The voice was not loud, but it carried the crushing weight of a collapsing mountain. The Marquis finally stepped forward, his cold, indifferent eyes locking onto Heena. He didn't look angry. He just looked profoundly disappointed, like a god looking down at a defective creation.
"Put the sword down," the Marquis ordered. His tone left absolutely no room for negotiation. "You are making a disgrace of yourself and this family."
For a split second, Heena felt a sudden, violent phantom pain in her chest. It was the original Seera's lingering trauma—a deep-seated, terrifying instinct to drop to her knees and beg for her father's approval.
But Heena just ruthlessly crushed that feeling under her heel.
She stood up completely straight, lifting the heavy broadsword with ease, and met her father's icy glare with a look of pure, burning defiance.
"A disgrace, huh?"
