Page 46 of Before I Say I Don’t

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 of How 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 and efficiently, 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 no w I’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.”

The nervous energy in the room transformed into a series of chuckles.

“Not her turning the wedding into a Judge Mathis show!” someone shouted.

I nodded, smiling wider. “Now, I strongly encourage y’all to stay because food will be served after. Yes—y’all gon’ eat.”

My uncle blurted, “As long as y’all still serving chicken, I’m staying!”

A roar of laughter burst through the crowd, folks easing back into their seats with fans waving again.

I scanned the crowd, taking in my colleagues and partners from the firm, whose expressions were stiff as mannequins.

I sighed into the mic, lips curving. “Now, before we get started… let me just say this. To my coworkers, colleagues, and everybody associated with the firm or others—” I gestured toward their section, “—I apologize in advance for what you all are about to witness.”

Some shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting around like they were waiting for HR to burst through the doors at any moment.

“And if my firm fires me after today, I’ll understand.

This isn’t exactly in the handbook. But let’s be real…

” I let my eyes sweep across them. “Who else closes cases like me? Who else bills hours like me? Who else wins trials half-asleep with a venti latte in their hand?” I shrugged.

“If y’all cut me loose, that’s fine. I’ll just start my own practice, hang my name in bold letters, and take all the clients with me. ”

The room cracked—claps, whistles and somebody hollered, “Talk yo’ stuff, sis!”

I wanted to add, Because the truth is—I am the firm and it would feel a whole lot emptier without me. Don’t get it twisted.

That wasn’t cockiness; it was the truth and about freedom.

If they cut me loose, so what? I’d been carrying that firm on my back for years.

I was the late nights, the closed deals, the miracle worker they paraded in front of clients.

They might’ve signed the checks, but I’d built the brand.

If they let me go, I’d just build my own. And honestly? It’d probably be better.

I nodded, satisfied. “Alright. Now that the disclaimer is out the way…” I lifted the mic higher. “Court is officially in session.”

Viangelo lurched forward, hand shooting out like he meant to snatch the mic from me.

The crowd gasped, then murmured like waves hitting a pier.

Before he could get close, two of the security guys stepped in smoothly, gripped his arms and locked him in place. He fought against them, but they held him steady, muscles bulging under black sleeves like they’d been waiting for that moment.

I spoke, unbothered. “Oh no, sweetheart—don’t interrupt me. I’m not finished . ”

From the corner of my eye, I caught Roman shift like he was seconds away from stepping in.

I slid my gaze over to him and gave the smallest, sharpest side-eye, gesturing, Not yet, baby.

Roman nodded, then casually folded his hands in front of him. But his eyes stayed locked on me—steady, protective, and lethal if I gave the word.

I tilted my head, watching Viangelo simmer. “It’s funny how you never showed this much urgency when I needed you to actually show up… but let me grab a microphone, and suddenly you’re Usain Bolt.”

Laughter crackled through the room—half shocked, half playful.

Diane jumped up from her seat in defense. “Kamira, you will not embarrass my son like this!”

I turned to her, wearing a devilish grin. “Ma’am, you ordered a wedding, not a muzzled bride. Don’t worry—you’ll get your refund.”

The entire left side of the room erupted in laughter.

I adjusted my grip on the mic, steady.

“Now… as I was saying, this isn’t just about vows; this is about me finally valuing myself enough to not settle for crumbs dressed up like cake. See, y’all thought this was about a happily ever after. Oh, no. This is a PSA… a cautionary tale.”

I cleared my throat and let my voice settle into that courtroom cadence that had paid my bills.

“Now we can keep pretending this was ever about love, or I can give y’all the real show.

And trust me…” I raised my phone, screen glowing with damning evidence, “…the highlight reel is better than cable. That being said, let’s begin.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you, the first case on the docket…

Kamira vs. Taryn: The Case of the Hidden Baby Mama. ”

The crowd erupted into a cacophony of hollers; a few individuals even stomped the floor like it was Showtime at the Apollo.

‘Taryn, the mother of my fiancé’s child. She’s wearing a simple gold wrap dress, and a look on her face that says she didn’t ask for any of this—and I believe her.”

All heads pivoted in unison toward where I had my finger pointed. Taryn sat speechless and wide-eyed as if she’d just been handed a subpoena and summoned to the stand.

My eyes gravitated to Diane, who sat rigid, her eyes widened in horror as they darted to her son.

“A… a child?” Diane’s voice trembled, cracking under the weight of her disbelief. Her pearls shook in her grip. “You have a child ?!”

All eyes swung to Viangelo. He glared, jaw locked tight, throat bobbing as he finally forced the word out.

“Yeah,” he admitted, voice low, almost shameful.

Gasps detonated across the room like fireworks.

A woman in the back shrilled, “Whew, Jesus! Not at the altar!” While another added, “And you couldn’t tell her before now!”

Diane shot up, looking around frantically. “Kendall!” she barked, her eyes narrowing in on her daughter. “Taryn’s your best friend! So you had to know!”

The crowd voices rose as heads swiveled toward Kendall.

“I did,” she confessed, her tone icy and sharp, devoid of any hint of remorse.

That single admission initiated whispers and sidelong glances from the crowd.

Diane staggered backward, instinctively clutching her pearls as if they could offer her some solace. She sank halfway into her seat before locking eyes with me, desperation radiating from her.

“Kamira, I swear I didn’t know! That—” she shook her head fervently, eyes wide with panic, “—that was kept from me, too! I would’ve never let you walk into this blind!”

Before I could respond, Kendall scoffed, loud and sharp, like Diane was performing.

“Mmm. Sure.”

The way she said it made the whole crowd buzz—like there was more under the surface I hadn’t been told.

Diane whipped her head toward Kendall, her expression a mix of wrath and trepidation as she hissed through gritted teeth, “Watch your mouth.”

“It’s cool, Diane. Maybe you didn’t know,” I said. “But let’s be clear—your ignorance doesn’t change my decision. You raised a liar, and I’m not marrying one.”

One voice rang out from the back, “And that’s on facts! ”

Jayla turned to Kendall, her face in disbelief.

“Wait… so you knew he had another child and didn’t tell me?”

Kendall shrugged like it was nothing. “Uh, yeah. Taryn is my best friend and my brother told me to keep quiet about it. But me and you? We’re just cool, not friends,” she explained coldly.

Gasps shot through the audience.

“And besides,” Kendall added, her tone flat, dismissive, “it’s not like you’re his main girl anyway. So I don’t owe you a damn thing. And who’s to say that baby you’re carrying is even his? I mean, it ain’t like you were acting holy either.”

Jayla shot forward, eyes blazing. Security stepped between them instantly, arms spread wide as the guests screamed, shouted, and leaned in like it was the final round of a heavyweight fight.

Viangelo seized the moment, smirking through his sweat. “Yeah, what Kendall said. Everybody know how you get around, Jayla. Ain’t no guarantee that baby’s mine.”

The crowd booed like he’d just cursed in church. Yet, a few “Damns!” rolled from the back.

I cut him a glare so sharp it froze him mid-breath. Viangelo’s voice died in his throat and his smirk instantly faltered.

“That’s enough!” I yelled. “The time for y’all to talk about your ‘supposed’ child and your messy little affair will come soon enough. For now? Shut up, wait your turn and let me finish exposing every last one of you.”

The crowd erupted in hollers and applause, some even chanting, “Order! Order!” like they were really in trial.