Dumping The Ice King His Mini-Tyrant novel Chapter 511

He reached out, running his fingers along the smooth shaft of the golf club. In his mind, the image of Selene smashing the signal receiver with an iron rod played on repeat.

Plastic shards flew everywhere, yet she didn’t even blink.

That look on her face—Harrison had never seen anything like it. And yet, something about it set his blood on fire.

He remembered the driverless semi crashing into the wall of the test track—sparks flying, flames roaring to life. The acrid stench of burning metal filled the air. Through the haze, he saw Selene walking toward him, her back to the inferno.

Her long, soft hair whipped in the heat, a few stray locks curling from the flames.

Her features were sharp, almost austere, and her dark eyes gleamed like those of a wild, untamable panther—fierce, proud, and impossible to look away from.

Once, when Harrison was young, he’d dreamed that his partner would be someone who could stand shoulder to shoulder with him—a woman who was both his rival and his most intimate lover.

But those dreams faded. He realized people like that didn’t really exist, at least not in his world. In the end, he married as his parents and their friends expected—a woman who would tend to the home and raise their children, a perfect hostess and mother.

Mrs. Vaughn was the ideal wife, the first teacher to their children—but never, not once, had she been the love of his life.

“Sir?”

Nadine’s voice broke the silence. She’d watched Harrison absently running his hand over the golf club, anxiety etched in every line of her posture. “Your club’s been polished and is ready for you. Is there anything else you need?”

She was terrified the club wouldn’t meet his standards.

Ever since Vaughn Manor lost its mistress, everyone on staff lived in constant fear. Before, no matter what happened in the house, Selene would handle it—she’d take the blame for any mistake, carry every burden alone.

Now, if anything went wrong, the staff bore the full brunt of Harrison and Dames’ anger.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify