Dumping The Ice King His Mini-Tyrant novel Chapter 297

His mortified, desperate expression was caught from every angle by the phone camera.

The switch lashed down.

The air popped and cracked with each blow.

Hitting someone—it really was addictive.

Especially when the person on the receiving end was her wretched ex-husband.

“I cooked you frozen dinners and cheap takeout, always treading carefully, afraid you’d find out. You looked down on me, and I couldn’t stand you.

You ignored me in our marriage; I pretended to obey but did as I pleased behind your back.

Harrison, you reap what you sow!

Does it hurt?”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Selene hurled the switch again and again, her voice cold and steady. “Bruises fade in a few days, but words—verbal abuse—those scars can last a lifetime.”

Cruelty, humiliation—those are the things that cut deepest. Tonight, she wanted Harrison to feel it for himself.

It felt to Harrison like someone was tossing firecrackers at his body, each jolt of pain detonating through him, sending his adrenaline into overdrive.

He threw his head back, jaw clenched, neck stretched taut.

For a split second, he flashed back to that rush of racing at Bellcrest Mountain.

A rush—was he actually enjoying this?!

The realization stunned him.

Some dark, hidden corner of his soul—something he’d never dared to examine—Selene had ripped it wide open.

He remembered, with a shudder, the dream he’d had after that race—vivid, shameful, impossible to admit out loud.

Seeing what he truly was, how filthy and wretched, he couldn’t stop himself from trembling.

The force of her heel pressed into him—a warning that danger was real and present.

“Let me go… now!”

“Selene! You—”

He roared in fury, veins bulging along his flushed neck.

Her name, spat out, was like a trigger—breaking whatever fragile restraint he had left. With self-control gone, his body was no longer his own.

Selene’s black stiletto landed back on the floor with a sharp click.

Harrison collapsed to the ground, head bowed, motionless.

The man, humiliated beyond belief, sweat beading on his forehead, barked, “You did it on purpose!”

That was even harder for Harrison to swallow. It hadn’t been some accident—Selene had wanted him to lose control.

Selene held up the video, showing it to Harrison.

He’d always thought he was immune to her humiliation.

But when he saw it for himself—his own face on the screen, contorted in pain and unmistakable pleasure—he was struck dumb, devastated.

He’d actually made that expression.

“Mr. Vaughn, I’ve just held you against your will. Are you going to have me arrested?”

She called him “Mr. Vaughn” with a mocking lilt, her face utterly unconcerned.

There was only one message in her eyes: a warning.

“If you want to drag me down with you, I’ll send this video to every screen outside Vaughn Enterprises, to every single employee’s computer. I’ll make sure the world sees this side of you—the side you keep hidden.”

Harrison’s whole body trembled. He looked up at Selene, his eyes full of anxiety, fear, and something else he himself couldn’t even name.

If a video like that got out, how could he ever show his face at Vaughn Enterprises again?

He’d be the laughingstock of every spoiled rich brat he’d ever looked down on—gossip fodder for years to come.