Dumping The Ice King His Mini-Tyrant novel Chapter 385

Selene made her way toward the lounge. Ever since she’d uncovered Harrison’s scheme, she’d tipped Adrian off, and together, they’d decided to turn the tables—luring both Harrison and Felicity straight into the trap.

She had been wondering how best to expose their plot. If she confronted them directly in front of everyone, Harrison would inevitably twist things, accusing her of orchestrating the whole affair. But now, with the evidence Adrian had just handed her, Selene could finally bring their secrets into the light—and do so without a shadow of doubt.

She asked someone to fetch the key and unlocked the door. Instantly, a dense fragrance, tinged with the metallic sting of blood, hit her nose.

She coughed, wincing at the nauseating sensation that rose in her throat.

Behind her, several heads popped up, eyes wide with curiosity, craning to see what lay inside.

Selene was about to step in when Adrian threw an arm out, blocking her path.

“Careful!” he warned, and took the lead, entering first while Selene stayed close behind.

Inside, they found Felicity sprawled on the floor, her face bruised and swollen, clearly unconscious.

With a look of disgust, Adrian turned his face away. Selene noticed Felicity’s disheveled state—her clothes barely covering her. Selene stooped, grabbed a discarded jacket from the floor, and gently draped it over Felicity.

A rough, ragged breathing sounded from a shadowy corner.

“Oh my God!” someone behind Selene gasped.

The small crowd of wealthy socialites who’d followed her watched as Harrison slumped against the wall, his hands still bound tightly behind his back. His shirt was half-open, several buttons torn off, red scratch marks streaked across his chest. Damp hair clung to his forehead, and his breath came in shallow, panicked bursts. His eyes, wide with terror, darted around the room.

Suddenly, he lifted his head and stared at Selene in the dark. Any thought of escape had clearly left him; he knew it was pointless now. Behind Selene, familiar faces peered over her shoulder, equally transfixed by the scene.

When they saw Harrison’s state, shocked exclamations filled the room.

She turned to one of her staff. “Call an ambulance.”

Harrison, nose flushed red, growled at Selene, “She nearly forced herself on me!”

Selene’s eyes were cold as she looked up at him. “Keep your distance. You’re filthy.”

The words stung. Harrison’s pupils shrank, and he rushed to explain, “Nothing happened between us, Selene! You have to believe me!”

Something subtle shifted in his tone—a vulnerability Selene hadn’t seen before. She paused, thrown off by the change.

Adrian narrowed his eyes, his sharp gaze flicking over Harrison. Harrison’s torn shirt only half-covered him, exposing the deep scratches across his chest, the defined collarbone, the hint of abs beneath the fabric. As Harrison drew closer, the shirt slipped further off his shoulder, revealing a muscular arm.

He looked, for all the world, like a respectable man violated—so much so that even those ready to condemn him now hesitated, their words dying on their lips.