THE MAN THEY TRIED TO ERASE

5

The Walton family’s living room felt taut with tension that afternoon. Heavy burgundy drapes were drawn tight across the windows; only the chandelier’s crystal glow lit the space. Daniella sat in an upholstered chair, legs crossed with practiced grace, but her fingers kept tapping the armrest. Hans stood nearby, lighting a cigar, face set in thought. Christy, the mother, folded her arms around herself and watched her daughter with a look that mixed anger and worry.

“Tomorrow… he’s actually going to stand at the altar with Ruth Callahan,” Daniella whispered, as if she could still not believe what had happened.

Hans exhaled a cloud of smoke lazily. “I don’t get it either. How could a woman like Ruth choose a man like Finn? A nobody, a lunatic.”

Christy slammed her palm against the arm of her chair. “That can’t happen! Do you know what this means? If Finn really marries Ruth, all the access, all the clout, all the investments we’ve been chasing will fall into his hands. He will be above us. He… that street rat!”

Daniella snorted, eyes flashing with anger. “I won’t let it happen. Four years ago I got rid of him — had him thrown into that asylum. I thought he was finished… I thought he’d never come back. And now? He returns stronger than I ever imagined.”

Hans moved closer and laid a hand on Daniella’s shoulder. “Relax, darling. There are many ways to take someone like Finn down. He’s on the rise now… but remember: the higher someone climbs, the harder they fall.”

Christy turned sharply. “What do you mean?”

Hans offered a cold smile. “We attack his reputation. We reopen old wounds. We make everyone—especially Ruth—believe that Finn really is crazy. That he’s dangerous, unstable, and only after Ruth’s money.”

Daniella frowned. “How? Ruth isn’t stupid. She’s a very sharp businesswoman.”

Hans paced slowly across the room. “Not with logic. Even the strongest women can be broken by drama. We stage something — a performance. Tomorrow, at the altar, in front of everyone, we reveal our version of the truth. We claim Finn is using a false identity, show medical records from the asylum, bring witnesses…”

Daniella straightened, her eyes lighting up again. “Witnesses? Who can we call?”

Hans smiled thinly. “I still have contacts — a doctor who used to work at the asylum where Finn was sent. He’ll speak for the right price. We can also call two nurses who handled Finn before. They’ll swear in front of the guests that Finn is dangerous.”

Christy gave a short, vicious laugh. “Oh my God… perfect. Imagine Ruth’s face when she hears all that on her wedding day. Humiliated, angry, deserting Finn at the altar. We destroy him… at his happiest moment.”

Daniella rose, her expression hard. “Yes… I want to see that. I want to see Finn on his knees, begging, while everyone laughs. Just like they did to him before.”

Hans patted Daniella’s shoulder with satisfaction. “Relax, darling. Tomorrow, a new game begins.”

---

Elsewhere, at Ruth’s lavish mansion, the mood was the exact opposite. The dining room’s chandeliers cast warm reflections across a long table piled with lavish dishes. Ruth sat across from Finn, but tonight her focus was not the food — it was him.

“You seem restless tonight,” Ruth said, sipping her red wine slowly.

Finn shook his head and gave a faint smile. “No. Just… thinking about a lot.”

Ruth leaned forward, chin in her hand. “About what? The future? Our wedding tomorrow?”

Finn inhaled, then exhaled. “Yes. It all feels so sudden. Four years… I spent them behind asylum walls. Now I sit here beside you, and tomorrow I stand at an altar. It feels like a dream.”

Ruth smiled warmly and reached for his hand on the table. “Dreams often come unexpectedly. And I’ve never regretted choosing you, Finn. You’re unlike any man I’ve had. You’re… wild, wounded, and that makes you real.”

Finn looked at her for a long beat; something flickered in his eyes — a secret, a wound he still hid. He covered it with a small smile. “I’m lucky to have you, Ruth.”

They sat in silence, the only sounds the ticking clock and clink of cutlery, until Ruth spoke again.

“Finn,” she softened, “tomorrow many eyes will be on us. They will judge and whisper. You must be prepared.”

Finn straightened, his expression turning serious. “I’m used to being judged, insulted, humiliated. That’s nothing. More importantly… I will never let anyone touch you.”

Ruth smiled and rose, moving to his side. She leaned down and kissed his lips briefly. “Sweet words. Don’t make them empty. Prove it to me.”

Finn stood and wrapped his arms around her waist, returning the kiss more deeply. For a moment, the old wounds vanished, replaced by a warmth Finn rarely felt.

---

The warmth didn’t last. Later, Finn stepped out onto the mansion’s balcony and stared at the star-speckled sky. He lit a cigarette; the smoke curled into the cold night. His thoughts drifted back to Daniella, Hans, and the humiliations he’d suffered.

Tomorrow, he knew, would be more than a wedding. It would be a battlefield.

“Tomorrow…” Finn muttered to himself, “we’ll see who breaks in front of everyone.”

Back at the Walton house, Daniella regarded the luxurious gown hanging in her room. Her fingers brushed the fabric; her smile was hard.

“Tomorrow you’ll never touch Ruth, Finn,” she whispered. “Tomorrow… I will destroy you again.”

Hans stepped into the room and wrapped his arms around Daniella’s waist from behind. “Relax, love. Everything’s set. I’ve even arranged for people to be at the reception. They’ll speak at the right time. Finn will never see the altar as Ruth’s husband.”

Daniella closed her eyes and savored the thought. “Yes… tomorrow, he’ll kneel. Just like before.”

They laughed quietly together as the clock ticked on, the countdown to a wedding that was less a promise than the start of a war.