Dumping The Ice King His Mini-Tyrant novel Chapter 63

“Let’s give it up for this man! Free at last–congrats on the divorce and welcome back to the single life!”

Felicity led the rest of the crew, waving a giant banner that read “Happy Divorce, Harrison!” She’d even hired people to blast party horns and shower confetti all over the place.

“Mommy, what’s Aunt Felicity doing?” Daph asked, completely bewildered.

“She’s dragging your Mr. Vaughn into public humiliation,” Selene replied, squeezing Daph’s hand as they took the long way around the commotion.

From across the room, Felicity caught sight of Selene slipping away with her daughter and let out a smug little laugh.

Harrison braced himself and strode over to Felicity. “What the hell are you doing?”

Felicity grinned, slinging

man! Time to celebrate an arm around his shoulder. “We’re throwing you a party,

your freedom!”

Harrison recoiled, his expression twisted in disgust. “Keep it down, will you? This isn’t exactly something to brag about.”

She just rolled her eyes. Harrison divorcing Selene was the best news she’d heard all year. “Come on, don’t be such a downer! Your old man already booked the best spot in town. This is your night–let’s live it up!”

That evening:

In the private lounge at the club, Felicity raised her glass high. “Here’s to Harrison–single again at last! May he be forever unburdened by domestic chains, blessed with endless women and bottomless drinks! Cheers to freedom!”

Everyone joined in, shouting, “Harry, happy divorce!”

Felicity started shimmying her shoulders, making ape noises and cracking

everyone up.

Harrison sat slouched on the sofa, a shadow clinging to him no matter how much he tried to shake it off. He picked up his glass, drinking in silence, his face unreadable.

Why did his chest feel so tight?

Seven years of marriage, and he’d never loved Selene. She’d taken the divorce papers and walked out–he should’ve felt relief, even triumph.

Instead, the whiskey burned all the way down, igniting something sharp and painful

inside him.

Felicity plopped down beside him, clutching a bottle of scotch. “To celebrate your glorious return to singlehood, yours truly has ordered a few lovely ladies, just for you! Trust my taste, Harry–each one’s better than the last!”

The others hooted and hollered. “C’mon, Flick, hook us up too!”

Felicity shot back, “Call me Daddy and I’ll get you girls too!”

The room erupted in laughter and playful shouting, everyone jostling and tossing half–joking insults at Felicity.

Just then, the lounge door swung open and a group of women in heavy makeup and tight dresses strutted in.

Felicity’s eyes gleamed. “Look, Harrison! See anyone you like? Pick one and I’ll let her stay and take care of you tonight.”

She nudged him, pointing out a woman with ample curves. “Check her out–she’s got a chest like two soccer balls stuffed under her shirt!”

Then she barked at another, “Turn around, let Daddy get a look–damn, that’s an impressive ass!”

Felicity kept up her rowdy banter, half for show, though she knew full well Harrison had zero interest in these surgically enhanced party girls. Their clothes were too revealing, their fake lashes looked like something out of a cartoon, and their makeup was thick enough to patch up a brick wall.

Next to them, Felicity looked downright ordinary–baggy bomber jacket, ripped jeans, messy chestnut hair loose down her back, the barest hint of makeup. Most guys assumed she wasn’t wearing any at all.

She poured Harrison another glass of scotch, topping it off with a flourish.

As Harrison lifted his drink, his gaze landed on a girl standing quietly in the corner. He froze, eyes narrowing in surprise.

Felicity followed his line of sight–and her smile vanished.

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