Page 50 of Before I Say I Don’t
With an unyielding gaze, she continued, “I thought you should know you’re not the only one who almost married him.
You were never going to be his real wife; you were just the mistress of honor.
” She paused for a moment, letting the words sink in, before adding, “My name is Renée… and I’m this man’s wife, ” she revealed, shoulders squared.
A low hum rose up from the guests.
My mouth went dry, rendered speechless as my mind raced to process her revelation.
“What?!” The question escaped my lips before I could rein it in.
Renée remained unfazed by the reaction.
With a measured calm, she reached into the folder she held and extracted a crisp copy of a marriage certificate and an ID.
She extended both toward me; the documents were clean and official, as though they were Exhibit Z in a case against me .
The ID puzzled me.
Same face. Same smug half-smile. But the name underneath?
Greg Randle.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why his name is different on the ID. Well… let’s just say I caught a case of identity fraud and heartbreak at the same time, sis.”
Renée gently took the ID out of my hand. With narrowed eyes, she stepped closer to Viangelo and flicked the ID toward him, letting it land at his feet like evidence entered into the record.
“You left that behind… careless mistake.”
I cared less about the fake ID in that moment. What really had me bound was that marriage certificate. That paper meant everything—and that’s what I was most concerned about.
I glanced down at the certificate—its print sharp and clear, no typo errors, no chance for deception. The truth was laid bare before me in government ink, the kind that didn’t smudge, didn’t fade, and sure as hell didn’t lie, even if it wasn’t the name I’d ever known him by.
“We got married three years ago… in Kansas, where I’m from,” Renée divulged.
“So yeah, I came a long way to witness this moment. We’d been together a year before that—four years total.
I thought I knew him. I thought I was building a life with him too.
Then… one day, he just up and left. No explanation, no goodbye.
The nigga disappeared like he never existed.
Clearly, no home training on how to be a good husband—guess we see where he got that from. ”
“Now you wait just a minute!” Diane shrilled in defense, springing to her feet.
“Oh, I’ve waited!” Renée snapped back. “For two years, I waited! I filed a missing person report when your son ghosted me like a bill he didn’t want to pay! I called every hospital, every morgue—hell, I even called animal control, thinking maybe he got hauled off with the strays! Nothing!”
Someone bellowed, “Not animal control!”
Renée pressed on, voice strong, not a single tear breaking through.
“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…
with their help. 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 said their help. Who is they ?” 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 is much bigger than just our fake marriage. But since honesty seems contagious today… let’s just put it all out there. Kendall, Diane, and Zaria have all been a part of Viangelo’s scheming masterplan for years ,” she revealed.
Whispers spilled like wildfire from table to table. All eyes swung to the so-called inner circle— Kendall, Diane, and Zaria.
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 would you gain 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 through Zaria, 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, met Viangelo through Zaria .”
Renée’s eyes shot over at Zaria, sharp and accusing.
“Elaine’s the one who poured her entire savings 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 broke her trust, her bank account, and her spirit. And sometimes, that’s just as deadly.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd—low, uneasy, like grief dressed in anger.
“Then there was Sasha Green,” she kept going.
“She was a financial analyst—sharp as they come, worked her way up, everything legit. Viangelo talked her into ‘loaning’ him funds for a startup that didn’t exist. When the money vanished, so did her stability.
She turned to drugs, got into lots of debt, and had a full breakdown.
She’s in a mental health facility right now in Georgia.
Alive… but barely living. You should visit her. ”
Horrified gasps overlapped with muttered curses. Someone whispered, “He ain’t no groom; he’s a serial scammer.”
Renée’s eyes swept the room, her tone colder now.
“Those are only the ones I know about. Who knows how many others there’ve been—different states, different names, same lies.
He’s been running this rodeo for years. How far it goes back?
” She flicked her chin toward Viangelo. “You’d have to ask him… or his posse.”
Every head swiveled back to Viangelo, whose face burned with rage but said nothing, locked down by security.
Danica momentarily slid back into judge mode. “What do you have to say for yourself, Zaria?”
Zaria’s mask cracked. Finally, she spoke—voice low, almost trembling.
“Angelo is my ex; that’s the truth. But we were a couple ten years ago.
Six years ago, he cleared a major debt for me.
Instead of freedom, I ended up bound to him.
Since then, I’ve been paying him back—handpicking targets, vouching for him and delivering women into his lies.
Elaine, Sasha… others. Until you. He found you on his own.
Still, he insisted I stay close and be in this wedding.
Not for friendship—for proximity. That’s why I said, this is way deeper than you think. ”
Zaria paused, her eyes misty and reflecting a mix of regret and fear.