The Art Of Revenge (Thalia Nash and Brandon) novel Chapter 99

Josh’s Pov

Except for my ex-wife to be, Jessica, who had somehow discovered my new phone number, I had kept myself concealed from the world for days and no one even bothered to check up on me. That witch still wouldn’t sign the divorce papers, and she wanted to take me to hell with her. I didn’t have time to change my phone number, so I simply blocked her.

My attorney was finally able to secure a date for my divorce court. I was hopeful that I would be given the divorce; no judge in their right mind would allow our marriage to continue to be a charade.

I thought a lot about the horror of my wife carrying my baby sibling. Sometimes I even had nightmares about it.

The one saving grace was that my father was nowhere to be found. One of the reasons I stayed inside, pondering on my life choices and sinking in self-pity, was that he knew better than to display his ugly face. I would see a psychiatrist or something if I had the money, but things were not going as planned. I wanted to sell the family home, but it seemed hard to locate even though I was selling it at a giveaway price.

Thalia was not done with me yet, and she would not stop until I was dead and dry, was my first and only guess. I desperately needed the money from that house; it was my fresh start if my mother and I were ever to leave the s*upid city.

I’d had everything in order, and I’d even given Jessica an eviction notice, despite the fact that she hadn’t moved in yet. I let her be, just seeing her face made me want to commit murder. I let her be and left it to the new owners to deal with her but finding those new owners felt impossible.

I was on the verge of hanging on to the last thread of my sanity. Yes my father was right I was a weak fool but what can be expected from a man without balls. I couldn’t even afford testosterone therapy, I had begun gaining more weight and all I was thinking about was giving up. But the face of my mother always popped up every time those evil thoughts crossed my mind.

The days felt like punishment, there were days where I was tempted to go back to the b*othels but my wallet warned me not to and even if I wanted to I couldn’t. No one wanted to associate with me with shame hovering over my head. I had no idea how long I was going to hang on for my mother. There was only a little time in which a man could pretend.

I was always locked up on my couch or visiting my mom. But every weekend I was home, sleeping my hours off and blaming myself for the s*it. I was rock bottom and so miserable, a knock came at my door which was very unusual unless it was the apartment owner, I had only paid for half of my deposit and spent all the weeks avoiding her.

Or maybe it was Jessica, the woman might have found me, it was not that difficult for her to track my new number so I wouldn’t be surprised If she found me. But I did not want to be bothered so I ignored the knock.

There was silence for a second before the crazy maniac who was at the door began banging at it like a mad person. I held my head in annoyance hoping they would just leave but whoever it was kept banging and the noise grew louder. I was so p*ssed. Some people really had no decency or self-respect.

I matched to the door, opened it, and yelled at the useless man who only smiled and let himself in without my consent. Before I could protest, another man who looked familiar entered. I was very sure I had seen him somewhere but I could not remember. They were followed by two scary men. My first thought was that they were men from the casinos I used to frequent.

“Can I help you all with something?” I asked as I turned, trying to play it cool. The man that was banging on my door like a l*natic walked straight to my mini-fridge and grabbed my milkshake, drinking it all. I felt enraged, the milkshake was for my supper, I had nothing to eat, he was getting on my nerves. “Would you all get out of my f*cking house!”

“This is not your house, you rent it,” the l*natic replied and faced me. I stared at him and noted that his skin was a bit pale and he had some redness in some places. If I was not mistaken, he looked like he was sick or he looked like he had just been discharged from the hospital or something. He looked at his watch and ordered me to sit down.

“No, I’m not going to sit down! Get out of my house all of you before I call the police!” I yelled at them.

Without warning the two built men grabbed me and pushed on my worn-out chair. I tried to get up but they forced me back onto the chair. I had no idea who they were.

“If you keep refusing to sit down you will only force the men to hurt you,” the man announced.

“You do not have the right to force me to take seats,” I replied. I was not going to let them abuse me in my house without giving a fight. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“Pardon my manners, I’m Brandon Fraser,” the sick l*natic finally introduced himself. I froze halfway and stared at him. He took a seat on the opposite seat and gave me a smile, a very fake smile. I slowly sank in my chair.

He looked so different, at least the rumors of him being sick and dying were correct. But the real issue was that the man who had single-handedly destroyed my life was sitting in my living room and I just stared at him.

“Finally I got your attention,” he added.

I looked in the other man’s direction and finally recalled where I had first met him. He was the one that had escorted Thalia to the fundraising dinner. He waved and quickly looked away. I turned and concentrated on the main cause of my downfall.

“Am sorry about your father and wife, I never planned for them to f*ck. Like seriously that came as a shock to me,” he joked but I only kept staring wondering how he met Thalia.

“Are you in love with Thalia?” I asked. He raised his eyebrows confused at my question. I was also confused by my own question. Other people in my situation would be kicking the last life out of him for what he had done to me but there I was asking whether he was in love with my ex-wife.

“You see Nestor, I told you we would have a normal conversation,” he said to the other man who just nodded. “Calm on, prepare us some coffee, Josh, do you have coffee?” He asked.

“No, I’m a tea person,” I replied.

He shrugged and looked away, I noted his hands were shaking, especially his right hand and he kept tapping on his left leg.

“What disease do you have?” I asked. He had a full set of hair so I could only assume it was not cancer. I noticed his fake smile disappear as soon as I asked him about his illness.

“Yes I’m in love with Thalia and I would do anything for that beautiful soul you left on the streets to rot,” he spat out. The room became quiet, I had no idea how he expected me to reply to his statement. We kept staring at each other, maybe we were sizing each other up or something.

I cleared my throat and asked, “What do you want?”

“I felt it was time for the two of us to finally meet,” he replied.

“Did Thalia send you? Is this got to do with me not finding a buyer for my house?” I asked in a calm voice. I was trying so hard not to yell at him. I was not scared but I only thought if I got him angry he was not going to answer my questions.

“How much for the house?” he asked.