Life Erased, the Mafia Queen Returns Chapter 08

Life Erased, the Mafia Queen Returns Chapter 08

I didn’t know when the door lock had evolved into something I couldn’t open. 

After fiddling with it for a while to no avail, and hearing no cries from Jasper outside, I relaxed slightly. 

I turned my head–and saw Vincent standing there, holding a medicine box, his expression unreadable. 

He shoved the box into my arms and said bluntly, 

“I’m sick. I need to take the medicine.” 

I had no idea what they had done last night to end up with both of them running a fever. 

Resigned, I started looking for the medicine. Vincent, however, stayed unnervingly still, eyes fixed on me, as if I might vanish the moment I blinked. 

I picked up a pill and put it in his hand. I tried to reason gently, 

“Jasper needs to take medicine too. Can you help me open the 

door?” 

His hand froze mid–air. 

He didn’t even take the pill. Gradually, his eyes reddened, and 

in a small, wounded voice he complained, 

“…Every time you do this. You only care about him, not me.” 

I nearly choked. When have I-? 

But then, I remembered that day we met again. Vincent had 

asked, 

“So you only want to talk about Jasper now?” 

Was that what he had meant back then? 

Trying to reason with a toddler–level, overly jealous mafia king was pointless. I surrendered and changed my approach: 

“There’s no water in the study. I’m afraid you might choke taking your medicine. I’ll go get some for you, okay?” 

Vincent hesitated, eyes studying me as if checking my 

sincerity. 

He didn’t open the door. Instead, he sauntered back to the 

table, raised his chin, and said with calm pride, 

“No need. I have water.” 

And then he swallowed the pill with the wine in his glass. 

So fast I barely had time to stop him. 

My mind went blank. The first thought that hit me: thank god 

it wasn’t an antibiotic. 

I quickly scanned the medicine instructions, even searched 

online. Finding no record of a dangerous interaction with 

alcohol, I finally let myself relax–but not before realizing I 

was covered in cold sweat from head to toe. 

Weakly, I said, 

“Vincent, open the door. I need water.” 

He held out his half–finished glass, face innocent. 

I raised an eyebrow and said flatly, 

“You drank from that. And I don’t drink alcohol.” 

Vincent froze, murmured an embarrassed “Oh,” and 

hesitated, dithering for a moment before shuffling to the door 

and opening it. 

I stared, stunned. 

He hadn’t budged an inch for Jasper’s fever, choosing to swallow medicine with alcohol rather than yield. Yet now, he relented so easily–just because I said, “I want water.” 

Vincent stood at the doorway, looking half–asleep. 

“Remember to come back, okay?”