You’ll Regret Stealing Him from Me — My Sister Who Took My Fiancé and Celebrated Was a Fool - Chapter 16

Water gushed from the fountain, spreading across the venue floor in an instant.

What began as a mere puddle at the center rippled outward like waves—merciless, unstoppable, flooding the space like an overflowing river. The expensive carpets soaked up the water, their colors darkening.

“Eek!”

“Oh no! My dress!”

“What in the world?!”

The shrieks of noblewomen rose one after another. They lifted the hems of their gowns, but it was too late. The water spread relentlessly, drenching their skirts.

Splashes hit the tables, ruining the carefully prepared dishes. The clatter of plates. The sharp shatter of porcelain. The rolling of glasses. The dull thud of food hitting the floor. The once-pristine white tablecloths were now soaked and soggy. Exotic spices dissolved in the water, releasing an unpleasant odor.

The musicians’ instruments were splashed, bringing the performance to a halt.

They scrambled to protect their instruments, but it was futile. Everything was waterlogged. The violinist let out a near-scream.

“You will compensate for this, won’t you?!”

The musicians’ voices trembled with rage, their faces flushed, tears welling in their eyes.

Cold water rushed over my feet, nearly knocking me off balance. The weight of my soaked dress dragged at me, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to my legs. My perfect outfit ruined. The once-pristine white silk was now muddied gray.

“Stop the water immediately! Hurry! What are you all doing?!”

I screamed at the staff, my voice cracking. But this was no time to care about composure. This disaster had to be contained before it got worse.

“My deepest apologies! The piping valve seems to have malfunctioned! The water pressure exceeded expectations, and the control system!”

The staff member answered frantically, his face pale, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

“Malfunctioned? Can’t you stop the water at all?! There must be something you can do!”

“I don’t know, we need to contact the installers.”

“Then call someone who can fix it! Now!”

Dozens of staff swarmed around the fountain, desperately trying to contain the chaos. Some pressed their hands against the pipes, others stuffed cloth to block the flow, while more attempted to mop up the spreading water. But it was useless. The water kept pouring out, showing no signs of stopping.

A sinister gurgle echoed endlessly.

The venue was rapidly turning into a shallow pond. Water covered the floor, in some places ankle-deep. Decorations were soaked, colors bleeding. The exotic golden fabrics, now waterlogged, hung heavily like worn-out rags.

I could feel the cold stares of the guests.

The staff’s gazes, too.

Cold. Accusatory.

Silent condemnation, as if saying, We told you so. Eyes that seemed to scold, You were warned.

I knew what they were thinking. But I refused to accept it. This wasn’t my fault. My instructions had been perfect. The blame lay with those who executed them poorly.

“Lord Roderick! What should we—?!”

I turned to him, pleading for help. As the heir to the ducal house, he had the power to do something.

But Lord Roderick just stood there, frozen in shock.

When I looked at him for support, his expression was utterly lost. He remained silent, stiff with helplessness. He wouldn’t couldn’t help.

Useless. Completely useless.

All we could do was wait for professionals to arrive. Time crawled. Had it been five minutes? Ten? Longer? It felt like an eternity. Every second was torture.

The remaining guests wore unmistakable displeasure on their faces. Clutching their soaked dresses, they huddled by the walls, whispering among themselves.

“This is unbelievable.”

“Who in their right mind would host a party with such shoddy preparations?”

“The ducal family’s reputation is in ruins.”

Finally, the repair crew arrived.

They worked frantically, diving into the pipes with tools. Metal clanged. Shouts flew back and forth “Over here!” “No, not there!” “Hurry!”

This was not the party I had envisioned. What was this?

Eventually, the water stopped. The fountain’s flow weakened, then ceased. A final drop fell silently.

For a moment, silence filled the venue.

The fountain was fixed. But—

The devastation remained.

The floor was still flooded. Shoes splashed with every step. Decorations were ruined. Fabrics sagged. Candlesticks had toppled. Food was scattered everywhere—on tables, on the floor, amidst broken dishes.

“My apologies, but I must take my leave for today.”

One guest spoke in a frigid voice, laced with anger and disappointment. Without even looking at me, the host—they strode briskly toward the exit, their back-radiating fury.

“I’m feeling unwell.”

A noblewoman offered an obvious lie, lifting her damp hem as she hurried out. She, too, avoided my gaze.

“I just remembered urgent business.”

Another nobleman rushed off, his wet shoes making a miserable squelch with every step.

One by one, the guests began leaving almost fleeing.

Ladies lifted their soaked skirts as they hastened toward the exit. Gentlemen scowled, not bothering to hide their disgust as they departed. No one looked back. No one stayed.

Especially not the influential figures I had invited. The ones whose support I needed most. They left early, casting cold, disdainful glances my way. In their eyes—disappointment, anger, contempt.

“Wait! The party isn’t! It’s not over yet!”

I tried to stop them, but no one paused. No one even heard me anymore. They left behind only icy stares. My voice echoed hollowly through the empty venue.

“I’m sorry, but I must go as well. It seems this is beyond my ability to assist. I’ll step aside to avoid being a hindrance.”

“W-Wait! Violet! You too?!”

Even Violet Hamilton, my closest follower apologized before excusing herself. Her retreating back was swift, like she couldn’t wait to escape.

One by one, my other so-called friends left as well.

“Sorry, I’m leaving too.”

“Next time.”

“Good luck.”

Empty words. They all fled, afraid of being associated with me. Afraid their own reputations would suffer.

I still had two outfit changes planned.

There was still time before the scheduled end.

But none of that mattered now.

Only the staff and Lord Roderick remained.

The staff worked in silence, mopping the wet floor, picking up fallen decorations, gathering broken dishes. Their postures spoke volumes. We told you so.

Lord Roderick stood motionless, his expression unreadable. Some mix of anger and disappointment. His lips trembled slightly. His fists clenched, as if holding something back.

“Lord Roderick…”

I called to him, but he didn’t respond. He just stared at the wreckage in silence.

“Why did it turn out like this?”

The words slipped out, my voice shaking. Tears threatened to spill.

Before I knew it, I was alone in the dressing room.

I didn’t remember how or when I got there. My legs had moved on their own. Escaping, avoiding reality.

I sat before the mirror.

The reflection showed an exhausted, broken version of myself.

My once-perfect makeup was ruined. Black eyeliner smudged by tears streaked down my cheeks. Dark shadows hung under my eyes. The pearl ornaments woven into my hair were coming loose, my once-elegant style now disheveled.

My pristine white silk dress was stained with water. The hem, soaked and heavy, hung limply, now the color of muddy water. A custom-made gown ruined.

This was supposed to be my day.

The day I outshone my sister. The day society acknowledged me as the true prodigy.

“Why did it turn out like this?”

My voice trembled. My lips quivered.

I fought back tears, but it was no use. My eyes burned.

It was supposed to be perfect.

My ideas were brilliant, innovative.

The fountain, the exotic cuisine, the trendy music. They were all supposed to be revolutionary.

And this was the result?

A flooded venue.

Guests walking out.

Cold stares.

Words of disappointment.

Looks of contempt.

—No.

Something inside me screamed.

This wasn’t my fault.

That’s right. It wasn’t my fault.

The staff failed to prepare properly.

They installed the fountain carelessly. They neglected to check.

The chefs didn’t serve the dishes correctly. They messed up the spices.

The musicians’ performance didn’t suit the guests’ tastes. Their skills were lacking.

My instructions were perfect.

The ones who failed were them.

Yes, yes!

I did nothing wrong. My ideas were brilliant. Innovative, groundbreaking. Things no one else dared to attempt. If they failed, it was their fault.