I Cut Off His Meds After Being Kicked Out, and My Mafia Ex Went Crazy

The crash of a shattered vase came from inside the room, followed by low, heavy breaths like a wounded animal. It was two-thirty in the morning. I stood outside the bedroom door. Vincent's severe mania had flared up. In my past life, I'd pushed the door open with a sedative, just like always. But I didn't know his condition had mutated that night—it was the first time he entered the extreme phase of his bloodline eruption. Standard sedatives were completely useless. His instincts would drive him to crave a woman's comfort like a madman. I'd walked in unguarded, thinking I'd just give him a shot like usual. Instead, he lost himself and pinned me to the bed. I gritted my teeth through the pain, soothing his frenzy while lust and rage tangled together. After all, I loved him back then. That night, I got pregnant. But when he woke up, he accused me of taking advantage of him. He turned around and gave all his affection to my half-sister, Sofia. In the end, I died hemorrhaging during childbirth while he was out picking wedding dresses with her. Now that I've been given a second life, I knew exactly what was behind that door tonight. I poured the sedative down the sink. I pulled myself back to the present and looked at Sofia standing beside me. She was wearing a thin silk nightgown, her face twisted with impatience as she pointed at the empty tray in my hand. "What are you standing there like a statue with an empty tray? Vincent pays you a fortune to be his private doctor, not to daydream in the hallway. Get in there and give him his damn shot! If he gets hurt, can someone like you even afford to take responsibility?" She'd always loved taking everything from me. My dresses. My father's attention. And finally, Vincent's fiancée position. "You're right. Someone needs to go in and save him." I gave her a cold look. "But what he needs right now isn't medicine. It's a woman." Sofia froze and took half a step back. "Haven't you always wanted to prove you deserve to stand by his side more than I do?" I pointed at the door. "Go in now. When he wakes up, you'll be the first person he sees." Sofia stared at the door. Her greed for power quickly crushed her fear. "Smart move." She shoved me aside and lifted her chin. "Get back to your staff quarters and stay out of the way. The Boss's wife was always supposed to be me." She pushed the door open and walked in. Inside, Vincent's eyes were bloodshot. The manic fire raging through his veins had consumed his sanity. For the first time in his life, he was drowning in a primal, unfamiliar hunger for a woman. He caught a strong whiff of perfume—sharp and cloying. Not as pleasant as the scent of herbs. But he was past caring. Animal instinct seized him and dragged the woman into his arms, slamming her down. A shriek came from inside, followed by frantic movement and Sofia's muffled sobs. I turned, went downstairs, walked back to the staff quarters, locked the door, unplugged the phone line, and slept until morning. The next afternoon. I walked into the dining room with a supply confirmation sheet in hand. Vincent sat at the head of the table, cutting into his steak. Sofia sat to his right. When she heard my footsteps, she deliberately tugged her collar lower, showing off the red marks and the ring of purple bruises around her neck. I stopped at the table. Sofia picked up her coffee cup, her voice syrupy but dripping with smugness. "Elena, Vincent was so wild last night. I can barely walk straight." She touched the marks on her neck and shot me a triumphant glare. "You spend all day in the infirmary, so you wouldn't know anything about this. Go to your pharmacy and grab me the most expensive scar cream. If these leave marks, Vincent would be heartbroken." "Let me see." I glanced at the bruises and red marks, then gave my diagnosis. "The skin isn't broken. Just soft tissue bruising. No risk of infection. No prescription needed." The smug smile on Sofia's face froze. "What do you know? It hurts!" She raised her voice and turned to Vincent with a pout. "Vincent, look at her! You said I could have the best of everything in the estate, and she's just a salaried doctor. Who does she think she is to talk to me like that?" Vincent set down his knife and fork, his gaze fixed on me. When he'd woken up last night and found Sofia lying beside him, his first reaction had been an inexplicable surge of irritation. He'd expected Elena to lose her mind with jealousy, like she'd done for the past three years. He'd braced himself for her to throw a fit, to demand explanations, to fight for his attention. But I was calm. I placed the confirmation sheet beside Vincent's hand and tapped the signature line. "Ice packs will bring the swelling down in a while." I cut off Sofia's tantrum. "The imported scar cream you want costs three thousand dollars a tube. It's not in the budget. If Boss agrees to pay from his personal account, I'll place the order now." The dining room went quiet. Sofia glared at me. She hadn't expected me to embarrass her in public over a few thousand dollars. Vincent's brows drew together. He stared at me hard. He waited a few seconds, searching my face for any trace of pettiness. Finding none, he grabbed the pen and signed his name, pressing so hard the nib tore through the paper. "Forget it." He slapped the sheet back onto the table. "Get her an ice pack." "Understood." I pulled the sheet out, checked his signature, and walked out of the dining room.