Chapter 2

"What's so funny?"

Seraphina whined delicately, about to press me for an answer.

That's when our father, Richard Thorne, descended the grand staircase, immaculate in his suit.

"Father."

Richard Thorne's brows immediately furrowed when he saw me.

"Crude behavior is one thing, but you don't even have a pretty face..."

He sized me up, his disapproval undisguised.

"Announcing your identity now would only bring shame upon our family name."

I met his gaze, my mind a blank slate.

Honestly, his manufactured gravitas was less than a tenth of what my drill sergeant commanded back in basic training.

Ignoring the lengthy lecture he was clearly preparing to deliver, I looked him straight in the eye.

My voice was crisp and clear.

"Understood. Eight AM tomorrow. I'll be there on time for training."

My absolute obedience clearly caught them off guard.

Richard Thorne's prepared tirade of admonishments instantly choked in his throat, neither coming out nor going back down.

Seraphina's triumphant smile on her perfectly sculpted face also froze.

She pouted, letting out a dismissive huff.

"Such an act!"

At the dinner table, the atmosphere grew even stranger.

The long table was laden with an extravagant spread, yet Seraphina's plate held only a few sad-looking pieces of salad.

She chewed daintily, her posture impeccable.

"Most accomplished young women know how to maintain their figure these days, sister," she subtly jabbed, her voice dripping with passive aggression.

I paid her no mind, accurately calculating calories as per my military habit.

I piled my plate with ample portions of steak, seafood, and rice.

Muscle was critical for survival on the battlefield.

Without enough protein and carbs, the body was nothing more than an engine running on fumes.

"Oh my goodness!" Seraphina gasped dramatically. "Sister, you're eating that much? No wonder..."

She trailed off, but her pointed gaze said it all.

Father's frown deepened. He set down his fork and knife with a displeased clatter.

"No decorum whatsoever for a young lady! What an outrage!"

I didn't respond, continuing to eat.

Inwardly, though, I decided I'd start cooking my own meals tomorrow.

While the food here was exquisite, it was far too oily and salty for my standards.

I needed fuel, not baggage.

Less than five minutes later, I finished the last bite on my plate, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

"I'm done."

I rose from the table, preparing to leave the dining room.

Richard Thorne's cold voice stopped me. "Hold it right there."

I paused, turning back to him.

"Tomorrow's training will be monitored by the butler. If you dare to slack off or try any tricks..."

I calmly cut him off. "Don't worry. I've never resorted to such deceitful tactics."

With that, I turned and walked away, ignoring the stunned expressions on both their faces.

The next day, I arrived punctually at the opulent private club.

The polished marble floors reflected my image, and the crystal chandeliers sparkled with brilliant light.

Looking around, I was reminded of crawling through mud and forced marches under the scorching desert sun, burdened with heavy gear.

To me, this place was practically a five-star spa.

Inside the club, Seraphina had already been waiting for a long time.

She wore a meticulously tailored Pilates outfit that perfectly accentuated her slender figure.

"Sister, you're finally here. The coach has been waiting for ages; he's notoriously strict."

I nodded. "Good."

The stricter, the better.

After all, a lenient general never forges a fierce army.

The coach soon made his entrance.

A towering, muscular man, over six feet tall, with a bronze complexion scarred and tattooed.

He introduced himself as a retired Marine.

Then, he swept his gaze over me, a hint of disdain in his eyes, before announcing today's training regimen.

Thirty kilograms weighted run, at a speed above 15.

Five hundred standard push-ups, to be completed within a time limit.

One hour of freestyle combat.

With each item he announced, Seraphina's eyes lit up a little more.

The combined intensity of these exercises was enough to make even a regularly fit adult man pass out on the spot.

She was clearly eager to see me collapse to the ground, crying and wailing in utter disarray.

She leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially, a smirk on her face.

"Sister, there are cameras everywhere, you know. Father will be watching your performance."

I raised an eyebrow, a subtle smile playing on my lips.

I turned to the muscular coach, extending my hand. "Thank you for your hard work."

"I appreciate having such professional facilities and supervision."