The Art Of Revenge (Thalia Nash and Brandon)

10

Thalia’s Pov

As he began walking away, I felt a shiver run down my spine; he was serious about taking Josh down.

But why was that? He had certainly never met him before. Why would he waste his time on someone

he didn’t know?

Then I remembered that he didn’t have time, he wanted something to occupy his mind or pass the little

time. I hurriedly sn*tched up my plastic bag and trailed behind him.

He posed after noticing that I was following him. He turned slowly and reached into his pockets, pulling Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

out a lunch bar and hurling it at me.

As I sn*tched it, I scowled; he was clearly a high-class jerk. He took out his phone, turned on the

flashlight, and led the

way.

“Watch your step, this area of the bridge is dangerous,” he said.

“What is the plan?” I inquired.

“I’m parked down there as I mentioned earlier,” he explained. His tone had changed; he was calmer, if

not enthusiastic, but not in a lively way. I gently made my way across the bridge until it was time to

descend.

From the cliff to the main road, there was quite a drop. I had to toss my plastic down and began

climbing down with my back facing the ground.

The jerk couldn’t even assist me even though I was wearing a skirt; he just stood there staring and

pointing the meaningless flush at me. “Stop pointing the flush at me, you m*ron!” I yelled at him.

He remained silent, though, and continued to display the foolish flush. I was down swiftly and irritably

took up my plastic. I swear I wanted to punch him in the face and break his skull, but I restrained

myself.

I wasn’t going to grant him his request so easily, he was already a walking corpse. He smirked, turned,

and walked to the car, I took a deep breath.

He wasn’t worth it. I told myself. His car was parked only a few meters away, and when I saw it, I halted

as a wave of anxiety swept over me. Doubts began to creep into my mind: what if his story was

fabricated? What if Josh paid him to embarrass me? Everything seemed to be too nice to be true.

He grabbed a stone and slammed the front window, sending shivers up my spine. He shouted, “Ooh

sorry, I previously chucked the keys down the river!” as he continued to break in. In minutes, he was

discreetly seated in the passenger seat; he didn’t bother summoning me, he knew I was pondering

whether or not to join him.

He sat there waiting for me to make a decision. A small voice at the back of my mind assured me that it

was not a fake. Maybe I was giving Josh too much credit; there was no way he could have paid a sick

man to deceive me. Brandon. appeared genuinely ill, and no amount of acting or makeup could have

made him look that way.

I noticed a tree branch to my left and hastily pulled on it, splitting a section. I would surely plunge it in

his heart if he was a phony and working with Josh. Then go after Josh and his sk*nk. Brandon was

absolutely correct about one thing. I gave up far too easily. I hurriedly walked to the car with the stick in

my hand, he peered up at me then at the stick I was carrying.

“Were you going to hit me with that?” he chuckled.

“Very soon, very soon,” I said.

“It’s freezing, get in, you’re driving?” he said, feigning a smile.

I looked at him, puzzled.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve never driven a car before!” He inquired, his brows furrowed,

I rolled my eyes and got inside the car, making sure to lay my caution stick close to me. I bent down,

cut the wires, and the car started with a smidgeon of spark. He clapped, clearly impressed.

He gave me a destination and for the first mile, we drove quietly. I turned around and to my surprise, he

was sleeping: I stared at him, dubious.

I slowed down and stopped in the middle of nowhere taking my phone out. I needed to be sure, so I

quickly typed Brandon Fraser into my search engine. Hundreds, if not thousands, of images and stories

about him, abound..

Ifroze when I saw his shirtless images; he wasn’t horrible, okay he was definitely hot like super hot, at

least he was back then.

I told myself to concentrate while I combed through his articles. The jerk was filthy rich, like ten times

what Josh got from me, but I noticed that the majority of the articles were over two years old.

Probably about the time he became ill and droped out of the public eye.

After that, all articles were rumors and speculations regarding his whereabouts, with claims that he was

dead before his illness was revealed, even though the articles claimed to be guessing. It was as if he

had paid or sued several individuals to keep things quiet.

I was about to start reading an article when he turned and opened his eyes. I hastily tossed my phone

into the glove compartment and resumed driving.

“What made you come to a halt?” he inquired.

“I was scratching my head,” I replied, unsure what to say.

“I hope you enjoyed what you were reading, he scoffed. He turned and added, “I was pretty gorgeous

back then.

I had no idea how he knew I was looking up information on him. I assumed he was sleeping. I

remained silent without responding. I stepped on the throttle and rushed away it was already late, our

destination was three hours away

At the very least, his story seemed to match several publications, albeit not in a clear image, but it had

some truth. I chose to focus on the road ahead, but I kept an eye on him in case he stopped breathing

or did something stup*d. I could only imagine the articles if he died in the car with me; I’d be declared

guilty on the spot.

There were red flags all over the place, a woman loses everything in her divorce and murders a dying

billionaire. Just thinking about that made me snort.

After three hours, I was soon at the beach house; I wasn’t sure if it was the right one, but it was

stunning and huge, my father had one similar but we had neighbors. This one was built all alone and

secluded from civilization.

It was 4 a.m. as I looked at my watch. I called out his name but got no response. I shook his hand twice

but received no response. I leaped to my feet and placed my fingers on his neck. He suddenly leaped

up, as if he was experiencing a nightmare. I could only assume my hands were chilly.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked.

“I assumed you were dead,” I said.

He looked at me and then around and said “Oh, we’re here, why didn’t you wake me up?” He pushed

me away and got out of the car without looking back.

I suppose he expected me to follow him. I took my plastic bag and stick and exited the car, exhausted.

“Do you prefer to be alone? And who permitted you to install an electric fence on the beach?” I

enquired.

He remarked, “This is my dumb beach, it’s private property.”

He placed his face on some mirror thing, to my shock the gate had facial recognition to detect his face.

He had set his house up so that nobody was supposed to get into it.

He then entered a code which was followed by a shrieking sound.

“What was that?” I asked, scared.

He responded with a smile that he had just disarmed a bomb and ordered me to drive the car inside.

“Are you saying that if anyone had tresp*ssed, the bomb would have been detonated?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

I froze as I watched him enter the house; I knew I was dealing with a psychopath, but it was too late to

turn back. Before accompanying him into the home, I strolled to the car and drove it in.

He asked to follow him and stated, “We’ll talk about everything when we get some rest.”

I noticed that the interior was completely white and had a hospital-like odor. I could only assume the

house was his mini private hospital.

He entered a stunning luxury bedroom through a door he opened and threw himself on the bed, saying.

“I’ll take the left side, you take the right.”

I moved back a bit, p*ssed. “We are not sharing a bed! We’re not a couple!” I screamed at him,

speechless by the insult.

“Okay, then, take the sofa,” he replied.

“This is a massive property, what about the rest of the house?”

“The other rooms are on the other side, I’m sick,” he stated as he pulled himself into a seated position.

“What if I start choking on my clots and choke to death?”

I just stared at him, waiting for him to finish his theory.

You’ll have a hard time excusing yourself if I die, so go to sleep but keep an eye on me.” he ordered.

What happened to your nurses and doctors?”

He moved to lie on the bed and said. “I fired them, now quit asking dumb questions, I need my sleep.

As I glanced at the massive sofa in the corner, I was taken aback. I walked up to it and sat down,

cursing myself for following a psychopathic stranger who could die at any second..