The Art Of Revenge (Thalia Nash and Brandon)

Chapter 24

The Art Of Revenge

Thalia’s Pov

I sat in the tub, tears streaming down the drain. Brandon was correct about the feelings of inadequacy

resurfacing. There was no way of coming back after being so cross and so sure of taking one’s own

life. Among the two people that stood on that bridge, he was the lucky one.

He was going to die while I was going to live with that shadow of suicide hovering over my back,

waiting for an opportunity to enter. An idle mind was indeed the devil’s workshop. I looked over, I

couldn’t comprehend how my eyes could shed so many tears.

I could hear a wheelchair as the door opened, but I remained in my folded position, unwilling to speak

to anyone. I ignored him as he cleared his throat and called my name.

He added, “Thalia, sobbing won’t fix anything, and you shouldn’t have watched the foolish wedding!” Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

He stated but I ignored him.

“Okay, fine, we’re running out of time.” He gritted his teeth and said “I looked for a quick approach to

take control of Gentex but came up empty-handed. Josh was precise in his take over; he paid attention

to the smallest details,” he said, bringing more tears to my eyes.

I was very much aware a month would be insufficient to bring Josh down, but I had faith in Brandon

because he was wealthy, and the wealthy always seemed to get what they wanted. To make matters

better, it was part of his job description to bring businesses down.

But there he was, reminding me of how well Josh had f**ked me up. I raised my head to face him, my

eyes red and swollen from crying, and asked if he had anything new that I didn’t know. He looked away,

avoiding eye contact. I sensed he was on to something, but I was hesitant to say anything. It was past

time for him to stop treating me like an egg.

“Brandon, just say it,” I said in a low voice.

“I discovered a clause in the paperwork that allows you to control half of the company which would

pave for access to the other shares,” he said.

My eyes widened, but his tone was off; he was meant to be making sarcastic remarks, but he was dead

serious.

“What? Please tell me, “You’re making me uneasy.”

“Thalia What I’m about to propose to you will alter your life forever, and it will necessitate sacrifice…”

“I told you I’d kill him earlier, just say it!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I was furious and didn’t want

him to be mincing words.

I wanted Josh’s head on a plate, dead or alive. After seeing Brandon lying on the bed half dead, it hit

me. Josh did not deserve a single day of happiness, not when I was still alive. I was going to take him

to hell with me.

He took a deep breath and stated, “There is a condition that distributes at least 60% shares to the first

child. I know your father was very particular on that clause and he was very explicit in underlining the

shareowner’s first child and his or her first spouse.”

I rolled my eyes, the shares were not mine, I had handed them to Josh on a silver platter, so I looked at

him perplexed.

“Thalia, you are Josh’s first wife, whether divorced or not. And if you and Josh have a kid, the shares

will be immediately given to the child,” he said as I began to freeze.

A memory quickly flushed, my father had emphasized on that clause. It was on the eve of my wedding

when he walked into my room and said something like if Josh ever cheated on me or had another

woman pregnant.

I recalled being irritated when he brought up the subject; the night was meant to be about celebrating

my last night as a single person, but he had to ruin it with clauses I didn’t want to hear about.

Then it dawned on me that he was merely looking out for my best interests, I kept my lips shut. He may

not have totally trusted Josh, but he was willing to risk the marriage for his friend’s sake as long as I

accepted.

I felt a wave of shame when I realized he had me covered all the time, but I was too st*pid to notice, so

I ended up signing off on his lifetime of hard work, all his sweat drained and flushed down the toilet.

“Thalia?” Brandon yelled out my name, “Thalia!”

“You don’t have to agree; a child is set of a new game. Mandel is still on the table as a present for you

when I die,” he said but I was not interested in his company, I wanted what my father labored for.

“What if Jessica and Josh had a child?” I asked, ignoring his last statement.

“Thalia, Consider something objectively rather than emotionally,” he replied.

“Please respond to the question.”

“Josh would subsequently learn of the clause, there is always a revision in clauses when a changing

moment happens. He is the shareowner, he can remove the word FIRST.”

“So, before he changes it, I need to get pregnant?” I asked.

“Certainly,” he replied. “It would be difficult for him to change the clause if a child with his first spouse is

born. However, we can ensure that he never conceives.”

I got out of the tub and stared at him; he seemed to have thought everything through and was putting

me to the test. I’d only known Brandon for a few days, but I knew he wouldn’t have brought it up unless

it was absolutely necessary.

“How?” I asked.

“Josh punished you with fake fertility pills, put you on birth control, and made you worthless. What if we

did the same to him?” he said, raising his eyes to me.

My heart began racing fast and a smile nearly escaped my lips before I forced it in. Total vengeance,

reclaiming what he robbed me of, motherhood and while at it, taking away the company he labored to

steal. The jerk in front of me was a total genius, no wonder he was untouchable even when he was

dying.

“Explain?” I ordered.

“Once we obtain the sperm we need and I’m pregnant you, we do an Orchiectomy (removal of both of

his testicles),” he replied without blinking.

A shiver ran down my spine. I suppose the ruthless Brandon Fraser, Nestor was talking about was

seated in front of me, not the one I met earlier who had lost hope in life, but the one who delighted in

wrecking people’s businesses and lives, leaving them dry, and bouncing from one to the next without

regard.

“Thalia If you do not want to, my directors will find another method to get your company, but I will not be

alive to witness it,” he proposed.

“Will I have to sleep with him? What if I’m unable to conceive on my first attempt? and will he discover

he doesn’t have testicles?” I inquired further.

“No, I’ll put him in a situation that will put him on an operating table in a theater, and the sperms will be

retrieved under that disguise, a quarter for your insemination and the other for storage. Then we cut off

his junk.”

“But will he know?” I swallowed hard.

“Perhaps, but he’d be too preoccupied to remember the clause, and we won’t allow him to harvest the

sperms,” he added.

For a little moment, I was silent, trying to digest everything.

“You have all night to consider it, particularly if you want to have a child with the devil?” He said and

was about to wheel out of the room when I stopped him.

“What about the child’s custody?”

“It’s all yours, and you can exploit his history of abuse to ensure he doesn’t even get visiting hours.”

“Stealing his sperms, on the other hand, isn’t a crime? Right?” I asked.

“We can create a false one-night stand with photos that he will never have to remember,” he said and

walked out of the room.

I was at cross ends, a child for vengeance? That was crossing a line where there was no return. What

would the child think of me if he or she grew up to learn that I had given birth to them solely to exact

vengeance? Was it right to lead a helpless soul into a life of hatred?

I started pacing the room, wondering if I could love that child. Or would they ever forgive me if they

discovered my obsession for revenge?

I roared in frustration, knowing that I only had one shot; waiting for the directors would take years, and

the fool would be happily married with four children, and the clause would have been changed. There

were so many factors at play, so many things to give up, and so many people, including myself to hurt,

all for my selfish gain.