Life Erased, the Mafia Queen Returns Chapter 10

Life Erased, the Mafia Queen Returns Chapter 10

That evening, I took Jasper with me, the little boy who had clung to me all day and refused to let go. 

Vincent’s phone was dead, and he had fallen asleep again. I asked Jasper if he knew his dad’s assistant’s number. 

Jasper fumbled with his Apple Watch, tapped a name, and said 

in his clear little voice: 

“Theo, my dad has a headache and drank again. Can you come 

to the house?” 

Theo answered almost immediately. It seemed like Vincent’s 

current state wasn’t unusual for them. 

I couldn’t help asking, 

“Does your dad get headaches often?” 

Jasper nodded matter–of–factly. 

“Of course. When he has a headache, he drinks. It works better 

than sleeping pills.” 

Vincent, who had once passed out after a single drink, now 

relied on alcohol more than medicine. 

When Theo arrived, I carried the luggage in one hand and held Jasper’s hand with the other. 

His little head kept turning back, as if worried Vincent would suddenly appear like that morning and snatch him away. 

Just before we left the mansion, Theo called out to me. 

He told me Jasper’s school transfer was completed—he no 

longer needed to shuttle back and forth between Long Island 

and New York. 

I paused. That was faster than I expected. 

Theo hesitated, perhaps trying to explain on behalf of his Don: 

“Actually, Don isn’t usually like this. You know his tolerance 

–he’s quiet once he falls asleep. Today… today should just be 

considered an accident.” 

I smiled faintly. 

“I know.” 

Of course I knew. 

Seventeen years old, Vincent had tasted alcohol for the first 

time. 

One sip, and he collapsed face–down on the table. 

A few minutes later, he calmly got up, and I thought he was 

sober–until he dumped all the fish food into Seth’s prized 

tank, mixed sugar into the salt, and threw the keys to the 

confinement room into the pond, all with an unreadable 

expression. 

He waddled like a toddler, yet insisted I sit under the tree with him and learn to weave grass–ring rings. 

Petals drifted down in the wind. I looked up, and through the 

falling flowers, I met a pair of dark, silent eyes. 

He held the ring in my palm and said slowly: 

“Don’t lose it.” 

My cheeks burned, and I couldn’t help but glance away. 

The next morning, Vincent remembered what he’d done and 

spent three full days coming to terms with the fact that he was hopelessly drunk after one drink. 

From then on, he never touched alcohol again. 

Thinking of that day, I smiled again. But when I lifted my head, Vincent was standing at the top of the stairs, silently watching us. 

Jasper, as if sensing danger, tugged me along without looking back, whispering: 

“Mom, let’s go!” 

Vincent didn’t follow. I only heard him whisper as we reached the gate: 

“Till next time.” 

So soft, it was like the petals that had once kissed my eyelashes, soft like the crude but precious grass–ring ring in my palm, soft as if it were only my imagination. 

Then–next time. 

If there even is a next time.