I was out with a man I met online—Renzo. He seemed polished: expensive watch, confident charm. He offered to bring me coffee. But before I could sip it, a waitress “accidentally” spilled it all over the table.
Renzo turned red with rage. As we left, that same waitress leaned in and whispered,
“I did it on purpose. He’s not who you think he is.”
Shocked, I froze. She slipped me a folded napkin and walked off.
In the car, I pretended nothing happened. But when I got home, I opened the napkin:
“Google: Renzo DiLuca Sarasota 2019. Be careful.”
I did—and my stomach dropped. He wasn’t Renzo. He had a history of using fake names and had scammed women through fake investment schemes and romantic promises. Then vanished.
The next day, I didn’t reply when he texted. Instead, I returned to the restaurant. The waitress—Maribel—recognized me. I thanked her.
She told me her story. Three years ago, he conned her out of $14,000 using the exact same tactics. The charm. The “business opportunity.” Even the coffee.
We talked for hours.
Instead of blocking him, I agreed to a second date—on my terms. Public place. My friend watching from the bar.
He arrived, all smiles, roses in hand.
Midway through dinner, I asked, “Ever been to Sarasota?”
He hesitated. “No. Why?”
I leaned in. “Because I know who you are. And I’ve spoken to one of your victims.”
His face drained of color. He excused himself to the bathroom—and never came back.
I reported him, shared what I knew. Detectives were building a case. Others were stepping forward.
Weeks later, a woman named Trini messaged me on Instagram. She’d just met someone calling himself Luca—but my story rang alarm bells.
We met. Compared notes. It was him again.
So we started something.
A small Facebook group. Quiet warnings. Shared stories. Women from all over began speaking up.
Maribel joined too. We meet every month—not in fear, but in strength.
What I’ve learned:
It’s not about paranoia. It’s about awareness.
Trust your instincts.
Listen to other women.
And when we speak up, we protect each other in ways no system ever could.
If this story hit home, share it. It could save someone else before it’s too late. ❤️
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