You’ll Regret Stealing Him from Me — My Sister Who Took My Fiancé and Celebrated Was a Fool - Chapter 31

The third party hosted by Isabella.

I stood in the venue, watching over her. The previous two parties she had thrown had been disastrous. So this time, I stood there with lingering unease in my heart.

But this time was different.

Clearly different from before.

Everything was proceeding smoothly. The staff moved proactively. Without needing detailed instructions, everyone understood their roles and acted accordingly. There were no mishaps, everything flowed seamlessly.

“Finally, it’s stabilized.”

Relief spread through my chest. The tension in my shoulders eased slightly.

The first party had been a disaster. The fountain malfunctioned, flooding the venue. The attendees had been furious. The compensation had been enormous. My father had scolded me harshly, even declaring me unfit as the family head. The humiliation from that day still haunted me.

The second time, minor troubles had persisted. Isabella had been giving orders nonstop, with none of the grace expected of a host. Still, there had been no major failures, and the lack of criticism had been a relief. I had thought that if she kept improving, she might eventually throw a perfect party.

And now, this time.

This time, it was better. Undeniably better than before.

The reception was smooth. Attendees were checked in without delay. The carriage coordination was flawless, with no traffic jams. The food service was precise, with every dish perfectly prepared—hot dishes served hot, cold dishes chilled. The musicians played at just the right moments, enhancing the atmosphere without disrupting conversations.

The guests chatted with relaxed expressions. No one looked displeased.

This should be fine.

Father wouldn’t have any complaints. Our reputation in high society would gradually recover.

Finally, I could breathe. The long-held tension seemed to lift.

But—

As I surveyed the venue, a thought struck me.

This approach, it felt familiar. Another scene flashed through my mind.

Seraphina’s parties.

Back then, it had been like this too.

The staff had moved perfectly. Everyone knew their roles, acting without needing orders. The guests had naturally enjoyed themselves. Smiles had been abundant, conversations lively. Everything had flowed effortlessly. Perfectly executed.

Back then, I hadn’t needed to worry about anything. All I had to do was be present, enjoy conversations, and bask in the calm. That alone had made the party a success.

It was similar.

Isabella’s party now and Seraphina’s parties then.

A strange sense of déjà vu passed through me. Had I seen this before? Felt this atmosphere before?

“…Is it because they’re sisters?”

I muttered under my breath, too quiet for anyone to hear.

Yes. That must be it.

They were sisters, so their methods were similar. It was only natural. Raised in the same household, educated the same way. It wasn’t strange for their party management styles to resemble each other.

I tried to convince myself with that explanation. To stop myself from thinking deeper. To suppress the creeping realization.

After the party ended without incident, the evaluations came in.

Fortunately, there was no criticism this time either.

No mishaps.

“It proceeded without issue.”
“It was a safe party.”
“Sufficient.”

That was enough.

For me, it was satisfactory. As long as there was no criticism, that was sufficient for now.

Father didn’t say anything either. No scolding like the first time. No icy stares. The Vandering family’s dignity remained intact. Our standing in high society would surely recover.

But—

Then it occurred to me.

Seraphina’s evaluations had been different.

“Magnificent.”
“Perfect.”
“Brilliant.”

Such praise had been expected. The guests had genuinely enjoyed themselves. It had been the talk of high society. “The Vandering parties are spectacular,” everyone had said in unison.

Compared to that, Isabella’s evaluations now were merely “safe” and “sufficient.”

But their methods were similar. The execution was similar. Why such a difference in reception?

Questions swirled in my mind.

The more they resembled each other, the more I compared them.

Did Isabella truly have talent for hosting parties?

The doubt whispered from the depths of my heart. Quietly, but unmistakably.

No, that’s not it!

I shook my head frantically. What was I doing, doubting Isabella? She was the fiancée I had chosen. The one I had believed in enough to break off my engagement with Seraphina for.

She had bold, unconventional ideas no one else could think of. A spirit of challenge. Installing a fountain in the venue, who else would even consider that? Let alone attempt it? That was proof of her originality.

Yes.

The first time had been a failure. But she had recovered. The second time, only minor issues had arisen. And now, she had managed a safe success.

It was proof of growth. Step by step, she was gaining experience. Learning from mistakes. That was how it should be.

But the quality…

It still reminded me of her. I couldn’t help but think it.

Was it because they were sisters? Or was there some other factor?

Was I mistaken? If I followed this line of thought.

Did that mean Seraphina had been the one copying?

Had Seraphina been mimicking Isabella’s ideas all along? That was why they felt similar. That was why I had broken off the engagement—because Seraphina had tried to steal Isabella’s ideas and claim them as her own.

But wait.

If that were the case, why were their evaluations reversed? If Seraphina had been the copycat, shouldn’t Isabella have been the one receiving higher praise? The original should be more highly regarded.

Yet reality was the opposite.

The logic didn’t connect. Something was off. A contradiction lurked somewhere.

As I reached that point, my heart lurched. I was on the verge of realizing something. Something I shouldn’t see. A truth I didn’t want to know loomed before me.

I was missing something crucial.

But I didn’t want to admit it.

No, that’s not it.

I hastily rejected the thought. I stopped myself from thinking further. If I did, I might realize something irreversible.

That couldn’t be.

There had been witnesses back then.

People who testified that Isabella had come up with all the ideas. That Seraphina had stolen them from her younger sister. That was the truth. There was no room for doubt.

My judgment had been correct. I had believed in Isabella and broken off my engagement with Seraphina. I had publicly condemned Seraphina. That had been the right decision.

It had to have been right.

Yes.

I wasn’t wrong.

I had made the right choice.

I repeated it in my mind, as if convincing myself.

It was in the midst of this turmoil that I heard a certain rumor spreading through high society.

The parties hosted by the Liebenfeld family were becoming the talk of the town.

The Liebenfeld family?

It rang a faint bell.

I tried to recall where I’d heard the name. Someone had mentioned it recently.

Ah.

That was the family of Seraphina’s new fiancé.

Isabella had mentioned them. A military noble family. “Barbaric,” she had called them.

“A military noble’s party is making waves?”

I couldn’t hide my surprise. Military nobles’ parties were usually beneath high society’s notice—plain, modest, lacking in splendor. That was the only impression I’d had.

Yet the rumors had reached even me. And apparently, Seraphina was involved. I couldn’t believe it.

A groundbreaking party.

Innovative experiments.

The talk of high society.

Hearing this, a thought struck me.

I wished Isabella could have achieved this for our family.

A party like this, hosted by the Vandering family. It would have elevated our reputation. Strengthened our standing in high society.

But perhaps Isabella couldn’t have pulled it off.

The thought pierced my heart like a sharp blade. As the pain spread, I sank deeper into contemplation.

Had I made the wrong choice?

Had breaking off the engagement been the right decision?

Had choosing Isabella been correct?

Had letting go of Seraphina been—

Something was fundamentally wrong.

That conviction only grew stronger. No matter how much I tried to deny it, I couldn’t. Something inside me kept screaming.

I didn’t yet know what was wrong.

But something was.

I felt like I had made an irreversible mistake.

Was it truly right to keep believing in Isabella?

The doubt swelled in my heart, unstoppable. No matter how I tried to suppress it, it only grew with each passing day.

Had I overlooked something back then?

Had I been deceived by Isabella’s tears?

Blinded by her charm?

Had I missed something crucial?

Had I truly been right?

Had my judgment been correct?

Had condemning Seraphina been justified?

Had breaking off the engagement been the right call?

Had believing in Isabella been the right choice?

Everything led back to doubt.