The Rest of My Life, Without You
Tony Gambino never forgave me. His childhood sweetheart died saving my life, and for seven years, his hatred was a constant, silent burn.
I fasted. I prayed. I begged for absolution.
He met my penance with a cold sneer. "I'll only forgive you when you're dead."
The words were a knife to the heart. So why, when we were both poisoned, did he shove the only antidote down my throat?
As the poison claimed him, blood trickling from his lips, he choked out his last words, "Scarlett... in our next life, let's never meet."
Later, I tried to visit his grave. His sworn brother and Consigliere, Richard Bruno, blocked my path. He pressed a gun to my forehead.
"I don't know how you have the nerve to show your face here, Scarlett. He'd be alive if he hadn't saved you.
"I should never have let him give up Elma for you. You're a curse. Everyone who gets close to you gets destroyed."
Their eyes were unanimous in their blame. And they were right.
So I watched his gravesite from a distance, my own guilt a heavier stone than any marker.
Not long after, I was killed in a gang crossfire.
When I opened my eyes, I was seven years in the past. This time, I made a different choice: I let Tony go—so that everyone might live.