Page 113 of Before I Say I Don't
“Last month I got a break, though. I saw your big win on TV. Congratulations, by the way.” Her tone didn’t waver. “I’m a podcaster, so I decided to randomly check you out on Facebook and lo and behold, there he was—my husband. Standing next to you, smiling, preparing to say, ‘I do’ again like the first time never happened.”
Conversations in the audience crackled low and sharp.
“That’s when I realized he wasn’t dead or missing. He was here… with you… hiding in plain sight… withtheirhelp. It’s like God allowed me to see you on that screen that day. And once I discovered he was your fiancé, I knew I couldn’t let you make the biggest mistake of your life without you knowing the truth and possibly becoming the next victim.”
A rush of emotions flooded over me as I glanced over my shoulder at Viangelo, who stood there looking like an imposing man reduced to a boy caught in a lie. For the first time all that day, his eyes dropped to the floor, suddenly avoiding mine.
However, something else Renée said snapped me right back to the moment.
“You saidtheirhelp. Who isthey?” I pressed.
“Ooooooh, there’s so much more you don’t know.”
Renee’s eyes slid past me, pausing at the front row, locked on Diane. Diane’s chin dipped, and her gaze darted away like the spotlight burned.
“More?” I asked, my stomach knotting, not sure if I even wanted the answer.
Renée gave a tight, humorless smile. “Oh, yesssssss. Me being here ismuchbigger than just ourfakemarriage. But since honesty seems contagious today… let’s just put it all out there.Kendall, Diane,andZaria have all been a part of Viangelo’sschemingmasterplan foryears,” she revealed.
Whispers spilled like wildfire from table to table. All eyes swung to the so-called inner circle— Kendall, Diane, andZaria.
I turned, scanning their faces one by one. Not one of them could fake a poker face.
My jaw tightened as I folded my arms and leveled my stare on Zaria.
“Scheming? Now, Diane and Kendall don’t surprise me… too much. They’re family. But you, Zaria? What wouldyougain from any of this? Another chance with him?”
The crowd leaned in like it was the cliffhanger of a season finale.
Renée’s voice broke in, steady and clear. “Kamira, right? Girl, let me tell you exactly how this man works—because I see the same playbook in what he did to you.”
She drew in a breath, her gaze drifting somewhere far away as she slipped into memory.
“We met throughZaria,actually… at a networking event for a community nonprofit I was coordinating. I’d been teaching full-time, pouring into kids, then working evenings to help keep the after-school program afloat. I wasn’t looking for love. He just… slid in—charming, attentive. Said he admired how selfless I was and how rare it was to find a woman with both beauty and brains. He knew exactly what to say.”
The room stirred—eyes cutting back to Viangelo, then to me.
“I had excellent credit, plenty of savings, and investments I’d been stacking for years,” Renée continued. “And little by little, he chipped away at all of it. Not by force, but by lies. Told me he had a business deal that just needed seed money. Claimed he had the money, but his accounts were frozen because of some banking mistake, and he didn’t want to look weak in front of people. He swore he’d pay me right back… and I—foolishly—believed him.” Her jaw tightened. “Next thing I knew, loans were in my name, cards were maxed out and my savings—gone. Even the nonprofit money I’d earmarked for a grant cycle? He touched that too, swearing it was temporary.”
The crowd buzzed like hornets.
“And then—just when I started asking too many questions—he disappeared and left me to clean up the wreckage of my own name. My credit tanked, my reputation took a hit, and for months, I could barely look at myself in the mirror. I thought I was broken.” She paused, lifting her chin. “But I bounced back. I rebuilt. And standing here today, I want you to know, you don’t come back from a man like this by marrying him; you come back by leaving him where he stands.”
The silence that followed was jagged and heavy.
“I wish I could tell you it was just me; that I was the only one he fooled.”
Damn, there’s more,I thought, my stomach dropping. My face must’ve given me away because Renée kept going without waiting for me to ask.
“There was a lady named Elaine Foster. She was a widowed real estate investor. According to her sister, she, too, metViangelothroughZaria.”
Renée’s eyes shot over at Zaria, sharp and accusing.
“Elaine’s the one who poured herentiresavings into one of his so-called ‘developments.’ A fake project. A ghost building. When it all crumbled, so did she. The depression swallowed her whole.” Renée’s voice softened for the first time. “She’s dead now.”
Dead?The word thundered in my head, sharp and hollow.
“Yes… dead,” Renée repeated, like she’d heard my thought and wanted to leave no room for doubt. “No, he didn’t kill her with his hands—but rumor has it, the depression did. He brokeher trust, her bank account, and her spirit. And sometimes, that’s just as deadly.”
