Post by Finn Whelan on Mar 3, 2017 13:02:42 GMT
ooc: I began this last month as a piece to simply get into Finnegan's head. The only person that had seen this up to this point has been Shelly. One of the things I want to make sure I do from this point forward is make consistency through the rest of my writing for his story. As I told Nick, it's been a strange change from telling a story instead of the promo being the most important piece. Now, I'd like to just tell his story. This started around January 31st.
If you knew Finn from a couple of years ago, there would be no question as to what he stood for. He was happily married to a multi-time champion, who also was his trainer, and honestly, he never thought he would be sitting in any companies worth a damn, to be quite honest. Aaron Asphyxia, for those who don't know, had been around the world for fourteen years of her life, having started wrestling at such a young age and continuing on to do so into her late twenties. She retired, but only because of one thing. Family. She was going to give birth, and she decided it was time to put up her boots. Finn never had a choice in that decision, and though he agreed ultimately in the end, it wasn't like she listened to any argument he had either in or out of favor.
To be honest, the writing on the wall had been there for some time now, and he hadn’t recognized it. Perhaps he didn’t want to, maybe just refused to see it. For months now, he and Aaron fought, but it wasn’t publicized all over Twitter. Some people tend to keep their personal issues away from the eyes of the public. It started in September, when she saw his walking away from a company a pathetic move in the world of wrestling. There was always going to be losses, she said. There was always going to be someone who is going to be stronger in one moment. She said that he’d been primarily dominant in the company, and still could have been afterwards, but he’d walked out, which was a mistake.
Finn’d kept his mouth shut.
Then came the fights about the companies he’d chosen. Travelling to New York all the time? Not good for her or the fetus in the womb. Travelling to Japan for training sessions with the man she had set him up with? Apparently, one of the worst moves he could have ever made. Beratement, after beratement. It was never anything quite particular, just a new flavor every week when she chose to go bonkers. He chalked up her increased irritation to the baby, and that he knew she was crazy from the get go.
He kept his mouth shut.
Finn loved to argue, loved to fight, but there was one person he’d never raise his voice to out of respect. Aaron was his heart and soul, even when she obliterated both of them on a daily basis. Even when he wanted to shout expletives of all kinds, even when his fists clenched and his teeth ground together in anger, he never said a word.
At least, not until her jealousy came to play.
At one point in the last few months, he and his "sister", Elena, had a brief falling out. While there were a few things that could all be the reason to pin it on, nothing could be really picked. It could have been his walk out of the company. It could have been her sudden relationship with business mogul, Christian Mercer (truly, his first words over the phone were, "Who the fuck is that?! " rather loudly). It could have been one of their little spats they had, like the claimed siblings they were, just literally went too far. But the part that could be definitely decided as one of the reasons he’d stopped speaking to Elena for that one month prior to their joining at Phoenix Wrestling wasn’t only because of their own disagreements. Aaron had never really liked Finn being away, staying with Elena. Despite their insistence that it had only been, and only ever had been, a sibling relationship, she foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog whenever he mentioned New York City. She knew he’d be there, and she didn’t like it.
Of course, none of this was known to anyone. Finn and Aaron kept their life private, and Finn didn’t even open his mouth about Elena. He still hasn't, as it really isn't something that matters now. But eventually, he discovered the truth: Aaron liked games. She liked manipulating the situation. She partially caused Finn and Elena’s “break up”, yet was on Twitter constantly, wishing they would be friends again and saying how sad it was.
Still, he kept his mouth shut.
She was his wife, and the Irish never back away from their family. Besides, the little burrito in the oven was his.
At least, until it wasn’t anymore.
Finn had walked away from the hospital not because of the loss of the child, not because of the depression and horror that set in when he was told. Aaron complained of a bug in her stomach, nausea and headaches. He’d taken her to the ER, where the doctors admitted her after a couple of hours. He’d simply gone to get a cup of coffee, discovered the shop was closed after seven, and went down the street in Breckenridge’s ritzy streets to a coffee shop that was still open. The doctor had said there’d been complications, but he didn’t have a status, and that he would have to wait. There was no update until he walked in the next afternoon.
The fetus had no heartbeat, the doctors said. The fetus wasn’t quite even two pounds, owing to Aaron’s small stature, and only a few months along. They convinced her the best thing would be to deliver the baby at this point, as a cesarean would only cause a lot of damage and a scar. She delivered, in tears. She didn’t let him know.
In the event of stillbirths, the midwives or doctors often give the couple a choice to hold their cold, lifeless child, to name it and to cherish what could have been. Even as small as he was, the baby would have been a reminder of what was. A birth certificate, labeled deceased, would be given to the family so they could grieve, but there would be a name, and a face to remember.
She didn’t give him that choice. She didn’t call. She didn’t have enough respect for him to allow him to pick if he wanted to hold the empty life that would have been his son. She discarded him like a batch of stem cells, to be devoured by science and the incinerator.
He’d always been the one that wanted the child. Aaron hated kids, despite her love of teaching. Little ones, she said, were part of Satan’s spawn. But, he was definitely of a different mindset. He’d fallen in love with Isabella when Elena gave birth, and was one of the first to hold her when they were released. His niece was adorable. He liked kids. He always thought that one day, he would raise his own child to be something other than his mistake, something other than the father that raised him. Callien, for all intents and purposes, was ready to be a father.
But she didn’t give him a choice.
Still he kept his mouth shut.
Call it cowardly. Call it bastardly. Call it what you will. But when a life extinguished that was created by half of your DNA disappears in the space of eight hours with nothing left, something changes you. It would have been better if she’d bandaged the wound with an apology, but she didn’t even bother to do that. And to act like she was actually worried?
Aaron worried about nothing but herself.
February 3rd, 2017 - New York City
The bright, sunny day that lit up the city of New York glared its rays right through the floor length windows. The tiled floor, made to appear warm and inviting, was certainly much less. It was an office space, no matter how decorated it was with high-tech machinery and windows to let as much light in as possible. The plush couch was comfortable, but that didn’t change the pallor in the air. This was a place where people either had their lives rejuvenated, or they were completely destroyed.
Finn was banking on the latter.
He slouched, as he’d been doing for the last few days, in the poofy, leather couch that was for clients. His black jeans, something he’d insisted on wearing despite all advice from his sister and her husband, sat slightly in the sun, making him warmer than he’d wanted to be. They’d forced him into a button down plaid shirt, and told him if he wore the jacket, he’d be proving to the staunch assholes in there (Elena’s words) how much he was a shitbag, and how much more they’d try to take from him. He did as asked, but he refused to show any sort of dignity.
Kinda hard to do that when you’re seeing your soon-to-be-ex-wife for the first time in over two weeks. She hadn’t called. She hadn’t bothered to say a word. She served him with papers, carted to the Mansion by a ballsy kid in a suit that he almost took out the second he received them. She wasn’t playing around. And Finn finally lost it.
The disrespect could go on and on. It had for months now. He’d had enough. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed to all holy high hell. Even Satan would be freezing his proverbial burning ass off with the mood Finn was in.
A young lass, small, petite, and pretty in a Gucci suit, walked up to him, holding a clipboard in her hand and possibly the worst attempt at a smile she had. Her teeth were fake, her boobs were fake, and her ass was probably fake too, because he’d watched her eat a donut just minutes before and she looked like she was practically giving it a blow job. It didn’t take brain power to know she was fucking the boss. Secretaries didn’t make that much money. “Mr. O’Hanlon, right?”
Because that wasn’t the fucking name he’d given her twenty minutes ago at the front fucking desk.
He didn’t bother even responding.
She led him, that shitty smile of hers faltering, to a room with glass walls. It was the first time he’d laid eyes on her in two weeks, and fuck, she was still as beautiful as they day he’d met her. Her arctic blue hair, at the moment, was pulled into classic bun, and she wore a lovely ensemble of a black dress and a white jacket to match. She was classic, even with all her tattoos and all her piercings. She always did what she wanted. And she never waited two seconds until barreling into a cesspool. There was no conversation, though she knew how to turn a phrase. There was no cooperation. He’d realized that immediately, but that immediately was just too late.
She didn’t bother to look at him as he walked in.
“You have no representation?” Chris Fowler was a skilled lawyer in the divorce realm, he’d discovered after some drunken research on Google. He was a striking man at the age of 60, still looked clean cut, and ready for the action that would come his way. Finn should have expected no less; after all, Aaron had the money, as he was virtually reminded every time he stepped into a match. How does it feel to know your wife makes more than you?
Pretty shitty right now, thanks for asking.
“No.” Finn responded casually as he took his seat.
“Well . . . okay.” Perhaps he thought that, with Finnegan’s contacts, he’d at least try getting a lawyer to represent him. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. “Thank you for meeting with us, Callien. My client and I are here to negotiate a settlement with you.”
It was only then that Aaron looked at him, and Finn remembered what it was like to stare into her eyes. But at the same time, a thousand knives stuck into his skin and anger flooded him like a disease ready to be released upon the world in one fell swoop. He’d passed the denial phase, and now he was just simply at anger and aggression.
He didn’t say anything, just nodded. He felt as if he would scream epithets loudly at the woman in front of him, and that was something he was trying to bottle up once more. He’d conduct himself with as much propriety as he could. At least, as much as a former-brawler-turned-wrestler could.
“My client has agreed to the following: the apartment in Seattle is yours for the taking.”
No response.
“The land rover, should you choose to take it.”
No response.
“And twenty thousand dollars.”
“And what in exchange?” Finn snorted. There was always a catch. He should have known. It wasn’t like Aaron to have something that she wanted in return.
It wasn’t, also, the lawyer that asked. “Gag order, so that you can’t talk about me in your short career.” Aaron stated, emotionless as possible.
Just simply hearing Aaron’s voice set him off. It was easy enough to do, and now it was done. He leaned forward, peering at his former wife with the most intense glare that he could muster. A wrestler herself, she would probably be able to defend herself well, but that would only be after the kick in the gut, just the same as the one she’d given to him hypothetically.
“Always something you want, isn’t it?” He started, his voice a low growl. “Whatever Aaron Michelle wants, Aaron Michelle gets. She wants ice cream, go get it. She wants diamonds, go get it. And now you want to basically pay me off so that I don’t mention the waste of space you’ve become?” He snorted. “No deal.”
“Call-“, she started.
“Mr. O’Hanlon,” her lawyer stated.
“No.” He growled menacingly. “You’re not going to get shit from me, because there’s nothing to take, Aaron. You’ve left me high and dry, and honestly, I shouldn’t have been surprised, because that’s what you always do. When you don’t like something, you just march off and do whatever the fuck you please, without discussing anything first. You think some suited prick defending you over a glass table is going to save you from any little word I’m going to say? You don’t like how you’re portrayed in the media, you walk away. You don’t like how someone cooks something, you demand a new dish. You fucking waltz into a company, don’t get the top tier shot, and complain like a rookie bitch that thinks they're tough shit. And now you think I’m just going to lie down and not say one goddamn word about you because you want to give me a four-hundred-thousand dollar apartment, a car, and twenty thousand dollars as a payoff? When the fuck have I ever wanted any of that?”
Aaron’s face slowly went pale. He’d never opened his mouth, and now the floodgates had been let go of. He stood, placing his palms on the table and moving further in.
“Callien O’Hanlon!” Fowler was astonished at the behavior of his client’s ex-husband. But Finn was sure this was nothing to the high profile cases he’d handled prior, the richies of the world fighting over who was going to get which house in the Bahamas.
“You shut your goddamn mouth.” He pointed at him for only a second, not even bothering to look at him. “I married you not because you had money, or because you were a known commodity. I married you not because you drove a nice car, and could afford a nice place. I married you not because you put me through rehab. I married you because I loved you, because of the kind heart you carried, and the smile that was on your face. I married you because you were everything to me, and because you put trust in me. I’d never had that in the past, and I cherished it with everything in me.”
“Callien…” Aaron murmured. There were tears in her eyes, but it was probably from being embarrassed more than it was an emotion for him. Or it was post-partum tears.
“You decided to throw that away because I took a step away for five seconds to deal with the choices you made without even consulting me. Zachary should have been given a name, he should have been held, he should have existed. You threw all of that in the trash, and you didn’t even bother to fucking ask me what I thought. He was mine too, Aaron. My kid. I know you could give a rat’s ass about children, and you never showed any enthusiasm about having my kid, but the very least you could have done was not be a fucking selfish bitch and let me decide if I wanted to see him.”
“Mr. O’Hanlon!” Fowler yelled, stopping Finn for a moment. “If you cannot control yourself, I will be forced to get secur—“
“No fucking need. There is no deal, Fowler.” He kicked at his chair, pushing it back behind him. “There’s nothing to negotiate. I don’t want anything.”
“Mr—“
“Nothing.” Finn growled. “I’m not even going to mention her name because it’s not relevant. You can forgo paying me off. I want nothing of my life with her. And besides, she clearly wants nothing of me.”
He slammed open the door. Every eye in the office was upon him as he stormed out of the office with his shorn hair, his tattoos, black boots and angry persona, but honestly, he didn’t give a shit. He’d enter that elevator, he’d ride it down to the bottom floor, he’d take a taxi back to the Mansion, and in the guest house he would demolish all the extra bottles of Jameson that Elena stored simply for his visits. Anything to get the taste of bile and vulgar hatred out of his mouth.
He didn’t know he could hate a person as much as he did. He didn’t know that he could hate someone he’d once professed eternal love for. But now he did, and it would bury itself deep into his heart. He’d likely never give a shit again. He had everything that he needed now. His family, his career, and a box full of alcohol.
He would still keep his mouth shut.
••••
If you knew Finn from a couple of years ago, there would be no question as to what he stood for. He was happily married to a multi-time champion, who also was his trainer, and honestly, he never thought he would be sitting in any companies worth a damn, to be quite honest. Aaron Asphyxia, for those who don't know, had been around the world for fourteen years of her life, having started wrestling at such a young age and continuing on to do so into her late twenties. She retired, but only because of one thing. Family. She was going to give birth, and she decided it was time to put up her boots. Finn never had a choice in that decision, and though he agreed ultimately in the end, it wasn't like she listened to any argument he had either in or out of favor.
To be honest, the writing on the wall had been there for some time now, and he hadn’t recognized it. Perhaps he didn’t want to, maybe just refused to see it. For months now, he and Aaron fought, but it wasn’t publicized all over Twitter. Some people tend to keep their personal issues away from the eyes of the public. It started in September, when she saw his walking away from a company a pathetic move in the world of wrestling. There was always going to be losses, she said. There was always going to be someone who is going to be stronger in one moment. She said that he’d been primarily dominant in the company, and still could have been afterwards, but he’d walked out, which was a mistake.
Finn’d kept his mouth shut.
Then came the fights about the companies he’d chosen. Travelling to New York all the time? Not good for her or the fetus in the womb. Travelling to Japan for training sessions with the man she had set him up with? Apparently, one of the worst moves he could have ever made. Beratement, after beratement. It was never anything quite particular, just a new flavor every week when she chose to go bonkers. He chalked up her increased irritation to the baby, and that he knew she was crazy from the get go.
He kept his mouth shut.
Finn loved to argue, loved to fight, but there was one person he’d never raise his voice to out of respect. Aaron was his heart and soul, even when she obliterated both of them on a daily basis. Even when he wanted to shout expletives of all kinds, even when his fists clenched and his teeth ground together in anger, he never said a word.
At least, not until her jealousy came to play.
At one point in the last few months, he and his "sister", Elena, had a brief falling out. While there were a few things that could all be the reason to pin it on, nothing could be really picked. It could have been his walk out of the company. It could have been her sudden relationship with business mogul, Christian Mercer (truly, his first words over the phone were, "Who the fuck is that?! " rather loudly). It could have been one of their little spats they had, like the claimed siblings they were, just literally went too far. But the part that could be definitely decided as one of the reasons he’d stopped speaking to Elena for that one month prior to their joining at Phoenix Wrestling wasn’t only because of their own disagreements. Aaron had never really liked Finn being away, staying with Elena. Despite their insistence that it had only been, and only ever had been, a sibling relationship, she foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog whenever he mentioned New York City. She knew he’d be there, and she didn’t like it.
Of course, none of this was known to anyone. Finn and Aaron kept their life private, and Finn didn’t even open his mouth about Elena. He still hasn't, as it really isn't something that matters now. But eventually, he discovered the truth: Aaron liked games. She liked manipulating the situation. She partially caused Finn and Elena’s “break up”, yet was on Twitter constantly, wishing they would be friends again and saying how sad it was.
Still, he kept his mouth shut.
She was his wife, and the Irish never back away from their family. Besides, the little burrito in the oven was his.
At least, until it wasn’t anymore.
Finn had walked away from the hospital not because of the loss of the child, not because of the depression and horror that set in when he was told. Aaron complained of a bug in her stomach, nausea and headaches. He’d taken her to the ER, where the doctors admitted her after a couple of hours. He’d simply gone to get a cup of coffee, discovered the shop was closed after seven, and went down the street in Breckenridge’s ritzy streets to a coffee shop that was still open. The doctor had said there’d been complications, but he didn’t have a status, and that he would have to wait. There was no update until he walked in the next afternoon.
The fetus had no heartbeat, the doctors said. The fetus wasn’t quite even two pounds, owing to Aaron’s small stature, and only a few months along. They convinced her the best thing would be to deliver the baby at this point, as a cesarean would only cause a lot of damage and a scar. She delivered, in tears. She didn’t let him know.
In the event of stillbirths, the midwives or doctors often give the couple a choice to hold their cold, lifeless child, to name it and to cherish what could have been. Even as small as he was, the baby would have been a reminder of what was. A birth certificate, labeled deceased, would be given to the family so they could grieve, but there would be a name, and a face to remember.
She didn’t give him that choice. She didn’t call. She didn’t have enough respect for him to allow him to pick if he wanted to hold the empty life that would have been his son. She discarded him like a batch of stem cells, to be devoured by science and the incinerator.
He’d always been the one that wanted the child. Aaron hated kids, despite her love of teaching. Little ones, she said, were part of Satan’s spawn. But, he was definitely of a different mindset. He’d fallen in love with Isabella when Elena gave birth, and was one of the first to hold her when they were released. His niece was adorable. He liked kids. He always thought that one day, he would raise his own child to be something other than his mistake, something other than the father that raised him. Callien, for all intents and purposes, was ready to be a father.
But she didn’t give him a choice.
Still he kept his mouth shut.
Call it cowardly. Call it bastardly. Call it what you will. But when a life extinguished that was created by half of your DNA disappears in the space of eight hours with nothing left, something changes you. It would have been better if she’d bandaged the wound with an apology, but she didn’t even bother to do that. And to act like she was actually worried?
Aaron worried about nothing but herself.
•••
February 3rd, 2017 - New York City
The bright, sunny day that lit up the city of New York glared its rays right through the floor length windows. The tiled floor, made to appear warm and inviting, was certainly much less. It was an office space, no matter how decorated it was with high-tech machinery and windows to let as much light in as possible. The plush couch was comfortable, but that didn’t change the pallor in the air. This was a place where people either had their lives rejuvenated, or they were completely destroyed.
Finn was banking on the latter.
He slouched, as he’d been doing for the last few days, in the poofy, leather couch that was for clients. His black jeans, something he’d insisted on wearing despite all advice from his sister and her husband, sat slightly in the sun, making him warmer than he’d wanted to be. They’d forced him into a button down plaid shirt, and told him if he wore the jacket, he’d be proving to the staunch assholes in there (Elena’s words) how much he was a shitbag, and how much more they’d try to take from him. He did as asked, but he refused to show any sort of dignity.
Kinda hard to do that when you’re seeing your soon-to-be-ex-wife for the first time in over two weeks. She hadn’t called. She hadn’t bothered to say a word. She served him with papers, carted to the Mansion by a ballsy kid in a suit that he almost took out the second he received them. She wasn’t playing around. And Finn finally lost it.
The disrespect could go on and on. It had for months now. He’d had enough. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed to all holy high hell. Even Satan would be freezing his proverbial burning ass off with the mood Finn was in.
A young lass, small, petite, and pretty in a Gucci suit, walked up to him, holding a clipboard in her hand and possibly the worst attempt at a smile she had. Her teeth were fake, her boobs were fake, and her ass was probably fake too, because he’d watched her eat a donut just minutes before and she looked like she was practically giving it a blow job. It didn’t take brain power to know she was fucking the boss. Secretaries didn’t make that much money. “Mr. O’Hanlon, right?”
Because that wasn’t the fucking name he’d given her twenty minutes ago at the front fucking desk.
He didn’t bother even responding.
She led him, that shitty smile of hers faltering, to a room with glass walls. It was the first time he’d laid eyes on her in two weeks, and fuck, she was still as beautiful as they day he’d met her. Her arctic blue hair, at the moment, was pulled into classic bun, and she wore a lovely ensemble of a black dress and a white jacket to match. She was classic, even with all her tattoos and all her piercings. She always did what she wanted. And she never waited two seconds until barreling into a cesspool. There was no conversation, though she knew how to turn a phrase. There was no cooperation. He’d realized that immediately, but that immediately was just too late.
She didn’t bother to look at him as he walked in.
“You have no representation?” Chris Fowler was a skilled lawyer in the divorce realm, he’d discovered after some drunken research on Google. He was a striking man at the age of 60, still looked clean cut, and ready for the action that would come his way. Finn should have expected no less; after all, Aaron had the money, as he was virtually reminded every time he stepped into a match. How does it feel to know your wife makes more than you?
Pretty shitty right now, thanks for asking.
“No.” Finn responded casually as he took his seat.
“Well . . . okay.” Perhaps he thought that, with Finnegan’s contacts, he’d at least try getting a lawyer to represent him. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. “Thank you for meeting with us, Callien. My client and I are here to negotiate a settlement with you.”
It was only then that Aaron looked at him, and Finn remembered what it was like to stare into her eyes. But at the same time, a thousand knives stuck into his skin and anger flooded him like a disease ready to be released upon the world in one fell swoop. He’d passed the denial phase, and now he was just simply at anger and aggression.
He didn’t say anything, just nodded. He felt as if he would scream epithets loudly at the woman in front of him, and that was something he was trying to bottle up once more. He’d conduct himself with as much propriety as he could. At least, as much as a former-brawler-turned-wrestler could.
“My client has agreed to the following: the apartment in Seattle is yours for the taking.”
No response.
“The land rover, should you choose to take it.”
No response.
“And twenty thousand dollars.”
“And what in exchange?” Finn snorted. There was always a catch. He should have known. It wasn’t like Aaron to have something that she wanted in return.
It wasn’t, also, the lawyer that asked. “Gag order, so that you can’t talk about me in your short career.” Aaron stated, emotionless as possible.
Just simply hearing Aaron’s voice set him off. It was easy enough to do, and now it was done. He leaned forward, peering at his former wife with the most intense glare that he could muster. A wrestler herself, she would probably be able to defend herself well, but that would only be after the kick in the gut, just the same as the one she’d given to him hypothetically.
“Always something you want, isn’t it?” He started, his voice a low growl. “Whatever Aaron Michelle wants, Aaron Michelle gets. She wants ice cream, go get it. She wants diamonds, go get it. And now you want to basically pay me off so that I don’t mention the waste of space you’ve become?” He snorted. “No deal.”
“Call-“, she started.
“Mr. O’Hanlon,” her lawyer stated.
“No.” He growled menacingly. “You’re not going to get shit from me, because there’s nothing to take, Aaron. You’ve left me high and dry, and honestly, I shouldn’t have been surprised, because that’s what you always do. When you don’t like something, you just march off and do whatever the fuck you please, without discussing anything first. You think some suited prick defending you over a glass table is going to save you from any little word I’m going to say? You don’t like how you’re portrayed in the media, you walk away. You don’t like how someone cooks something, you demand a new dish. You fucking waltz into a company, don’t get the top tier shot, and complain like a rookie bitch that thinks they're tough shit. And now you think I’m just going to lie down and not say one goddamn word about you because you want to give me a four-hundred-thousand dollar apartment, a car, and twenty thousand dollars as a payoff? When the fuck have I ever wanted any of that?”
Aaron’s face slowly went pale. He’d never opened his mouth, and now the floodgates had been let go of. He stood, placing his palms on the table and moving further in.
“Callien O’Hanlon!” Fowler was astonished at the behavior of his client’s ex-husband. But Finn was sure this was nothing to the high profile cases he’d handled prior, the richies of the world fighting over who was going to get which house in the Bahamas.
“You shut your goddamn mouth.” He pointed at him for only a second, not even bothering to look at him. “I married you not because you had money, or because you were a known commodity. I married you not because you drove a nice car, and could afford a nice place. I married you not because you put me through rehab. I married you because I loved you, because of the kind heart you carried, and the smile that was on your face. I married you because you were everything to me, and because you put trust in me. I’d never had that in the past, and I cherished it with everything in me.”
“Callien…” Aaron murmured. There were tears in her eyes, but it was probably from being embarrassed more than it was an emotion for him. Or it was post-partum tears.
“You decided to throw that away because I took a step away for five seconds to deal with the choices you made without even consulting me. Zachary should have been given a name, he should have been held, he should have existed. You threw all of that in the trash, and you didn’t even bother to fucking ask me what I thought. He was mine too, Aaron. My kid. I know you could give a rat’s ass about children, and you never showed any enthusiasm about having my kid, but the very least you could have done was not be a fucking selfish bitch and let me decide if I wanted to see him.”
“Mr. O’Hanlon!” Fowler yelled, stopping Finn for a moment. “If you cannot control yourself, I will be forced to get secur—“
“No fucking need. There is no deal, Fowler.” He kicked at his chair, pushing it back behind him. “There’s nothing to negotiate. I don’t want anything.”
“Mr—“
“Nothing.” Finn growled. “I’m not even going to mention her name because it’s not relevant. You can forgo paying me off. I want nothing of my life with her. And besides, she clearly wants nothing of me.”
He slammed open the door. Every eye in the office was upon him as he stormed out of the office with his shorn hair, his tattoos, black boots and angry persona, but honestly, he didn’t give a shit. He’d enter that elevator, he’d ride it down to the bottom floor, he’d take a taxi back to the Mansion, and in the guest house he would demolish all the extra bottles of Jameson that Elena stored simply for his visits. Anything to get the taste of bile and vulgar hatred out of his mouth.
He didn’t know he could hate a person as much as he did. He didn’t know that he could hate someone he’d once professed eternal love for. But now he did, and it would bury itself deep into his heart. He’d likely never give a shit again. He had everything that he needed now. His family, his career, and a box full of alcohol.
He would still keep his mouth shut.