At my wedding, I caught my brother slipping something into my glass. I didn’t scream or panic. Instead, I quietly switched our drinks. Then he raised his toast, smirked, and said, “Congrats, little sister. My surprise is coming soon.” I smiled while he drank it. Thirty minutes later, everyone witnessed the truth.

Three days later, Derek opened his eyes.

The ICU room was quiet, save for the rhythmic, mechanical hum of the heart monitor and the soft hiss of the oxygen line. Tubes ran into his arms, and his skin was still deathly pale.

When his eyes finally focused, he didn't see his mother crying beside him. He didn't see his father holding his hand.

He saw me.

I sat in a high-backed chair in the corner of the room, dressed in a sharp, dark suit, quietly sipping a cup of black tea. Daniel stood near the door, his arms crossed, watching the monitors.

Derek let out a dry, raspy cough, his throat damaged from the breathing tube that had been removed hours earlier.

"M... Mara..." he choked out, his voice a barely audible scrape.

"Don't try to speak too fast, Derek," I said, setting my teacup down with a soft click. "The doctors said the damage to your vocal cords will take a few weeks to heal. The aconitine did quite a number on your nervous system."

Derek’s eyes darted frantically around the room. "Where... where is Dad? Where is Mom?"

"Father is currently preparing for his arraignment," I replied casually. "He was charged yesterday with obstruction of justice and corporate fraud related to your embezzlement of the pension fund. Mother is at the house, trying to find a criminal defense lawyer who will take her calls."

Derek swallowed hard, his chest heaving under the thin hospital blanket. "You... you swapped... the glass..."

"I did," I said, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "Did you really think I wouldn't see you, Derek? Did you truly believe I was that blind, that stupid, that helpless?"

A tear of pure rage and helplessness leaked from the corner of Derek's eye. "You... poisoned me..."

"No," I corrected sharply. "You poisoned yourself. You brought a deadly chemical to my wedding. You poured it into a glass. You raised it in a toast. You drank it. I simply let you experience the consequences of your own choices. If I had swallowed that champagne, I would be in a coffin today. You are alive because I gave the paramedics the glass instantly so they could identify the antidote."

Derek closed his eyes, his breathing ragged. "I'll... I'll tell the police... you did it intentionally..."

"You can tell them whatever you like," I said, pulling a stack of legal documents from my briefcase. "But two detectives are standing right outside that door waiting for the doctor to clear you for transport to the county jail. They have your dark-web search history, your bitcoin transactions, and the video footage from the mansion's study. Your trial is going to be very short, Derek."

Derek opened his eyes, staring at me with a mixture of profound shock and deep-seated terror. The sister he had spent two decades bullying, mocking, and trying to crush was sitting before him as his absolute judge and executioner.

"Why?" Derek whimpered, his arrogance finally broken into pieces. "Why didn't you just stop me before I drank it?"

"Because if I stopped you," I said, standing up and buttoning my jacket, "you would have tried again tomorrow. Or next week. Or next year. You needed to learn that I am no longer your victim."