Dumping The Ice King His Mini-Tyrant novel Chapter 322

“Harrison’s running a fever.”

“Did you give him his meds?” Selene’s voice was as calm and detached as ever.

The bodyguard replied, “He refuses to take them. When we tried to force him, he bit one of my colleagues.”

He added, “He keeps demanding to see you.”

Other than that one time on the second day she’d brought him a meal, Selene hadn’t bothered to check on the man again.

She’d realized after that encounter that beating up Harrison brought her no satisfaction whatsoever.

She remembered watching Gwyneth trample all over Quentin James right in front of her—back then, she’d wondered if violence really did feel as good as it looked.

Victor was obsessed with it, after all. It must be an incredible rush.

But after trying it herself, Selene found it empty. Hurting and humiliating someone didn’t give her any pleasure or sense of fulfillment.

Even now, with Harrison reduced to a prisoner, she couldn’t be bothered to spare him a glance.

Frankly, she found the reek coming off him disgusting.

The bodyguard continued, “He hasn’t eaten in days, either. He keeps asking for that soup you brought him.”

You’d have better luck finding gold in the desert than a man as stubborn as him.

Selene cursed under her breath.

“His injuries—are they healed?” she asked.

“Yes, completely.”

“There’s no trace left at all?” Selene pressed.

“That’s right. Even with medical scans, it’s hard to find any marks left on him.”

For the past few days, Selene had ordered the guards to loosen Harrison’s handcuffs to help him recover faster.

At first, the guards had worried that if they gave him any slack, he’d try to escape, so they’d doubled patrols. But after days of watching, they realized Harrison hadn’t even attempted to break free.

They figured he was simply too weak from hunger to run.

Selene gave her order. “Knock him out, give him an injection, hook him up to an IV—and then let him go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the bodyguard answered respectfully.

*

Sweat dripped down Harrison’s forehead. His vision was blurry, everything behind a fog, but he kept his eyes wide open, fixed on the bodyguard on the phone with Selene.

He heard the bodyguard’s quiet “Yes, ma’am,” and, not waiting for the call to end, Harrison called out urgently:

“When is she coming to see me?”

The bodyguard ignored him.

Harrison’s voice was hoarse, desperate. “If she comes, I’ll take the medicine!”

The guard snorted coldly. Even now, reduced to nothing, CEO Vaughn still tried to negotiate.

“Miss Thompson isn’t coming.”

Harrison froze, blurting out, “Why not?”

Selene hadn’t visited him in days.

Why hadn’t she come? Was she too busy? Or had Leo or Luke Holloway forbidden her from seeing him?

Before he could puzzle it out, a guard approached.

“Sir, you’re awake?”

Harrison asked, “How did I get home?”

She replied, “You were drunk last night. Lacy brought you back.”

He blurted, “I didn’t drink last night.”

Nadine chuckled. “Did you black out? You were in rough shape. There’s some hangover soup in the kitchen—I’ll bring you a bowl.”

He frowned. “You saw Lacy bring me home with your own eyes?”

“Yes, sir. I watched her walk you into your room myself.”

She blinked at him, a little confused by his line of questioning.

It was rare for Harrison to drink himself into oblivion, but then again, in the past seven years, whenever he’d come home late, Selene had always been there to look after him. Only recently had the old lady assigned Nadine to the night shift.

“Have Lacy meet me in the study,” Harrison said.

He started down the hall, then paused. “What’s the date today?”

Nadine thought he really must have been drunk. “It’s the 23rd, sir.”

Harrison’s breath caught. He whispered, “I was gone for seven days.”

“Excuse me?” Nadine looked at him, puzzled.

“I haven’t been home for seven days,” he repeated, looking straight at her.

She nodded. “You must have been working hard, sir.”

He pressed on, “Aren’t you curious where I’ve been all this time?”