You’ll Regret Stealing Him from Me — My Sister Who Took My Fiancé and Celebrated Was a Fool - Chapter 15

The day had finally arrived.

My first hosted party, a momentous occasion. A stage to demonstrate my capabilities to high society under the banner of the Vandering Ducal House. After long preparations, the glorious day was here at last.

I surveyed the grand hall serving as the venue. Everything was perfectly prepared.

The large fountain at the center sparkled under the morning light, its water gracefully arcing like glittering jewels. The droplets refracted the light, casting rainbow hues. This was the centerpiece of today’s party; an unprecedented, innovative spectacle. A revolutionary idea that would breathe fresh air into high society.

I found myself entranced by its beauty.

Exotic decorations lined the walls, creating a vibrant atmosphere. Golden drapes cascaded from the ceiling, colorful flowers filled large vases, and ornate candelabras adorned the walls. The red-and-gold motifs evoked the Eastern kingdoms, while the vivid blue-and-white contrasts recalled southern islands. Just as I had envisioned.

Those staff members had complained endlessly during preparations, but they’d pulled it off in the end. Had they just obeyed from the start; we wouldn’t have wasted so much time.

Compared to my sister’s parties, mine was clearly superior. Such bold staging would have been impossible for her—conservative, dull, and fearful of change. Bound by tradition, she lacked the courage to innovate. But I was different. I would usher in a new era. I alone would rewrite high society’s conventions.

“With this, high society’s acclaim will be mine.”

A confident smile naturally rose to my lips.

My attire was flawless. A custom-made pure white silk dress commissioned from the kingdom’s finest tailor, a one-of-a-kind masterpiece. The blue of the fountain would complement my beauty, the color scheme meticulously calculated. The bodice bore jewels gifted by the ducal house, while pearls adorned my hair in a painstakingly perfected style.

Standing before the dressing room’s full-length mirror, I examined myself once more. Perfect makeup—porcelain skin with rosy cheeks, glossy lips, luminous eyes. Flawless from every angle, under any lighting.

“Lady Isabella, Lord Roderick has arrived.”

A knock at the door accompanied the announcement.

“I’ll be right there.”

One final mirror check. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Radiant beyond compare.

I hurried out to find Lord Roderick smiling at my appearance, unmistakable admiration in his eyes.

“You look breathtaking, Isabella.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks at his words. Joy pure joy. My betrothed recognized me. Valued me. Loved me.

“Thank you, Lord Roderick. I’ll make today an absolute success.”

I declared with confidence, standing tall. This assurance wasn’t baseless, I had talent. Today I’d prove the acclaim I’d reclaimed from my sister. No, rightfully regained.

“I look forward to it.”

His gentle smile bolstered my confidence further. He expected great things. Failure wasn’t an option. No, impossible from the start. My plans were flawless.

“Shall we? Guests will be arriving shortly.”

Taking his arm, I headed to the venue. The feel of his skin beneath my hand, the arm of the ducal heir. Now mine.

At the entrance, we greeted arriving nobles one by one. As hostess, first impressions were paramount.

“Welcome.”

Graceful smiles accompanied each greeting. Poise and charm, the perfect hostess.

“Lady Isabella, you’re stunning.”

My entourage arrived, led by chief sycophant Violet Hamilton, admiration laced with unmistakable envy in her eyes. My beauty, my status—she coveted them. As she should. My superiority over her was the natural order.

“Thank you. You look lovely too.”

The polite reply masked my inner triumph. Her dress wasn’t bad, but couldn’t compare to my radiant white silk.

“My, what is this…?”

Guests’ eyes turned to the central fountain, the atmosphere shifting palpably. Murmurs spread as everyone paused to stare.

“An indoor fountain—how unusual,” whispered a noblewoman behind her fan, voice tinged with surprise.

“Such innovative staging.”

The whispers about the fountain multiplied. Just as planned, all attention on my creation. The center of conversation. This was what I craved. The thrill of admiration, the joy of recognition.

Heh. Exactly.

An inner smile bloomed. This reaction was anticipated. Achieving what none had dared, proof of my genius.

“Hm?”

Scanning the room, I noticed some older nobles making odd expressions at the fountain. A silver-haired marquess seemed to frown momentarily before schooling his features. Surely just surprise, nothing more.

“Lady Isabella, this staging is magnificent!”

Violet’s exaggerated enthusiasm rang artificially bright.

“Indeed? A revolutionary concept my sister could never have imagined,” I replied loudly for all to hear. Today would cement my reputation ‘Isabella of House Vandering, the innovative visionary.’

The venue held a respectable gathering. Younger nobles clustered around the fountain in fascination, while elders conversed slightly apart. This space was my brainchild, my masterpiece.

As the party progressed, a flustered staff member approached me sweating.

“My lady, terrible apologies. The food service is delayed.”

“Excuse me?”

I frowned. Ruining the perfect atmosphere with problems already? Who was responsible for this disruption?

“The foreign cuisine preparation is taking longer than expected. The chefs struggle with unfamiliar techniques, and some ingredient substitutions required flavor adjustments.”

“Enough excuses! Hurry! Don’t keep guests waiting!”

My sharp tone made the staffer bow deeply before scurrying away.

Useless, all of them. My sister never had such issues. No, she likely handled them discreetly. My oversight made every flaw visible.

When food finally arrived, the exotic spices created a vibrant palette—reds, yellows, greens, oranges—with complex Eastern aromas. Visually stunning, guaranteed to impress.

“This… what cuisine is this?” An elderly noblewoman took one bite and froze.

“The spices are quite intense,” another noble whispered, suppressing a cough.

“Perhaps not to my taste.”

Some discreetly left food uneaten after one bite, dabbing lips and drinking water.

…What?

Such vibrant, exotic dishes. Novel. Eye-catching. Conversation-worthy.

Yet the younger nobles—yes, they ate enthusiastically. “What an unusual flavor!” “How fascinating!” See? It was well-received. The elders simply resisted novelty. Too conservative.

“Lady Isabella!”

Another panicked staffer approached, pale-faced. What fresh disaster now?

“What?”

Irritation seeped into my voice. Problem after problem, were they trying to undermine me?

“G-guests are complaining. The food’s too spicy, ingredients seem stale, preparation inadequate.”

“Have the cooks apologize! Handle it before bothering me!”

I hissed the command.

Why so many issues? My instructions were perfect; simply “serve foreign cuisine.” Was execution so difficult? Incompetent staff—unprepared, inexperienced, lazy.

But troubles kept coming, as if cursed.

The next staffer arrived ghostly pale.

“My lady, part of the decorations collapsed, injuring a guest.”

“WHAT?”

My outburst drew stares. I clenched my jaw. Injuries? At my event? Potential lawsuits—no, certain repercussions. The ducal reputation at stake.

“How? Weren’t the installations checked?”

“Deepest apologies. The weight exceeded estimates; our inspections proved insufficient.”

I rushed to the injured guest, heart pounding. Damage control quickly, smoothly.

Fortunately, just a minor forehead scrape bleeding slightly as staff tended to it. But still—

“My profound apologies.”

I bowed gracefully, projecting sincerity.

Yet the guests’ cold stares bore unmistakable accusation. Whispered criticisms swirled behind fans:

“Poor preparation.” “Reckless safety measures.” “Lack of experience, perhaps.”

Not my fault! I only gave orders, staff executed them poorly. Why blame me? My planning was perfect, their incompetence the issue.

Biting back frustration, I maintained apologetic composure, though my cheeks twitched.

Even my entourage looked uneasy. Violet averted her eyes; others distanced themselves. The admiration from earlier had vanished. Utter disaster.

When the musicians finally began, their lively melodies had younger nobles swaying along. Maybe this would salvage the mood!

“This seems rather vulgar, no?”

The critical voice made me stiffen. An influential matron wore undisguised distaste. Dangerous.

“Quite inappropriate for such an event,” another prominent lady agreed.

“Tavern music, really.”

What? Taverns? This was the latest fashionable composition!

Hiding my panic, I forced a smile, facial muscles straining. Just old-fashioned tastes, the youth enjoyed it. Times were changing, outdated opinions meant nothing.

Just as I reassured myself.

GLOOP GLOOP GLOOP—

An ominous sound erupted from the fountain.

“What’s that—EH!?”

The central fountain’s water volume had doubled violently, jets now spraying uncontrollably toward the ceiling.

“Why…!?”

Pipes spewed water abnormally, drenching surroundings.

“KYAAAAAH!”

Screams filled the hall as terror spread.