Detroit: Secret Love Triangle In Family Led To HIV & Double M*rder With Sh0tgun | HO

On February 8th, 2024, a double murder took place in a residential area of Detroit, exposing a 5-year chain of betrayals within one family.

Declan Hope had been working as a manager at a logistics company for 12 years.

His working day began at 7:00 in the morning and ended around 6:00 in the evening.

The company handled transportation throughout the Midwest, and Declan was responsible for coordinating routes and monitoring order fulfillment.

The work was monotonous but stable with a decent salary that allowed him to support his family.

He had bought a house in a quiet neighborhood in northwest Detroit 7 years ago when the real estate market had dipped slightly.

It was a small one-story house with three bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a tiny backyard where Kayla sometimes played in the summer.

Declan’s wife, Michelle, worked as a nurse at a local clinic on Forester Avenue.

Her shifts were unpredictable, sometimes days, sometimes nights, sometimes split shifts.

She was tired and often came home exhausted with dark circles under her eyes.

Michelle was a slender woman of 35 with dark skin and an attentive, slightly wary gaze.

She usually wore her hair in a tight ponytail so it wouldn’t get in the way at work.

She and Declan met at a party thrown by mutual friends 13 years ago and got married a year later.

The first years of their marriage seemed happy.

Then Kayla was born and life became a routine.

work, home, child, bills, rare weekends off.

Romance gradually disappeared, giving way to habit.

Declan couldn’t call their marriage unhappy, but he couldn’t call it happy either.

It was a coexistence of two people bound by a shared life and a child.

They talked about practical things, what to buy at the store, when to make an appointment for Kayla to see the doctor, how much money they had left before payday.

They hadn’t talked about feelings in a long time.

Kayla was in fifth grade.

She was a withdrawn girl who preferred to spend time with her phone or tablet rather than with her parents.

Declan tried to communicate with his daughter, but she responded in mono syllables.

Clearly annoyed by her father’s attempts to enter her world.

Michelle said it was normal for teenagers, even though Kayla was only 10.

Declan wasn’t sure it was normal, but he didn’t argue.

Declan’s mother, Viven, remarried 15 years ago, 3 years after his father’s death.

Brandon Moss, was a city bus driver, a quiet and uncommunicative man.

Declan accepted him as a member of the family, although they never became close.

Brandon retired 3 years ago and now spent most of his time at home, helping Viven with the housework or watching television.

They lived in a house on Lawrence Street in an old neighborhood where the houses were close together and the streets were narrow.

Declan’s younger brother, John, had always been strange.

He did poorly in school, had no friends, didn’t go to college after graduation, [music] and spent several years doing odd jobs.

2 years ago, he got a job as a loader at a building materials warehouse.

The pay was low, but it was enough for a rented apartment on the outskirts of town and minimal expenses.

John hardly ever talked to Declan except at family gatherings.

He was a quiet, withdrawn 34year-old who seemed interested in nothing but work and television.

Declan sometimes felt sorry for his brother, but he couldn’t help him.

Jon rejected any attempts to get closer to him.

On January 23rd, Brandon Moss turned 62.

Viven called Declan a week earlier and asked the whole family to come over for dinner.

Declan agreed, although he didn’t particularly want to.

At 6:00 in the evening, he, Michelle, and Kayla arrived at the house on Lawrence Street.

John showed up 10 minutes later, parking his old car on the side of the road.

The living room in Vivian’s house was small, but cozy.

Heavy curtains hung from the windows.

A dark sofa stood in the middle of the room, and an old carpet covered the floor.

Family photos hung on the walls.

Vivien and Brandon’s wedding, Declan and J’s graduation photos, and several pictures of Kayla as a baby.

In the center of the room stood a dining table covered with a white tablecloth.

Viven had prepared roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and a cabbage and corn salad.

There were bottles of soda, and a jug of water on the table.

The atmosphere was calm, almost sleepy.

Everyone ate in silence.

Viven tried to keep the conversation going, but her questions hung in the air.

Declan talked about work.

Nothing interesting, just more delays with deliveries and problems with drivers.

Michelle mentioned that the clinic had cut two nursing positions, and now the workload for the remaining staff had increased.

Jon was silent, focused on his food.

Brandon nodded, listening half-heartedly.

Declan stole glances at Michelle.

She looked tired, but that was normal for her.

Dark circles under her eyes, slightly slumped shoulders, mechanical movements with her fork.

But something about her behavior seemed strange.

Several times he caught her looking at Jon.

She would stare at Declan’s brother for a second, maybe two, then look away.

Jon didn’t look up, continuing to eat.

[music] Maybe Declan was imagining things.

He decided not to think about it.

After the main course, Vivien brought out a cake, chocolate with cream frosting.

She lit the candles and everyone sang happy birthday to Brandon.

He blew out the candles without making a wish aloud.

Listen, let’s do something similar for Michelle, Vivien suggested unexpectedly, putting down her cup of tea.

It’s her birthday soon, right? February 8th, if I’m not mistaken.

Michelle raised her head and nodded.

Yes, in 2 weeks.

Then it’s settled, Viven continued enthusiastically.

We’ll all get together and I’ll cook something special.

Maybe baked turkey or fish like you like.

Brandon, do you mind? Brandon shrugged.

Of course not.

Why would I mind? Let’s celebrate.

Declan looked at his wife.

Michelle smiled faintly, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

She looked tense as if she was uncomfortable with the attention.

That would be nice, she said quietly.

Thank you.

Okay.

At your place, Declan, Vivien clarified.

It’s a bit cramped here for the whole family to get together.

Yes, of course.

Come to our place, Declan replied.

We’ll get ready.

Vivien was delighted and began discussing the menu.

Michelle participated in the conversation half-heartedly, agreeing with all the suggestions.

Jon sat silently, staring at his plate.

Declan caught himself thinking that his brother also looked tense.

Maybe he was just tired after his shift.

Dinner ended around 10:00 in the evening.

Everyone began to get ready to leave.

[music] Kayla yawned, asking to go home as soon as possible.

Declan put on his jacket and helped Michelle with her coat.

They said goodbye to Vivien and Brandon and went out onto the porch.

John followed, said a quick see you later, and headed for his car.

The next day, January 24th, was Thursday.

Declan met Marcos Flores at a small cafe on Woodward Avenue.

They had agreed to meet the night before.

Declan needed someone to talk to, and Marcos was the only person he could trust.

They had been friends since school, played basketball together, and looked for jobs together after graduation.

Marcos worked in security at a large shopping center, responsible for monitoring cameras and responding to incidents.

He was a short, stocky man of 39 with a short beard and sharp eyes.

The cafe was almost empty.

They ordered coffee and sat by the window overlooking the street.

Outside, a few passers by wrapped in coats and scarves walked by.

January in Detroit was cold and gray.

Declan was silent, twirling his cup in his hands.

Marcos waited, unhurried.

He knew Declan wasn’t the type to talk about his problems easily.

I need some advice.

Declan finally said without looking up.

It’s about Michelle.

Marcos frowned and put his cup down.

What’s wrong? I’m not sure anything is wrong, but for the past few weeks, I’ve had this strange feeling.

It’s as if something is happening in the house when I’m not there.

Marcos didn’t interrupt, listening attentively.

It’s little things, you know, Declan continued.

Things aren’t where I left them.

I clearly remember putting a book on the coffee table, and in the evening, it’s on the shelf.

The sofa in the living room has been moved a couple of inches.

I noticed because there’s a dent in the carpet under the leg.

Once I came home from work 2 hours earlier than usual and there was a strange smell in the house.

I can’t really explain it.

It wasn’t perfume, more like, I don’t know, men’s deodorant or something.

Michelle said it was probably coming in from the neighbor’s window.

Maybe she’s right, but I still feel like someone was in the house.

Did you ask her directly? No, I don’t know how to start that conversation.

And if I’m wrong, it will destroy the trust between us.

Accusing my wife of cheating because a book isn’t where it should be.

That sounds paranoid.

But if I’m right? Declan fell silent, staring out the window at the gray street.

I just want to know the truth.

I don’t want to live with suspicion, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions either.

Marcos nodded, considering the words.

I see.

Have you thought about installing cameras? Declan looked up.

Cameras? [music] Hidden surveillance cameras? Small, inconspicuous ones.

You can put them in several rooms, in the living room, in the hallway.

If someone really comes to your house when you’re not there, you’ll see.

If not, you’ll calm down and forget about it.

The recording will show the truth, whatever it may be.

Declan was silent, considering the proposal.

The idea seemed both reasonable and repulsive, spying on his own wife in his own home.

“It’s not surveillance,” Marcos added, as if reading his thoughts.

“It’s protection.

If she’s not hiding anything, you’ll find out nothing more than that your suspicions were wrong.

If she is hiding something, it’s better to know now than in a year or 5 years when things will be even worse.

You have a right to know what’s going on in your own home.” Declan thought about it.

On the one hand, it was an invasion of Michelle’s privacy.

On the other hand, if she was really bringing someone home while he was away, she had already crossed all boundaries.

“Where can I buy these cameras?” he finally asked.

“There’s a store on Gracet Avenue near the intersection with 8th Mile.

They sell security system equipment, alarms, cameras, all that stuff.

I can give you the address.

The cameras are easy to install and connect to your phone via an app.

The recordings are automatically saved to cloud storage so you can view them at any time.

There are models disguised as everyday objects, clocks, chargers, smoke detectors.

No one will notice.

Declan took out his phone and wrote down the address Marcos gave him.

He spent the rest of the day and evening thinking about his conversation with Marcos.

When Michelle came home from work around 7:00, he watched her, trying to catch any signs of deception or nervousness.

She behaved as usual, changed into her home clothes, made dinner, helped Kayla with her math homework, watched some TV, and went to bed before Declan as always.

Nothing suspicious.

Maybe he really was paranoid.

But the thought of the cameras kept nagging at him.

On Friday, January 25th, Declan went to a store on Gracia Avenue after work.

It was a small shop with a display window filled with models of alarms and cameras.

Inside, he was greeted by a salesman, a thin, middle-aged man with glasses.

Declan explained that he needed hidden cameras for home use.

The salesman nodded without asking any unnecessary questions.

Apparently, such requests were common place.

He showed him several models.

Declan chose four small devices.

One disguised as a wall clock, another as a USB charger, a third as a smoke detector, and a fourth as an ordinary table lamp.

The salesperson explained how to connect and configure them using [music] an app.

The process was easier than Declan had expected.

The cameras ran on built-in batteries that lasted for several days.

Recording was activated when motion was detected.

All videos were automatically uploaded to cloud storage, which was password protected.

Declan paid in cash, picked up the bag with the cameras, and left.

At home, he hid the bag in the garage under some old stuff.

Michelle wasn’t supposed to see it.

On Monday, January 28th, Michelle worked the day shift from 8:00 a.m.

to 4:00 p.m.

Declan called work and said he wasn’t feeling well and would take the day off.

His boss grumbled something, but gave him permission.

Declan saw Michelle off as usual and wished her a good day.

As soon as her car disappeared around the corner, he took the bag with the cameras out of the garage and brought it into the house.

He installed the first camera in the living room.

He took the old clock off the wall and hung a new one with a built-in camera in its place.

The clock looked normal, giving no indication of its true purpose.

The lens was tiny, hidden behind the glass of the dial.

Declan turned on the camera via an app on his phone and checked the viewing angle.

The camera covered almost the entire living room, including the sofa and the entrance from the hallway.

He placed the second camera in the bedroom.

He plugged the USB charger with the camera inside into the outlet on the nightstand next to the bed.

The device looked completely normal like any other charger.

The camera was pointed at the bed and the bedroom [music] door.

He installed the third camera in the hallway.

He attached a smoke detector with a built-in camera to the ceiling near the front door.

From there, he could see who was coming in and out of the house.

He kept the fourth camera in reserve, hiding it in the garage.

Three cameras should provide enough information.

Declan checked all the devices through the app.

The picture was clear and the sound was recorded well.

He set up motion notifications.

The app would send a message to his phone every time the camera detected movement in the frame.

The recordings were automatically saved to the cloud and could be viewed at any time.

When everything was ready, Declan sat down on the sofa and looked around.

The house looked the same as always.

Nothing had changed externally, but now every movement was being watched by invisible eyes.

Declan felt both relief and nausea.

He was spying on his own wife.

3 days had passed since the cameras were installed.

Declan checked the app every hour, but so far nothing unusual had been recorded.

Michelle came home from work, did housework, and sometimes watched TV.

Kayla came home from school, did her homework, and spent time in her room.

The usual routine.

Declan was beginning to think that his suspicions were unfounded.

On Wednesday, January 31st, he decided to talk to his neighbor.

Ruth Kendrick had lived in the house to their right for 20 years.

She was a 54year-old widow who worked as an accountant for a small firm.

Ruth often sat on her porch in the evenings, even in winter, wrapped in a blanket and sipping tea.

Declan knew that she noticed everything that happened on the street.

Around 6:00 in the evening, while Michelle was still at work, Declan left the house and headed for Ruth’s house.

She was sitting on the porch with a cup in her hands.

When she saw him, she waved.

“Good evening, Declan.

Is something wrong?” He climbed the steps and put his hands in his jacket pockets.

Good evening, Ruth.

No, everything’s fine.

I just wanted to ask you something if you don’t mind.

Of course, go ahead.

Have a seat.

Declan sat down in an old armchair next to her.

He chose his words carefully.

You’re often at home during the day, aren’t you? And you must notice what’s going on outside.

Ruth smiled.

Well, I don’t spy on my neighbors, if that’s what you mean.

But yes, sometimes I sit here and see who comes and goes.

Why? I just wanted to know lately when I’m not home, have you noticed anyone coming to our house? Strangers? Unfamiliar cars? Ruth frowned, thinking.

I don’t remember any strangers.

The mailman comes, of course, but that’s normal.

But I’ve seen your stepfather’s car a couple of times.

Or is he not your stepfather? Brandon, I think his name is.

Declan felt something tighten inside him.

Brandon? When was that? I can’t say for sure.

Once about 3 weeks ago in the afternoon around noon or so.

The second time was last week on Thursday.

I think he came went into the house and left after 30 or 40 minutes.

I thought Michelle must have asked him to bring something from your mother.

They live nearby.

Yes, probably.

Declan said slowly.

Thanks for letting me know.

Is something wrong? Ruth looked at him intently.

No, everything’s fine.

I just wanted to make sure everything was okay while I was away.

Thanks again.

He got up and left without waiting for further questions.

When he got home, he sat down on the sofa and tried to calm down.

Brandon had come to their house when Declan was away twice, maybe more.

It could have been an innocent visit.

His mother had asked him to give something to Michelle or Michelle herself had asked him to bring something to bring.

There was no reason to panic.

When Michelle came home from work around 8:00 in the evening, Declan met her in the kitchen.

She looked exhausted, took off her jacket, and threw it on a chair.

“Hard day?” he asked.

“Same as usual.

The clinic is constantly busy.

We can’t keep up with the patients.” Declan paused, then casually asked, “By the way, has Brandon been by the other day? Did mom ask you to bring anything?” Michelle opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water.

“Yes, he came by a couple of times.” Viven asked me to pass on some jars of jam and some spices she bought in bulk.

She said we could use them, too.

She also took some of Kayla’s old clothes that I had been saving for charity.

Viven wanted to take them herself, but she doesn’t have a car, so Brandon gave her a lift.

The explanation sounded logical.

Declan nodded.

I see [music] a neighbor just mentioned that she saw his car.

Ruth is watching everyone again.

Michelle smiled.

She could be a detective.

Declan tried to smile back.

Michelle didn’t seem worried or nervous.

She was acting completely natural.

Maybe he really was worrying for nothing.

That evening, they had dinner together, watched some TV, and went to bed.

Declan couldn’t fall asleep for a long time, replaying his conversation with Ruth and Michelle’s explanations in his head.

It all seemed plausible, but something inside him continued to doubt.

On Friday, February 2nd, Declan woke up with a severe headache.

He attributed it to stress and lack of sleep, but by lunchtime, he had a fever, and by evening, he was shivering.

Michelle came home from work, felt his forehead, and told him to take his temperature.

The thermometer read 38.7.

“You need to see a doctor,” she said.

“It might be the flu.” “I’ll be fine,” Declan tried to brush it off.

“Don’t argue.

Tomorrow morning, you’re going to the clinic to get checked out.

The last thing we need is for you to end up with complications.” He didn’t argue.

The next morning, Saturday, he drove to the nearest medical center.

There he was examined by a doctor, a middle-aged woman in a white coat.

She took his temperature and blood pressure and listened to his lungs.

The symptoms are similar to a viral infection, she said.

But we need to run some tests to get the full picture.

When was your last checkup? A long time ago, Declan admitted.

About 2 years ago, I think.

Then let’s do a complete blood count to rule out other problems.

The results will be ready on Tuesday.

Declan had his blood taken and went home.

He spent the weekend in bed, his temperature holding steady, but not rising above 38.5.

Michelle gave him fever reducers and brought him food.

She was attentive and caring, as she always was in such cases.

Declan lay there and thought that perhaps his suspicions were absurd.

Michelle was a good wife and a caring mother.

Why did he ever doubt her? On Tuesday, February 6th, he received a call from the clinic asking him to come in to discuss the test results.

The administrator’s voice was neutral, but Declan detected a certain tension in it.

He arrived at the clinic in the afternoon right after work.

He was shown into the office of the same doctor who had seen him on Saturday.

She was sitting at her desk studying some papers.

When Declan entered, she looked up and gestured to the chair opposite her.

“Please sit down.” He sat down.

The doctor was silent for a few seconds, choosing her words.

“Mr.

Hope, your test results have revealed something that requires a serious conversation.

[music] Your HIV test came back positive.” Declan didn’t immediately understand what she was saying.

The words seemed to hang in the air, not reaching his consciousness.

What? He asked again.

You have been diagnosed with human immuno deficiency virus.

You are HIV positive.

I understand that this is shocking news, but it is important to remain calm.

This is not a death sentence.

Modern therapy allows you to live a full life for decades.

You need to start anti-retroviral treatment as soon as possible.

Declan sat there unable to move.

HIV.

How was that possible? He was married, [music] had never cheated on his wife, didn’t use drugs, and had never undergone any questionable procedures.

Are you sure? His voice sounded strange.

Maybe it’s a mistake.

We ran a second test to rule out a false positive.

Both tests showed the same result.

Unfortunately, there is no mistake.

The doctor continued to talk about treatment, viral load, CD4 cells, but Declan could hardly hear her.

One thought kept running through his head.

If he had HIV, then someone had transmitted the virus to him.

He had never cheated on Michelle.

That meant there was only one source.

It’s important that your wife gets tested, too.

He heard the doctor’s voice through the fog.

If you are sexually active, the risk of transmission is high.

She needs to get tested as soon as possible.

Yes.

Declan nodded mechanically.

I’ll tell her.

The doctor gave him referrals, brochures about treatment, and the phone numbers of specialists.

[music] Declan took everything, stuffed it into his jacket pocket, and walked out of the office as if in a dream.

Outside, he got into his car, and sat there for a long time, staring at the windshield.

HIV.

Michelle had brought it into their home.

She had slept with someone else, gotten infected, and then infected him.

All his suspicions had been true, worse than he had thought.

He returned home late in the evening.

Michelle asked where he had been for so long.

Declan lied, saying he had been delayed at work.

She didn’t ask any further questions.

He couldn’t talk to her now.

He couldn’t look her in the eye, knowing the truth.

He needed time to think about what to do next.

He didn’t sleep that night.

He lay next to his wife who had betrayed him in the most terrible way [music] and thought he could have made a scene right then and there, kicked her out of the house, filed for divorce.

But that wasn’t enough.

He wanted to know everything.

Who was this man? How long had this been going on? Did she know about her status? Cameras.

He had to wait until the cameras caught something.

Then he would have proof.

Declan spent the next few days in a state of tense anticipation.

Michelle either didn’t notice his coldness or pretended not to.

They hardly spoke, each busy with their own affairs.

Declan checked the camera app 10 times a day, but so far there was nothing suspicious.

On Saturday, February 10th, Michelle worked the day shift.

Declan stayed home, citing fatigue.

He saw his wife off at 8:00 in the morning and immediately opened the recording app.

He scrolled through the recordings from the last few days.

Nothing, just Michelle and Kayla doing their usual household chores.

Then he came to the recording from Friday, February 9th.

Michelle was home alone during the day.

Kayla was at school and Declan was at work.

On the recording from the living room camera, he saw the front door open at noon and a man entered the house.

Declan paused the recording and zoomed in on the image, John, his younger brother.

He played the recording further.

Jon and Michelle were standing in the living room talking about something.

The sound quality was poor, but Declan could make out a few words.

Then Michelle took Jon by the hand and led him into the bedroom.

The camera in the living room didn’t capture anything else.

They were out of view.

With trembling hands, Declan switched to the recording from the camera in the bedroom.

What he saw made him hold his breath.

Michelle and John were having sex on the marital bed.

The bed where Declan slept every night.

The recording lasted about half an hour.

Then they got dressed.

Jon left and Michelle stayed in the bedroom.

Declan turned off the phone screen.

His hands were shaking.

He reviewed the recordings from the previous days.

On Wednesday, February 7th, Brandon came over in the afternoon.

He also went into the house.

He and Michelle talked about something.

Then she took him to the bedroom.

It happened again.

Sex on the marital bed.

Brandon left after 40 minutes.

Declan sat on the sofa holding his phone in his hands.

His wife had slept with his brother and his stepfather in their house, in their bed.

While he was working, providing for his family, she was bringing other men here, members of his own family.

He didn’t know how long he sat there.

An hour, maybe more.

His mind was empty except for a dull pain somewhere deep inside.

Then came the rage.

A cold, heavy rage that filled his entire being.

He couldn’t act now.

He needed a plan.

In 2 days, on February 8th, it would be Michelle’s birthday.

The whole family would gather at their house.

His mother, Brandon, John, all the participants in this nightmare would be at the same table.

That’s when he would show them everything.

That’s when they would answer for what they had done.

Declan saved the recordings and copied them to a flash drive.

The evidence was irrefutable.

All that remained was to wait for the birthday.

Two days.

He could hold out for two days.

On the morning of February 8th, Declan woke up earlier than usual.

Michelle was still asleep next to him, turned on her side.

He looked at her back at her dark hair scattered across the pillow and felt nothing but a cold emptiness.

Today, she would find out what he knew.

Today, everyone would find out.

He got up, got dressed, and went down to the garage.

In the far corner, behind some old boxes of tools, lay a metal box locked with a key.

Declan opened it and took out a gun, a 9mm semi-automatic he had bought many years ago at a flea market.

The weapon was unregistered with no serial number.

He had never planned to use it.

He just wanted to have it for home defense.

Now, the pistol came in handy.

Declan checked the magazine.

Eight rounds.

Enough.

He inserted the magazine back in, cocked the hammer, and put the safety on.

He hid the pistol in his jacket, which he hung in the hallway.

No one was supposed to notice.

Michelle woke up around 9:00.

She went down to the kitchen where Declan was already sitting with a cup of coffee.

“Happy birthday,” he said in an even voice.

“Thanks,” she smiled stiffly.

I didn’t think you’d remember.

Of course, I remembered.

Everyone will be here tonight.

Mom promised to come at 6:00.

Yes, I remember.

They ate breakfast in silence.

Kayla came downstairs later, wished her mother a happy birthday, and went to her room.

The day dragged on slowly.

Michelle cleaned and cooked.

Declan helped, setting the table in the living room.

They hardly spoke.

Michelle tried several times to strike up a conversation, but Declan responded in mono syllables.

She chocked it up to his usual reticence.

By 5:00 in the evening, everything was ready.

The table was set, the food was cooked, and the drinks were in the fridge.

Declan went up to his bedroom, took out a flash drive with the saved recordings, [music] and connected it to his laptop.

He edited a short video, the most revealing fragments from both recordings.

Michelle with Brandon, Michelle with John.

A few minutes of video that would destroy everything.

He saved the file, closed his laptop, and went downstairs.

At exactly 6:00, Vivien and Brandon arrived.

His mother hugged Michelle, [music] congratulated her, and gave her a small gift, a box of chocolates.

Brandon nodded silently, walked into the living room, and sat down at the table.

10 minutes later, Jon arrived.

He looked sullen as always, congratulated Michelle Curtley, and took a seat across from Brandon.

Kayla went out to the backyard to play.

It was still light out, although the sun was already sinking toward the horizon.

Declan could see her through the window.

The girl was sitting on the swing, looking at something on her phone.

Five adults gathered at the table.

Vivien bustled about, arranging food on plates.

Michelle sat at the head of the table, smiling.

Brandon and John ate in silence.

Declan sat next to his wife, watching everyone.

His jacket hung on the back of the chair behind him.

“Well, let’s raise our glasses to the birthday girl,” said Vivien, pouring juice for everyone.

“They didn’t keep alcohol in the house.

Neither Declan nor Michelle drank.” “Everyone raised their glasses.

Viven made a short toast, wishing Michelle health and happiness.

They drank.

They began to eat.

The conversation was awkward.

Viven tried to keep it going, asking about work, Kyle, and plans for the future.

Michelle answered briefly, and Declan remained silent.

Brandon and John hardly participated in the conversation.

20 minutes passed.

Declan put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

I have a surprise for Michelle,” he said loudly, interrupting Viven’s latest attempt to start a conversation about the weather.

Everyone looked at him.

I made a special video.

A congratulatory message, you could say.

Michelle smiled uncertainly.

A video? That’s sweet, Declan, but it’s not necessary.

No, I insist.

It’s important.

Everyone needs to see this.

He stood up, took his laptop from the table against the wall and connected [music] it to the large TV in the corner of the living room.

He turned on the screen.

Everyone turned to face the TV.

Declan, “What are you doing?” Michelle asked, a note of concern in her voice.

“You’ll see.” He started the video file.

The screen showed their bedroom filmed by a hidden camera.

The date in the corner of the screen was February 7th.

Two naked bodies lay on the bed, Michelle and Brandon.

Vivien gasped.

Brandon froze with a fork in his hand.

Jon looked up at the screen.

Michelle turned pale.

Declan, [music] turn that off immediately.

Her voice trembled.

No, everyone will watch it to the end.

The video continued, an intimate scene lasting several minutes.

Then the frame changed.

Now on the screen was a recording from February 9th.

The same bedroom, the same bed, Michelle and John.

“My God,” Vivian whispered, covering her mouth with her hand.

Declan turned off the video.

He turned to the table.

Everyone sat in shock.

Michelle stared at the floor, her hands trembling.

Brandon lowered his head.

Jon didn’t move as if he had turned to stone.

Declan slowly got up and put on his jacket.

He reached into his pocket and took out a gun.

He placed it on the table in front of him.

The metal glinted dully in the lamplight.

Now we’ll talk, he said [music] calmly.

Viven screamed and recoiled from the table.

“Dean, what are you doing? Put that away.” “Sit down, Mom.

Don’t scream.” He picked up the gun, but didn’t point it at anyone.

He just held it.

I want to hear the truth from all of you.

Brandon, you start.

Brandon raised his head.

His face was gray.

Declan, I How long? Declan interrupted him.

How long has this been going on? Brandon was silent for a few seconds.

5 years, he finally said about 5 years.

Declan looked at John.

And you? Same.

Jon said quietly without looking up.

5 years.

5 years.

Declan repeated.

5 years you’ve been sleeping with my wife in my house in my bed.

Declan, it wasn’t our utan barked and Brandon fell silent.

Whose idea was it? Brandon and John exchanged glances.

Then Brandon nodded toward Michelle.

Hers.

She started it.

We [music] We couldn’t refuse.

Declan laughed.

short, angry, couldn’t say no.

I see.

He turned to his wife.

Michelle sat with her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the table.

Michelle, look at me.

She slowly raised her head.

Her eyes were full of tears.

I have one more question.

HIV.

Where did you get it? Michelle flinched.

Brandon and Jon looked at her at the same time.

HIV? Brandon repeated.

What are you talking about? I got tested last week.

The result is positive.

I have HIV and that means you all have it, too.

There was silence.

Brandon turned even paler.

Jon clenched his fists on the table.

Michelle.

Declan’s voice was cold as ice.

Where did you get HIV? She remained silent.

[music] Declan raised his gun and pointed it at her.

Viven screamed again.

Answer me.

from another man.

Michelle said barely audible.

A long time ago, three years ago.

I I didn’t know right away.

I only found out 6 months later.

And you kept quiet.

I was afraid.

Afraid you would find out that everything would fall apart.

You were afraid.

Declan repeated.

You infected me with a deadly disease and were afraid I would find out.

Declan, I’m sorry.

Shut up.

He lowered the gun and took a breath.

I want to know why.

Why did you all do this to me? Michelle looked at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I was bored in my marriage.

You’re always at work.

[music] We hardly ever talk.

I felt lonely.

It’s no excuse, I know, but I needed attention.

Bored? Declan said slowly.

You were bored? He turned to Brandon.

And you? What’s your excuse? Brandon lowered his head.

None.

I’m a weak person, she offered.

I couldn’t resist.

I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t handle the temptation.

John, same thing.

His brother didn’t look at him.

I can’t justify it.

It was weakness.

Declan stood looking at them.

At the wife who had betrayed him out of boredom.

At the stepfather who couldn’t resist temptation.

at the brother who turned out to be just as weak.

“You’ve ruined my life,” he said quietly.

[music] “My marriage, my family, my health, everything.” “Declan, please,” Vivian began.

“Let’s talk calmly.

You don’t want to do something you’ll regret later.” “Shut up, Mom.

You don’t understand.” He raised the gun.

He took it off [music] the safety.

“Dean, don’t!” Michelle screamed.

He pointed the gun at Brandon.

Brandon raised his hands.

Declan, wait.

We can.

The shot rang out deafeningly.

The bullet hit Brandon in the chest.

He fell back into his chair, his eyes wide open.

Blood poured from his mouth.

He tried to say something but couldn’t.

A few seconds later, his head fell lifelessly onto his chest.

Vivien screamed.

Michelle screamed too, covering her face with her hands.

Jon jumped up from his seat and backed away toward the wall.

Declan turned to his brother.

Jon raised his hands.

Declan, no, don’t.

I’m your brother.

Please.

A second shot rang out.

The bullet hit Jon in the stomach.

He doubled over, fell to the floor, clutching his wound.

Blood flowed through his fingers.

He gasped for breath.

Declan moved closer, and fired again, this time at his head.

Jon froze.

Viven slid from her chair to the floor, sobbing and screaming.

Michelle sat at the table shaking all over.

Declan turned to her and raised his gun.

“Dean, no!” she screamed.

“Please don’t kill me.

Think of Kayla.

She can’t be left without a mother.

Please.” Declan stood, aiming at her face, his finger on the trigger.

One movement, and it would all be over.

“Kayla,” he repeated.

“Did you think about her when you brought these men here? Forgive me.

Forgive me.

I made a terrible mistake, but please don’t take my daughter’s mother away from her.

She’s not to blame.

She’s not to blame for anything.

Declan stood there for a few more seconds.

Then he slowly lowered the gun.

“Get out,” he said quietly.

“Get out of my house now.” Michelle jumped up from her chair and ran to the door.

Viven got up from the floor, staggering, and followed her.

Both ran out of the house.

Declan walked to the window.

He saw Michelle running into the backyard, grabbing Kayla by the arm, dragging her to the car.

The girl resisted, not understanding what was happening.

Michelle forced her into the car and got behind the wheel.

The car sped off and disappeared around the corner.

Viven ran after them down the street, shouting something, but they were already far away.

Declan turned and looked at the living room.

Two bodies on the floor, blood on the carpet, on the wall, overturned chairs, uneaten food on the table, the gun in his hand.

He slowly sank down onto the sofa.

He put the gun down next to him.

It was over.

His life was completely ruined.

His wife had run away.

His mother was terrified.

His daughter was traumatized.

He had killed two people.

In a few minutes, maybe an hour, the police would arrive.

They would arrest him.

he would be sent to prison for the rest of his life.

But he didn’t care.

He had taken his revenge.

They had paid for their betrayal.

That was all that mattered.

Declan sat in the living room next to the bodies and waited.

He waited for it all to