The Art Of Revenge (Thalia Nash and Brandon)

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Thalia’s Pov

He cried the entire night, and the sad reality was that there were no words I could say to him in order to

alleviate his humiliation. I understood why he was crying; he was frustrated with life, and he was

nearing the end of his condition, which he had dreaded.

I couldn’t help but think it was my fault; I was the one who was putting him under pressure with my

secrets.

Brandon’s condition was always linked to his emotions, so I thought to myself as I started crying, “I

paralyzed him.” Maybe if I informed him about the machine, he’d be excited, but the machine wasn’t yet

tested on animals or humans.

With his stubbornness, he would have put pressure on me to use it on him before it was ready and I

would have killed him.

I was in a pickle, but instead of sobbing, I was supposed to be accelerating my progress so that if it

worked I would break the good news to him.

The machine had to be put to the test. But I was too exhausted to even lift a cup and I had to put the

baby into consideration; I needed to take a break, even if it was for an hour.

I leaped to my feet and checked on him before heading to my wardrobe and taking out my secret

phone, which was the main reason he failed to monitor what I was hiding from him. Nestor had

purchased the phone in secret and instructed me on how to conceal it. I was very sure Brandon had my

original phone wiretapped.

I quickly sent Nestor a message and hid it back. If he was going to reply, he was going to reply on that

line.

I updated him on Brandon’s condition and instructed him to hurry. Then I went back to my old phone

and set my alarm at four o’clock, making sure that my headphones were connected. I didn’t want to

wake Brandon up with my alarm.

I was in desperate need of sleep. It didn’t take long for the four and a half hours to pass before the

alarm went off. I was exhausted, but I needed to start the second phase of my project.

I wiped my drowsy eyes and checked on Brandon immediately to make sure he wasn’t awake. I quickly

showered before heading to the garage to begin testing with my mice. Monkeys would have been a

better choice but I had no time.

Everything seemed fine at first until I started attaching the machine to the small bodies. I began with a

low voltage that was capable of turning on the machine and compatible with a framework of mice.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and I began recording the progress. It was time to turn on the blood

circulation between the machine and mice bodies so that the cells would be filtered out.

I began raising the voltage, but the mice began to die even at voltages that were not human-

compatible; it had nothing to do with the voltage, but rather with the professor’s theory that the blood

output and the cells input were supposed to be in balance but wasn’t resulting in death due to a lack of

blood in the body.

The mice went into anemia, shock, and finally death. I tried with over ten mice but each time I began

the circulation, no matter how low the voltage, they all died.

I cried angrily, “I need it to work!” Brandon needed the machine, and I needed it to operate. I knew

there was something wrong with what I was doing, but I didn’t know what it was. I needed to go through

my notes again, but there was no time; Brandon had time, and going back meant three more months.

I sat defeated on the floor, certain that I had done everything correctly, but it was not to be. I failed, and

maybe that’s why I was so adamant about not informing Brandon, since I knew I was going to fail.

How could I, since no one had ever invented anything like what I was trying to do and the professor

was right, it was definitely humanly impossible.

I was hit with a brick wall with nowhere to turn, I sat there thinking and only the singing of birds brought

me to reality. Brandon was probably awake and thinking I had left him when I looked up and discovered

the sun was up.

I instantly pulled myself together and brushed away my tears, knowing that crying would never fix

anything. I dashed back inside the house and found Brandon peacefully sleeping.

I climbed onto the bed and encircled him. I decided not to go to work, I couldn’t leave him like that.

When he first opened his eyes, he needed to see me.

Nestor was correct; I was too preoccupied with trying to find a solution for him to remember to spend

time with him. Suddenly he shifted his hand to the side and slowly turned to the other side. “Brandon,” I

said as I felt him shift but I got no response.

“Brandon, you’re moving, oh my G*d,” I screamed with delight and hugged him even tighter. I could feel

the baby kick, she seemed to be enjoying herself.

I tried to clasp his hand with my tummy in order for him to feel the baby, but he swiftly withdrew his

palm away from my grasp. I pulsed for a minute and then cooled down for a minute before saying,

“Sorry,” but received no response.

I looked over to check and found his eyes wide open, but he refused to look at me. I tried to put my

arms around him, but he stopped me as if he didn’t want to be touched.

“I’m sorry,” I said again.

The room fell silent; perhaps telling him about the gadget would cheer him up, but on second thought, it

would just worsen his attitude. What good would it do for me to share my concept after I failed?

If he was still interested in finding out what I was hiding from him then I would tell him about my failed

project.

“Do you want something to eat?” I asked after clearing my throat and asking how he was doing but I

got no response. It was followed by complete stillness.

I had no idea what to do, but certainly, if he had cleaned me, I would be crying as well but he was a

man and needed to man up. Maybe I was being too friendly, so I slid off the bed, holding my belly, and

into a chair, taking a seat next to him.

“Brandon?”

He finally stated, “I want to eat scallops.”

“But, Brandon, we’re out of scallops.”

“Purchase them,” he ordered.

“I can’t and Nestor isn’t returning my calls; how will I get around?” I inquired.

“The keys to the car are in the kitchen drawer,” he said.

When I realized what he was attempting to accomplish, I grinned; he was trying to get me out of the

house, which was not going to happen. I had no intention of leaving him alone. “Brandon, I’m not going

anywhere,” I replied.

He said, “Then I’ll starve to death.”

I couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth, so I grabbed my phone and dialed Nestor’s

number, but got no reply. Then it hit me, Maggie. I quickly dialed her number and she answered on the

first ring. I instructed her to bring her stup*d son over and some scallops. I grinned as I hung up the

phone.

“I want scallops that you will buy, and I won’t eat anything that isn’t handpicked by you,” he ordered.

I laughed and rose from my seat. I didn’t want to get into a heated discussion with him. My phone

beeped in seconds, and it was Maggie, telling me that Nestor was in Spain and would not make it.

I exclaimed in frustration, The earliest was tomorrow evening. I gritted my teeth, Nestor was definitely

useless, off all the days that I needed him he chose to get a life. I thought he was joking when he

walked out on us.

But I wasn’t going down without a fight; he wanted scallops, and I was going to get them for him but I

wasn’t leaving the house. I made my way to the kitchen and started searching for stores.

As long as you threw money to them, anyone in this country was capable of doing anything. I dialed my

secretary’s number, who was familiar with the area, and she had everything I needed in minutes.

I grabbed my ice cream from the fridge and returned to my seat. He was still avoiding eye contact with

me by facing the sheets, but that was fine, soon or later he was going to face me.

“I’ll get you scallops,” I said.

“Why did you provide my address to a complete stranger?” he yelled.

“Yes, I gave a stranger your address, I will not abandon you Brandon, and you are mistaken if you NôvelDrama.Org holds this content.

believe that committing suicide will cure your problems. Kill yourself, and I’ll kill myself and be assured

that I’m not joking, we made a promise to each other, remember that!” I yelled at him.

“I do not require you to leave the room,” he said, chuckling.

I stood up and smacked him across the face with a strong slap. I was so outraged and enraged that I

resisted the urge to slap him again. He wasn’t expecting me to punch him, so he looked at me

surprised.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them. “I believe it is time for you to change your

diaper and have your morning bath,” I remarked as I walked to the bathroom and returned with a dish

of warm water and soap. I could see the red spots on his cheek from where I struck him, but he

deserved it, how dare him.

He tried to speak but I cut him off. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to him and went on to remove his

diaper and began cleaning him without making eye contact.

“You don’t get to commit suicide after trapping me, no Brandon,” I said between tears. “Didn’t you trick

me into consenting to have this child so that I wouldn’t attempt suicide, or so that I would not go back to

that bridge and jump if you died?” I inquired, but he was deafeningly silent.

Between sobbing, I chuckled; I had worked out what he had done months ago, and I had only accepted

because I wanted Josh at my feet at the time and was too foolish to comprehend what I was

consenting to.

“I’ve always questioned why a guy who liked me would sit back and watch the girl he liked being

inseminated with her enemy’s sperm.

You expected I’d become bored with the vengeance while you were gone, but not with the one thing my

enemy deprived me of,” I expressed my displeasure, but he simply averted my gaze.

“Well, Brandon Fraser, you owe me,” I sobbed as I carried everything to the bathroom. I cleaned

everything and decided to take a shower. I sobbed even more in the shower. “Too much for the dumb

revenge,” I thought to myself as I stood on the water.

After I was done I began drying my hair and walked back to the bedroom. I found he had shifted

positions, and he was now facing in the opposite direction. I changed quickly and began combing my

hair.

The delivery man arrived shortly after and I dashed outside. I was brought boxes of scallops just as I

had requested; I instructed the men to place the boxes in the yard, and I handpicked enough scallops

because he wanted me to hand-pick them. I thanked them and walked back into the house after paying

them double.

“Here are your scallops, I hand-picked them from the boxes the workers delivered; if you want proof,

you can view the surveillance,” I said, but he didn’t respond.

“I’ll get them ready,” I said and walked out of the room.