You’ll Regret Stealing Him from Me — My Sister Who Took My Fiancé and Celebrated Was a Fool - Chapter 47

At last, it’s quiet.

Isabella has left the estate. We divorced shortly after marrying, and she was sent back to her family. Since then, my life has become astonishingly peaceful.

That woman’s shrill voice, her hysterical sobbing, her endless accusations. All of it is gone.

What a relief.

Truly, I can breathe again.

From now on, I won’t have to see her face. No more daily shouting matches “This is your fault!” “You’re the one who ruined me!” No more glaring at each other across the dining table.

Finally, I’m free.

It’s wonderful. Quiet, undisturbed. I can take my time.

But as days pass, I find myself lost in thought more often.

The servants interact with me only when absolutely necessary. They bring meals and leave immediately. No one stays to talk. They avoid me, refusing to meet my eyes. Once their tasks are done, they hurry away.

I look out the window. Gray skies. A modest estate. A barren view.

It feels like I’ve been cut off from the world. A creeping sense of loneliness presses in.

It was quiet.

From relief to solitude.

I am alone.

More and more, my thoughts drift to Seraphina, my former fiancée. For some reason, her face surfaces in my mind. Her calm expression. Her intelligent eyes. Her graceful demeanor.

I remember the day I broke off our engagement. It happened in front of everyone at a party.

Seraphina remained composed. Unshaken.

She was right. I never should have ended things like that. I should have prioritized discretion. I should have listened to her advice.

But instead, I believed Isabella’s tears. I fell for that woman’s act. I swallowed every lie. I ignored Seraphina’s wisdom and called off the engagement. That was my greatest mistake.

I was a fool.

One day, as I walked down the hallway, I overheard the servants talking. They hadn’t noticed me.

“Have you heard about the Liebenfeld family’s parties? They’re legendary.”

“Lady Seraphina is the talk of high society now.”

“They say she’s revolutionized the social scene.”

“Rumors say an era of cooperation between bureaucrats and military officers is coming.”

I stop in my tracks. My chest tightens at their words. Even in this remote countryside, Seraphina’s success is known. A monumental triumph. She’s reshaping the times.

I could have been standing beside her.

If only I hadn’t broken the engagement. The dazzling parties. The admiration of high society. The glory of success. I could have shared it all with her.

I imagine myself at her side. A future that could have been.

“…Damn it.”

Clenching my fists, I hurry away.

If only I could go back.

Again and again, I think about it.

If I could return to that day, I would never call off the engagement.

Even if I saw Isabella’s tears, I wouldn’t believe her. I wouldn’t trust a word she said. I would keep faith in Seraphina. I would listen to her counsel.

Then, surely, Isabella’s lies would have been exposed. My engagement to Seraphina would have continued. Right now, I’d still be at the center of high society.

But time doesn’t reverse. No matter how much I wish for it, I can’t return to that day.

Why did I do it?

Why was I so reckless?

No matter how much I regret it, nothing changes.

Another day. More servants’ chatter.

“Lady Seraphina’s next party is already planned.”

“People are clamoring for invitations.”

“She’s become indispensable in high society.”

“Even Marquis Liebenfeld is said to be delighted.”

“They say the Marquis is terrifying on the battlefield but gentle with his wife.”

“How enviable.”

I’m not there.

Not at Seraphina’s side. Not sharing in her success. Not in the heart of high society.

Instead, there’s Marquis Liebenfeld—Maximilian Liebenfeld. A military noble. A man who made his name in war. The man who protects and supports Seraphina now.

Why?

It infuriates me. That should have been me. I should have been the one standing beside her. I should have been her husband.

Why did I do it? Over and over, I relive that regret.

It’s irreversible.

The remorse crashes over me. Unbearable, irreversible regret. Like waves, it swallows me whole.

Seraphina is no longer mine.

I—

I have nothing. I lost my right to inherit. I lost my fiancée. I lost my place in high society. I lost my father’s trust.

Everything gone.

At night, I can’t sleep. My mind races. Lying in bed, I stare at the ceiling. In the darkness, memories resurface one after another.

The regret never stops.

Again and again, I think about that day. That choice. That mistake.

“Seraphina…”

Her name slips out.

But she’s beyond my reach now. Far away, in a place I can never touch. Living a happy marriage. Enjoying success. At the center of it all.

It’s all Isabella’s fault.

That woman deceived me. She lied. She manipulated me with her tears. Playing the pitiable sister, she warped my judgment.

I’m the victim.

A deceived victim. Because of Isabella, I lost everything. If not for her, none of this would have happened.

That’s right. It’s not my fault.

“…Seraphina.”

I whisper her name again. Her face appears in my mind. Regret surges. My chest tightens.

The regret won’t fade. No matter how much I blame Isabella, Seraphina won’t return. What’s lost is lost forever.

It’s all over.

Everything.

Perhaps because I dwell on these thoughts, my health has taken a strange turn lately.

What is this fatigue? Mornings are a struggle. My appetite is gone. My body feels heavy, sluggish.

It’s as if my strength is draining away. Like my will to live is fading bit by bit.

Maybe it’s a curse Isabella left behind. Even after leaving, she’s still causing me trouble. Choosing her was my greatest mistake. The regret burns anew.

Each day, I grow worse.

I call for a doctor.

“I can’t find anything wrong.”

He tilts his head and leaves. A country doctor like this can’t be trusted. No diagnosis means no treatment. No medicine. Just “wait and see.”

My condition deteriorates rapidly. My body is heavy. My mind is foggy. My vision blurs.

What is this?

My consciousness wavers.

After that, Roderick Vandering’s health continued to decline.

Doctors were summoned repeatedly, but the cause remained unknown.

None could identify the illness. They only shook their heads in confusion.

Roderick could barely eat, spending most of his time in bed. His consciousness drifted, and he muttered incoherently.

“Seraphina…”

“If only I could go back.”

“One more chance.”

The servants kept their distance, watching from afar. They tended to him only when necessary, then quickly left. No one stayed by his side for long.

And then—

Weeks later.

Roderick Vandering drew his last breath quietly in his remote estate.

Until the end, they say, he kept murmuring something.

The Vandering duchy quietly announced the death of their heir.

Officially, it was “due to illness.”

A lonely life in exile had eroded his mind and body.

Only a handful knew the truth.