The Art Of Revenge (Thalia Nash and Brandon)

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Thalia’s Pov

The yacht cruise was exactly what we both needed to unwind and let go of some of the tension that

had built up from being indoors and plotting our vengeance. Josh and Jessica were on the verge of a

major meltdown.

A normal couple would have survived and thrived if their relationship was built on love, trust, and

honesty.

They were both, however, self-absorbed, egotistical, money-hungry jerks. Money, money, and more

money were the focus of their existence.

Brandon was well aware of that, and it was this knowledge that he was using against them and laying

the groundwork for their demise…

According to one of his men, Josh went to a strip club, and his wife followed him in, to our shock there

was no altercation.

Jessica had paid for the stripers, despite her best efforts to remain undetected. We were perplexed as

to why a wife would pay for strippers. Perhaps she was attempting to entice him to sleep with them.

But there was one thing that bothered me: Josh’s continued ignorance about his lack of testicles. I

wanted to see the look on his face when he realized he would never be able to have a child with his

own willpower.

Brandon, on the other hand, was enthusiastic about keeping that knowledge, believing it to be

beneficial to both our and their sides.

I trusted Brandon and proceeded with his suggestion; all I wished for was that nothing would backfire.

It was almost past midnight when we returned to the beach home. We simply landed the Yacht on the

docks and went inside because Brandon was so weary. He had not caught any fish, but I had managed

to catch two.

I pledged to smear it all over his face for the rest of his days. I had finally discovered an area in which I

excelled better than him.

He jumped into the bed as soon as we walked in, completely oblivious to the fact that he was

drenched.

I noticed he usually slept in damp clothes, I suspected it had something to do with his changing

temperature, but I felt bad for Maggie, who was always left with the job of washing the damp sheets.

Before going to shower I walked to the kitchen and put the fish in the freezer. I walked back to the

bedroom and said; “Brandon, put something dry on.”

He responded, “Come help me remove them.”

My cheeks flushed hotly as I suddenly began contemplating dirty things. I turned away and saw him

smiling and staring back at me as I turned around.

He resisted the need to speak and instead closed his eyes. I just sat there looking like a fool, as if I

were the world’s biggest idiot.

I wanted to slap myself in the face and bring myself back to reality. I didn’t need thoughts of Brandon

naked in my head. I had previously seen him naked but had paid little attention to him.

However, I had stored images of his naked body in the back of my mind, and they had just emerged

when he asked me to remove his garments.

I got up fast and headed to the shower, a decision I would later come to regret. I found myself

caressing myself in the shower as my thoughts of him naked intensified.

Something I’d never done before: I was never a naughty girl, one could easily mistake me for a church

girl. I discovered why Nestor labeled Brandon toxic.

I began by stroking my breasts, as they were the part of me that he admired and desired the most.

There was no harm, I reasoned, but it felt so good that I lost control and slid down my honey pot.

I was already wet and aching, and all I needed was for him to walk in and thrust his big c**k into me. I

swore if he walked in I would have not stopped him.

Yes, it was unethical, but I had a strong desire for him. Having filthy thoughts for a friend was not a

crime.

I was simply returning the favor when he stated it and or***smed on my leg. Images of him began to

replay in my thoughts as I kept touching myself. My legs began to wiggle and as soon as I sank into the

tub, bolts of electric sweet feeling hit me; as I let out a moan.

My legs went completely numb; I’d never felt such an exquisite sensation between my legs before. No Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

one had ever made me feel that way before, not even Josh.

I was unfamiliar with such explosive intense feelings. All I had to do was picture Brandon, I wondered

how it would feel like in fresh. I took a deep breath in, exhausted all of my energy, and laid down in the

tub.

A voice, a voice I didn’t want near the door, was the only thing that pulled me back to reality. “I’m

hungry, Thalia,” he said.

I had left the Jerk napping, he was still sleeping when I walked in the shower, but somehow he was up

and standing outside the bathroom door.

I began to wonder how long he had been standing outside the door. I froze in embarrassment, wanting

for the bathtub to open and swallow me whole.

“Thalia? Thalia? Are you in there?” he inquired, but I kept silent until I realized that if I did not respond,

he was going to enter.

“I will come… over and… cook for… you?” I stumbled over my words.

There was silence but I heard footsteps moving away from the door. As I yelled, I sank my teeth into

my palm.

There was a high possibility that he had overheard me mast**bating. I felt as if I was going to die, and

in fact, I wanted to die.

How could I mast**bate in someone’s house, I was so stup*d? I had no brain cells, I just sat in the tub,

hoping he’d fall asleep and forget about it. I stayed in the restroom for an extended period, and I had no

idea how long I was there until another knock brought me back to reality.

“It is acceptable to mas***rbate, Thalia, is it all-natural?” He said. I unfroze and cried out.

He offered me to taste his scrambled eggs and said, “I also mast**bate.” He had apparently grown tired

of waiting for me and had prepared the eggs himself. However, the truth was that he had overheard me

mast**bating.

I wasn’t going to leave the bathroom until I died of hunger. The shame was too much for me, so I began

crying, the tears fell like a river.

“Thalia, it’s normal, after all the fun we had,” he explained. “I promise I’ll keep it a secret between us.”

In his tone, I detected a trace of mockery.

He was laughing at me. The jacka*s was making fun of me. I wrapped my arms around my knees and

sobbed, cursing myself for being an idiot. I’m not sure how I fell asleep, but it was already past midnight

when I awoke.

I was exhausted and hungry, and I needed to get out, regardless of how much I disliked it. Why was I

embarrassed when he or*asmed on my leg? As I stood over the shower, I began to console myself.

I stood over the door and peered when I was finished. On the other side, there was no one. I stepped

out cautiously and spotted him asleep, his wet clothing outside the bathroom door.

He had changed into his pajamas and most likely walked to the bathroom to change out of his wet

clothing when he heard me mast***bating.

I glanced to my left and noticed that he had left me a plate; how lovely, I thought, but instantly put on a

serious expression.

Before grabbing my pajamas and heading back to his room, I tiptoed over to his side and double-

checked that he was sleeping.

I ate the eggs and went to bed; I needed a lot of rest because the next day was going to be terrible for

me.

He was not going to let it go, and I was in a lot of trouble. As I slid into bed and covered myself, I

continued to beat myself. I considered sleeping on the couch, but that would just add to my guilt.

It didn’t take long for me to be startled awake by a loud noise. I looked to my left and found him

beaming at me.

The jerk had the nerve to get up early in the morning. He remarked, “Josh almost smacked Jessica.”

As he pointed up the screen, I looked at him, puzzled. I raised my eyes to see Josh and Jessica

arguing. I turned to face him and saw him smiling; he was waiting for my response, but my head was

still clouded by the nonsense I had done in the bathroom the night before.

I’d spent the entire night planning how I was going to turn the situation around so he’d never talk about

it again.

“He should have hit her,” I said, clearing my throat. “Domestic violence would ruin investor relations.”

He remained deafeningly silent, his meaningless grin fixed on him. “How far are you willing to go in

blaming him for my disappearance?” I inquired, but he simply stared at me.

“Brandon!” I exclaimed, frustrated.

He said, “Was it your first or*asm?”

I said, “Yes,” with a solemn tone.

“Poor thing,” he said as he stood up, “I’m going to make Josh pay for it; that m*ron will suffer in hell,” he

said and asked me to show him how to cook fish, which surprised me.

The Brandon, I knew would have rubbed everything in my face for the rest of his life, l was left

stunned.

He abruptly dropped the subject, possibly due to my forthright response. Before he changed his mind

and went into the kitchen, I shook my head and stood up.

I found him dressed in an apron, and not once did he ever mention the subject. I had the impression

that he was torturing me and that he was well aware of it.

“How did you manage to fault all the dialysis equipment in this country and outside?” I questioned,

needing to get the ordeal off my mind.

He stated, “Hired a tech man to design a magnetic gadget that, if pressed in the same room as a

dialysis machine, will destroy it.”

I locked my gaze on him, the jerk had a large number of brain cells. He proceeded to flick the fish while

ignoring me.

He was too focused on the fish and unconcerned about the ordeal from the day before. We finished

cooking and returned to the bedroom, where we ate quietly.

Something behind him drew my attention: his foolish calendar, which had exactly four days remaining

on it, indicating that he had gotten up early to mark his calendar rather than my insane mast***bation.

I felt a rush of humiliation wash over me, so I took his hand in mine and smiled carefully.

He asked, “When are you going to test for the pregnancy?”

I said, “On Monday, are you going with me?” I went on to say. He grimaced and hastily withdrew his

hand away. He got up and said, “I lost my appetite.”

“Please, Brandon,” I pleaded as I stood up, “I’m sorry, I just hope you’ll be there,” I said.

He sat down on the bed and replied, “I abandoned hope many years ago; I just don’t want to be

disappointed.” I took a seat next to him on the bed.

It was not going to help to talk about the days so I decided to talk about our plotting. I inquired, “What’s

the next move?”

“Josh will be apprehended and interrogated in an hour?” with a phony smile, he said I grinned and

checked my texts on my phone before he went on to explain everything.

The following day, he appeared more gloomy, and on the third day, he just stayed in bed. I didn’t want

to push him, so I decided to stay back in bed and watch as Josh’s life was turned upside down by my

disappearance.

The FBI was after him, and neither he nor his father were spared by the media. As I saw, all the

atrocities they had done to me and my father come to light. Finally, the rest of the world learned about

my story. The side of the story that Josh had made sure no one knew about.

There were rumors that he had me killed, and he even spent two days in jail while the government

dismantled his company.

We hadn’t even started the complete plot to take him down but it seemed like he was already crawling

on the floor.

He maintained his innocence, but he appeared to be guilty, especially because he had married his

lover right after I was last seen. He had the best lawyers, who were able to get his release on bail.

Brandon, on the other hand, seemed unconcerned about that; all he wanted was to distract Josh and

his father so that I could have the baby.

The two cases he’d made were large enough to last a year or more. That was plenty of time for me to

give birth and reclaim my company.

Brandon had already begun addressing the other minor shareholders with the intention of buying their

shares. The scandals were too much for them, and they were considering abandoning ship.

If only my father was still alive to witness the crumble of the enemies that had betrayed his generosity.

However, the reality was that the person who had made everything possible was not going to be

present.

That was the sobering fact that I was always confronted with. I prayed as I clutched his hand.