Professional courtesy. I opened the door. But here's what you should understand, Angela. Kyle used you. Maybe he knew about the infection risks and didn't care.
Maybe he was just reckless. Either way, he's gone and you're stuck with the consequences. Where is he? Does it matter? I asked.
He's not coming back. He's not going to help you. You're alone with this. I left her sitting there, walked to my car, and drove to work like it was any other Thursday. Because for me, it was I documented the exposure, protected my assets, and initiated the dissolution process.
Everything was proceeding exactly as planned. Angela could cry all she wanted, but crying didn't change test results. My niece Emma called me that evening, her voice tight with concern. She was 23, my sister's daughter, studying public health at Georgetown. We'd always been close.
Uncle Owen, she said, I heard about Aunt Angela. Mom told me, I'm so sorry. It's complicated, I said, pulling into a parking spot outside a restaurant where I was meeting my attorney for dinner. Is it true she got sick in Peru? It's true.
There was a pause. The thing is, I need to tell you something about Kyle Sheffield. I killed the engine and sat up straighter. You know him? We went to Princeton together.
Different years, but we crossed paths at a few parties. He had a reputation. What kind of reputation? Emma hesitated. He targeted older women, married women specifically, professional types with money and status.
It was like a game to him. He'd seduce them, manipulate them into paying for trips or buying him things, then disappear once he got bored or needed to move on. My hands tightened on the steering wheel. Did he have a pattern with diseases? I don't know about that specifically, but I know he traveled constantly and bragged about never getting travel vaccines or taking precautions.
He thought it made him tough. There were rumors he'd given people STDs and just ghosted them afterward. Why didn't you tell me you knew him? I didn't connect the dots until mom mentioned Angela went to Peru with someone from her work named Kyle. Then I looked him up on LinkedIn and realized it was the same guy.
Uncle Owen, I'm sorry if I'd known earlier. It's not your fault, I said. But I need you to do something for me. Write down everything you remember about him. Names of other women he targeted, schools he attended, places he worked, everything.
You're building a case. I'm building a profile. Your aunt isn't the only victim. There might be others who don't even know they were exposed. Emma promised to send me a detailed summary by tomorrow.
After we hung up, I sat in the car for a few minutes processing this new information. Kyle Sheffield wasn't just careless. He was predatory, calculated, and Angela had walked right into his trap. Inside the restaurant, my attorney was already waiting. I slid into the booth and ordered a drink I actually needed this time.