Adam searched for lonely older women, made them feel seen, then slowly pushed them to send more and more intimate photos.
I started crying.
Not because he didn’t love me.
Because I realized he had used the most vulnerable part of me.
Two days later, Linda asked me to meet her at a coffee shop.
She wasn’t alone.
Beside her sat her brother, Michael.
He was 72, silver-haired, calm, and had lost his wife several years earlier.
Michael had worked as a photographer for most of his life, and he was helping Linda report the accounts and find where the pictures had been posted.
But what I remember most was the first thing he said to me.
“Margaret, trusting someone doesn’t give them permission to betray you.”
I looked down.
“I should have known better.”
He shook his head.
“No. He should have behaved better.”
Over the next few weeks, we reported the pages, contacted the websites, and warned the other women.
