day is yours, but the mic is undeniably mine.”
When I finished my declaration, the room fell into a heavy silence, so profound that one could have heard an eyelash flutter to the polished wooden floor.
Viangelo’s gaze bore into me, his expression was a volatile mix of rage and deep-seated guilt, as if he was grappling with the consequences of my words.
“Kam, baby, we can talk about?—”
“Stop calling me baby,” I interjected, my tone slicing through his plea. “Save it for yourTuesday nights.”
Terrence coughed into his fist, trying—and failing—not to look like that was a confession.
Viangelo’s head jerked toward Terrence, stare narrow and venomous, as if the man had ripped the lid off his lies and handed them to the crowd on a platter.
ButIknew the truth. Terrence wasn’t the informant; it was Roman who had told me every last detail.
I didn’t linger on the mark where brides typically stood—an icon of joy and unity. Instead, I stepped away, creating a distance that felt both significant and charged.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering… what the hell is going on?” I chuckled, letting it echo through the stillness. “Well, people, I present to you… the world-premiere episode ofHow to Ruin a Wedding in 60 Seconds or Less.”
One of Viangelo’s frat brothers muttered “damn” under his breath, too loudly, and got elbowed by the person sitting next to him.
“Guards… secure the doors!” I commanded with a flair of authority.
At my signal, fifteen men dressed in tailored black suits peeled out from the blended crowd, moving like shadows summoned by an unseen force. Their boots thudded rhythmically against the aisle. They worked swiftly andefficiently, slamming each door shut with a resounding bang that echoed ominously through the ornate space.
Gasps and screams erupted from the audience, a chorus of shock and disbelief. People scrambled, twisted in their seats, and clutched their purses with uncertainty painting their faces.
But in my mind, I was unnervingly calm.
This is precisely why I hired security—for this very moment. I anticipated that things might spiral out of control, and nowI’m ready to steer the situation in my favor.
I lifted my hand, commanding silence. “Relax, relax! I’m not locking y’all in here for a cult initiation, and this ain’t no T.D. Jakes maneuver. Nobody’s being held hostage.”
A lot of them noticeably relaxed.
“This is just to make sure none of the defendants try to escape before sentencing. Oh, yeah… we’re having court today, everyone. Please remain seated, cross your legs, fix your wigs, and text your babysitters if you have to.”
