They slowly made their way to the grandmother's courtyard. The Grandfather kept a supportive hand near her, while Samuel—acting as her silent, sturdy anchor—carefully guided her steps.
The Grand Madam was already standing outside. The moment her eyes fell on Heena, her face crumpled with worry. She rushed forward, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"My poor baby! What on earth happened to you?"
She pulled back, her eyes landing squarely on the dark, swelling red handprint fracturing Heena's pale cheek. In an instant, a terrifying, furious rage ignited in the old woman's eyes.
"How dare they?! Who did this?!" she bellowed, whipping her head around to glare at her husband with absolute venom.
The Grandfather—the literal god of war who had just casually swatted his own son like a sack of potatoes—visibly shivered under his wife's murderous glare. He raised his hands defensively. "It wasn't me! I swear! He... he actually raised his hand against her!"
