"This looks worse than I expected," Anna muttered, squinting at the punching bag in front of her.
Roseline's printed face was barely recognizable anymore—creased, dented, and tilted at an unnatural angle from the sheer number of blows it had taken.
She sighed, a mix of sadness and disbelief crossing her features. "But I'm glad you didn't break your wrist," she added, finally exhaling in relief as she turned to her sister.
Kathrine, who was still wearing her workout gloves like a soldier ready for round two, sneered. "That's the bare minimum I could manage today." Then she casually pointed to the second punching bag standing proudly in the corner.
Hugo's face.
Pristine. Untouched. Waiting.
"I still have Dad's face to ruin," she announced.
Anna blinked.
For someone who had spent her entire life both respecting and quietly fearing Hugo, seeing Kathrine declare that so easily felt… surreal.
