Dumping The Ice King His Mini-Tyrant novel Chapter 308

Harrison’s stunned gaze drifted slowly to the bowl of soup resting on the floor.

If he wanted to eat it, he’d have to get down on his knees and lower himself to the ground—just like a dog.

The realization sent a surge of rage through him. His bloodshot eyes blazed with fury. “Selene! You did this on purpose! Do you really hate me that much?!”

He looked like a wild animal, trapped and desperate, thrashing against the cold bars of his invisible cage. The rattle of metal chains echoed off the walls, sharp and jarring.

But then, just as suddenly, he stilled. He saw Selene looking his way, a bright, unhurried smile blooming on her lips—a white flower opening quietly in the dark.

“You forced Victor to shove Felicity into Thompson Victory Technologies as my assistant. You wanted to disgust me? Why shouldn’t I return the favor?”

A cold, brittle laugh slipped from Harrison’s throat.

So this was Selene’s revenge.

But what right did she have?

“You killed Natalie.”

The words slipped from his lips like a curse, as if speaking them could bind him tighter to his own guilt.

Selene didn’t bother to argue. She couldn’t be bothered to entertain Harrison’s delusions.

She opened the door and found one of her bodyguards—the one Luke Holloway had assigned to protect her in the building—coming toward her at a brisk pace.

“Miss Thompson, Gemma spotted you entering this building. She’s brought a crew with her, and they’re on their way up.”

Selene paused. “She’s here to rescue Harrison?”

How had Gemma found out Harrison was being kept here? Had Leo failed to keep it from the Vaughn family?

The bodyguard explained, “The old lady’s probably here because Damien threw up after eating the soup Miss Dafina brought him this morning. She’s looking for someone to blame—and you’re her target.”

Now it made sense. That morning, Selene had seen Daph sneaking chicken soup into a thermos. She’d guessed Daph wanted to bring it for Damien.

The bodyguard continued, “Don’t worry, Miss Thompson. Damien was only sick because the old lady forced him to vomit after she heard about the soup. But she’s determined to pin it on you.”

Darkness closed in again.

The flicker of the television cast pale light over Harrison’s face. By morning, stubble shadowed his jaw; he looked haggard, broken.

He glanced at the bowl of soup Selene had left on the floor.

He could tell—it was homemade.

At least she hadn’t tried to poison him.

Now, he was reduced to surviving on the food he’d always despised.

Soup would give him water, carbs—just enough to keep going. If he wanted to survive, he’d have to eat it.

And it was still hot. He hadn’t eaten all night; his stomach was already fragile. If he didn’t eat it while it was warm, he’d be left with a cold, congealed mess in a few hours.

Harrison thought he’d put up more of a fight, that he’d hold out longer. But his stomach kept growling, desperate and hungry, refusing to let him pretend any longer.