I was having dinner with a guy I’d met online.
He was charming, attentive—and oddly insistent on bringing me my coffee himself. Just as he handed it over, the waitress suddenly appeared and “accidentally” spilled it all across the table.
My date’s face flushed with anger.
As we got up to leave, the waitress leaned toward me and whispered, “I did that on purpose. He’s not who you think he is.”
I froze mid-movement, my coat half on, purse dangling from my shoulder.
“Excuse me?” I asked, blinking in confusion.
Without another word, she tucked a folded napkin into my hand and walked away.
I glanced back at the man—he said his name was Renzo. He looked polished: clean-cut, fancy watch, shoes that probably cost more than my rent. Everything about him screamed success. But now I noticed how tightly his jaw was clenched, like he was barely containing something.
In the car ride home, I tried to keep things light. “Well, that was…interesting,” I said with a nervous chuckle.
He didn’t respond. Just drove in silence.
Once home, I unfolded the napkin.
It read: “Google: Renzo DiLuca Sarasota 2019. Be careful.”
I did. And what I found made my stomach turn.
“Renzo” wasn’t even his real name. He’d used multiple aliases. Back in 2019, a man matching his description had conned three women in Sarasota. He’d posed as a wealthy investor, promised love and a future, and then disappeared—along with their life savings.
I sat there staring at my screen, stunned.
How close had I come to being his next victim?
The next day, I stayed silent. But he didn’t.
“Had a great time last night. Want to do dinner again?” he texted.
I didn’t reply. Instead, I went back to the restaurant. The waitress was still there—and visibly surprised to see me.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” I told her.
She gave a small nod. “You reminded me of myself. That’s how I knew. He used the same exact moves on me three years ago. Even the coffee thing—I did that back then too. When he reacted the same way, I knew it was him.”
Her name was Maribel. She told me everything. He’d scammed her out of $14,000, convincing her to invest in a fake business. Promised her a shared future. Left her in debt and disappeared.
She tried reporting it, but he’d used fake names and untraceable accounts.
Listening to her, I realized how narrowly I’d escaped.
But instead of cutting him off, I decided to go along with it.
I agreed to dinner. Chose a public spot I knew well. Brought a friend who could sit at the bar, eyes on our table.
And “Renzo”? He showed up with flowers, the same polished smile… completely unaware that this time, things would go very differently.