Dumping The Ice King His Mini-Tyrant novel Chapter 395

Felicity’s lips trembled as she tried to speak, her voice barely steady.

“H...Harrison, why are you saying this?!”

Harrison had pinned all the blame on her, and Felicity understood what that meant—he was throwing her to the wolves. No wonder Victor wanted her dead.

A shudder ran through her, pain splintering across her chest as if her heart might break apart.

Victor jabbed a finger at her face, voice low and furious. “When I’m done breaking your legs, I’ll drag you over to the Vaughn family and make you beg for Harrison’s forgiveness!”

“Dad, no! Harrison’s lying—he twisted everything! That’s not what happened!” Panic flooded Felicity; she knew Victor would carry out his threat. This time, she was truly doomed.

Clayton spoke coldly, “You need to ask yourself why Harrison’s doing this. The truth doesn’t matter. If he’s dumping all the blame on you, it means you’re useless to him now. You’re nothing but a scapegoat.”

Felicity’s eyes brimmed with tears. Had Harrison really forgotten Natalie Vaughn’s last words? How could he turn on her like this?

“Dad, I’m innocent…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, thick with desperation.

Victor was unmoved. “I don’t care if you’re innocent or not. You’ve crossed the Vaughn family, and I have no choice but to bring you to them and beg for forgiveness!”

In Victor’s eyes, Felicity had lost all value. Sacrificing her might be the only way to salvage the Thompson family’s reputation.

Felicity’s tears glimmered, but her voice turned icy. “Dad, you can’t hurt me. I slept with Harrison—what if I’m carrying his child?”

Clayton fell silent, eyes fixed on Felicity.

Victor stopped in his tracks, his face cycling through shock, disbelief, and fury.

He stared at her. “What did you just say?!”

*

Charteris Academy, Lower School, Auditorium:

Backstage, Selene held little Daph’s hand, waiting with her for the show to start. Daph was dressed in a fuzzy, pastel-pink acrobat costume.

“Daph!”

Penelope pouted, showing off her shiny lips. Daph noticed the glossy color.

Penelope’s face was caked in stage makeup—blush, eyeliner, highlighter on her cheekbones, and her hair pulled up into a neat bun sprinkled with glitter. When Daph first saw her, she’d almost failed to recognize her friend.

On a five-year-old, the heavy makeup made Penelope’s face seem strangely grown-up, a jarring contrast to her petite, delicate frame. The effect was oddly unsettling.

“Penelope!”

Clarissa’s voice cut through the noise. Spotting Penelope talking with Daph, she frowned.

Penelope scampered over obediently, like a well-trained kitten.

Clarissa crouched down, inspecting Penelope’s makeup for smudges. Then she glanced up and noticed Daph’s thick, fuzzy costume, a smile curling on her lips.

“Daph, you’d better thank your dad for that costume~”

Clarissa’s words drew the attention of several nearby parents, all of whom turned to look at Daph.