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Twenty-Four hours before we were to be married -- I offered to shoot her. Ten hours before our wedding -- I made a mockery of her dying wish. Five hours before we were going to say our vows -- I promised I'd never love her. One hour before I said I do -- I vowed I'd never shed a tear over her death. But the minute we were pronounced man and wife -- I knew. I'd only use my gun to protect her. I'd give my life for hers. I'd cry. And I would, most definitely, lose my heart, to a dying girl -- -a girl who by all accounts should have never been mine in the first place. I always believed the mafia would be my endgame -- where I'd lose my heart, while it claimed my soul. I could have never imagined. It would be my redemption. Or the beginning of something beautiful. The beginning of her. The end of us.