He Secretly Married My Sister ,So I Faked My Death and Let Him Lose Everything

The champagne tower at center stage came crashing down in a cascade of glass and liquid, shards flying in every direction.

"What's wrong with you, young lady? You can't even walk without slamming into me, and now you've knocked the whole thing over!" Mr. Finch, Frederick's business partner, barked at the culprit.

The woman across from him said nothing, her face a picture of helpless resignation.

Anyone with eyes could see that Mr. Finch's suit was worth a small fortune, and now it was drenched in champagne. The temperature in the room plummeted.

The commotion drew our attention. The moment Frederick's gaze locked onto the woman responsible, something shifted in him. I felt it in the way his hand released mine.

He was about to walk over when I accidentally stepped on the edge of a tablecloth. A row of glasses tipped and nearly cascaded onto me. Frederick's reflexes kicked in. He grabbed me and pulled me close, shielding my stomach.

Shards of glass sliced into my hand. Blood ran freely between my fingers. He didn't even glance at it.

"Libby, are you alright? Just rest here for a minute. My friend seems to have run into some trouble."

The crowd was thick, but through the gaps between onlookers, I spotted a pair of eyes I knew all too well.

My adoptive sister, Agatha. Dramatic as ever. She stood there in a scarlet dress, her expression dripping with contempt, utterly unbothered by the powerful man she'd just offended.

Frederick cut through the crowd and positioned himself in front of Mr. Finch, tucking Agatha behind him.

"Mr. Finch, it's such a wonderful evening. Don't let this ruin your mood. You mentioned earlier you wanted some of the wine I ordered? However many bottles you'd like, they're yours."

Frederick was all smiles and flattery. When Mr. Finch's expression finally softened, Frederick quickly had someone bring out a fresh suit.

Agatha stayed behind him the entire time, gazing up at him with naked adoration as he smoothed everything over for her.

After enough reassurances, the crisis passed. The crowd dispersed. Frederick finally let out a long breath.

In a quiet corner near the stage, he wiped the cold sweat from his brow. "Why are you back? Mr. Finch is one of our most important partners. How could you be so careless—"

Before he could finish, Agatha threw herself into his arms, unable to contain herself any longer. "It's been days. Didn't you miss me? I wanted to surprise you, so I didn't tell you I was coming."

His reaction wasn't what she'd expected. Frederick flinched, startled, then glanced around nervously. His eyes landed directly on me, standing right there, watching them both.

"When did you get back? It's been a while, Agatha." I walked toward them, keeping my voice even.

Agatha didn't let go of Frederick's arm. Her words, though, came laced with thorns. "It really has been a while. You still look terrible, sis."

"What's the matter? Hasn't your dear husband been taking good care of you?" She let out a derisive laugh, her eyes glittering with scorn. "Or maybe it's not you he's been taking care of."

I wasn't about to swallow that kind of provocation. I stepped forward, ready to put her in her place, but Frederick blocked my path.

"Libby, calm down. She's just joking around."

"Agatha, why don't you pour your sister a glass of water?" He gestured toward a cup nearby.

Frederick shot Agatha a look. She played obedient, picked up the cup, and brought it over with an apology.

I didn't want to accept anything from her. But Agatha kept pressing, and in the end, I took it.

My throat was parched. I drank it all in one gulp. Instantly, a searing burn tore through my mouth and spread down my throat. I collapsed to the floor, curling into myself, screaming. "My stomach—it hurts!" The sound drew a crowd.

The cup shattered on the ground. Agatha stumbled back, wide-eyed, turning helplessly toward Frederick. But beneath the panic, a flicker of satisfaction crossed her face.

Her hands trembled. She didn't dare come closer. Frederick swallowed hard, frozen for a beat, then scooped me into his arms and rushed for the hospital.

But it was already too late. Hours of induced vomiting and stomach pumping couldn't undo what the concentrated alcohol had done. My baby was gone.

I couldn't believe what the doctor was telling me. The child I had hoped for, prayed for, wished into existence—taken by a single glass of Agatha's "water."

When they wheeled me out of the emergency room, I had no strength left. My eyes were hollow. Tears had dried in streaks across my face.

Voices drifted down the corridor outside. Faint, but I caught every word.

"Frederick, what do we do now? I only gave it to her because you told me to. I didn't think it would actually make her miscarry!"

"How could you be so careless? That child was the only reason I've been putting up with this."

"Forget it. It's fine. We'll just have her get pregnant again."

"Relax. When the time comes, act sweet and beg her forgiveness. She can't really do anything to you. Besides, I'm the one who told you to hand her that drink."

Frederick's tone was light, almost bored, though a trace of regret flickered in his eyes.

My breathing turned ragged. My eyes went wide. Frederick had only ever cared about the baby. Not once had he worried about whether I lived or died. The child was gone, and the grief crushed down on my chest like a physical weight, suffocating and relentless.

After I was moved to a private room, the two of them finally appeared. Agatha stood beside the bed, clinging to Frederick's arm with a look of helpless distress. Rage boiled through me. I glared at them both with every ounce of hatred I had.

"I'm so sorry, sis. It was an accident. I grabbed the wrong one. It's all my fault. Whatever you need while you recover, I'll do it." Agatha's face was the portrait of remorse. She clutched my ice-cold hand, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I wrenched my hand free with what little strength I had and turned away. Watching these two wolves perform their little act made my stomach turn.

I lay in that hospital bed, hollowed out. Frederick made a few perfunctory arrangements and left.

"Agatha just got back. I need to get her settled in. Libby, you focus on resting."

As if the child he'd lost wasn't his. I couldn't detect a single trace of grief in him. The coldness of it left me speechless. I spent the next few days recovering alone.

But the sterile chill of the hospital was more than I could bear. I asked to go home to recuperate. Frederick said he needed to finish looking after Agatha first. I shook my head in quiet disappointment.

Early the next morning, Frederick and Agatha left ahead of me. By the time they arrived home, my parents were waiting at the door with open arms.

"Welcome home, Agatha! Mom and Dad have had dinner ready for hours!"

Frederick had even tidied himself up for the occasion, all to welcome Agatha back.

After I finished the discharge paperwork, I went home alone. No one noticed I'd arrived.