Life Erased, the Mafia Queen Returns Chapter 07

Life Erased, the Mafia Queen Returns Chapter 07

The heat of his grip on my wrist was scorching. The burn of it 

made it painfully clear this wasn’t a hallucination. 

Vincent leaned closer and explained in a low voice, 

“I’m not talking about you.” 

It took me a moment to realize I had misread the situation. I 

awkwardly pulled my hand back. 

He only lowered his gaze to my empty palm, curling his fingers slightly as if to protect something, then called the guards. His expression remained cold and indifferent. 

“Weren’t you supposed to stop her from coming in?” 

The voice on the other end rushed out an apologetic flurry, 

stumbling over words. Some instructions were muttered in 

chaos. 

A short while after hanging up, the guard sent back a 

surveillance video. 

Vincent handed me the phone. I stared, puzzled, so he 

explained: 

“I never let Ivy in. She followed you in quietly.” 

When I hesitated, he shoved the phone firmly into my hand, carefully closing each of my fingers around it, serious as ever. 

“Evidence. Keep it.” 

Yet beneath that, I caught the faint scent of alcohol. 

Vincent? Drunk? That couldn’t be right. 

Slowly, it dawned on me that this version of Vincent wasn’t 

quite like usual. Anyone else might not even notice, but I knew: when Vincent drank, he became unpredictable and hard 

to manage. 

Under his watchful eye, I braced myself and watched the video. 

He stood close the whole time, and when it ended, his gaze 

pressed me for a reaction, silently demanding my “thoughts 

on the footage.” 

Nervously, I forced a laugh and scrambled to change the topic. 

“You seem a little warm. Maybe you have a fever?” 

He lifted a hand to his forehead, paused as if seriously evaluating, then said, with mock seriousness, 

“Oh. Looks like I do.” 

…Useless. Absolutely hopeless. 

I turned my head with a quiet sigh–and saw Jasper dragging his little suitcase from the room, struggling with it as he spotted me at the doorway. 

His eyes widened, and without hesitation, he dropped the suitcase–almost as tall as his shoulder–ran toward me, voice breaking, 

“Mom!” 

Vincent frowned, brushing Jasper’s hands off my legs. His expression was stern. 

“Stop shouting. This is my wife.” 

Jasper stumbled back, indignant and almost in tears, his flushed little face twisted with anger as he glared at him. 

“Are you a robber? Mom came here to see me!” 

His tiny voice was sharp, frantic–like two sparrows chirping 

at once. 

Before I could say a word, Vincent pulled me toward the 

bedroom, his face cold. 

Jasper tried to follow, kicking his short legs, but Vincent 

pressed a finger to his forehead and gently pushed him back, 

expressionless. 

The door slammed shut with a final thud. 

The world went quiet.