Chapter 1

November 15, 1920

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

In the middle of November of my twenty sixth year, I found myself completely and utterly lost. Every day was a repeat of the one before, every moment was mind numbingly dull and void of any hint of emotion. I was to be seen and not heard, to provide heirs to my husband, and to run his household. I was no longer allowed to read anything my husband didn't approve first: Shakespeare and Jane Austen were of the very few authors on the approved list, while Freud and Gandhi were strictly forbidden.

Our estate was filled with more hired help than I could ever hope to need: four chefs, two nannies, three manservants, three maids, and countless housekeepers. There was also, of course, my husband, Caledon Hockley, a Pittsburgh steel tycoon who was wonderful to everyone but his wife. His parents, Nathan and Elizabeth, who lived in a separate section of the estate, but they often joined us for dinner. My mother, Ruth Dewitt Bukater, who heartlessly married me off to Cal in an attempt to protect our status as wealthy first-class women. Most important, however, was my daughter, Amelia. I, and only I, called her Mia.

Mia was the one constant light in my life, amidst the constant darkness. She provided me with more love than anyone else, and I returned it. She made me laugh, smile… she made me feel something. She was my sunshine.

Unfortunately, as a high society woman, I was expected to take a backseat in the care of my daughter, and instead let the nannies take care of her. Still, I spent more time taking care of her than many other mothers I knew. I woke her up and dressed her every day, I tucked her in and read her stories every night before putting her to bed, and I spent time with her whenever I could. She was my favorite person, my best friend, at only five years old.

I lived in a gilded cage. To anyone looking at a high society woman such as myself, I led the dream life: a beautiful mansion of an estate, a husband that provided for me, and a daughter whom I loved with my whole heart. I suppose they have forgotten that dreams can be nightmares, too.

"Sweet pea," said a cold voice suddenly, and I nervously looked up in response. Cal was staring at me, his brown eyes piercing me. Just his gaze frightened me; just looking into them, I could remember the way he'd yelled at me, scared me, beaten me. I lived in constant fear of what he would do next. "Did you organize the menu for the Thanksgiving gala?"

I nodded quickly, hoping that my answer would satisfy him, and that he could leave me alone again with my thoughts. I was in a room with four people I hated with every fiber of my being, who had no interest in me, which was just as well, since I had no interest in them either. Mia, thankfully, was never present at dinner. She always ate earlier and was asleep well before the adults' dinner. It put me at ease knowing that she couldn't hear her father belittling me one snide remark at a time, Cal's father complaining about the fact that I hadn't provided him with an heir, or my mother disciplining me about anything, from my choices in clothing to my supposedly inappropriate relationship with Mia.

Suddenly, light footsteps pitter-pattered down the stairs as my heart sank. Mia was still awake, making her way downstairs and into the dining room to find me. I knew Cal would get angry that she was still awake, interrupting the grown ups discussing "important" matters. I knew my mother would scold me, asking me why I insist on taking care of Mia myself instead of letting the competent caregivers do it. I always answered with the simple response, "because she's my daughter," but that never seemed to get me very far.

She came into view then, standing in her baby pink nightgown, holding her stuffed bunny rabbit tightly against her chest. Her auburn hair was in pigtails, her porcelain cheeks were a pale pink. One look at that beautiful little girl melted my heart; I didn't understand how Cal could get angry at her and resent her existence. She was five years old: an innocent little girl who loved bunny rabbits and reading stories and playing in the garden, who deserved to have a father who would love her. "Mommy?" She said quietly with that lovely high pitched voice.

"Why is she awake?" Cal asked, his voice louder and angrier. He wasn't screaming, but I could tell he was upset. It was that voice, the one he used then, that scared me the most. It was his I'm angry but we're in public, so I can't scream at the top of my lungs voice. It was the voice that told me he would act out later, in private. "Rose. Can you hear me talking to you? Why is Amelia awake?"

"I can't sleep," Mia answered quietly. I saw her grip her stuffed animal tighter, hugging it for protection. "I wanted Mommy to tuck me back in." She looked terrified, standing there as we both waited for a response from Cal. It didn't matter what he said, to be honest. I still would've gotten up from the table and taken her back to bed. After all, I was willing to take any opportunity to leave the table, especially if it meant spending time with Mia.

Cal showed no mercy towards Mia. He crossed his arms, glaring at her. I wanted to get up, to slap him across the face and tell him to stop shooting daggers at her. But what would it accomplish? He would hurt me, this time in front of Mia, and god knows what he would do when everyone was asleep. It was best to just let it go and take care of Mia. God forbid anything ever happened to me, she would be all alone under his care. "No." He answered finally. "Your mother is having dinner with the grown ups."

I had had enough. "Cal," I said disappointedly. I gave him a look, telling him to leave it alone, that I'd be right back. Perhaps the hardest part of being married to Cal, the Cal that I had known before and during Titanic and throughout the last few years of our marriage was constantly pretending that I didn't hate him. I needed to act like a dutiful wife who admired her husband, rather than a woman dying to break out of the cage he kept he in. But I couldn't break out the way I had once before. I wasn't that seventeen year old girl anymore; I was a grown woman, a wife, and most importantly, a mother.

I stood up from the table and walked over to Mia, reaching out my hand to take hers. "Come on, sweet girl, I'll take you back to bed." Mia's small hand gripped mine tightly, and we started making our way upstairs. I lifted her into my arms and held her closely, knowing that both of us needed to feel the presence of the other. I knew she was scared of Cal: she really hardly knew him, considering he was her father. Her only interactions with him were during the day, when Cal and I happened to cross paths while Mia was under my care. Cal would always ask why I was with her instead of out with society friends (I always answered that they were busy, when really, I had no interest in seeing them most of the time). The other interactions were when Mia snuck out of bed and downstairs. Both times, Cal only showed indifference towards her, at best. He was always either angered by her presence or angered that I was busy with her instead of doing something that he considered more worthwhile.

Finally, we arrived in Mia's bedroom. I gently placed her down on the edge of the bed and knelt down to light the oil lamp on one of her bedside tables. The lamp provided a dim light, enough to make out everything in the room. There was a brown four poster bed with a lavender bedspread (incidentally, we had the same favorite color), one that was unmade and pulled down halfway. Stacked upon the hardwood floors were all of Mia's stuffed animals, fifteen of them in total. Of course, the bunny rabbit was her favorite: there was nothing Mia loved more than bunny rabbits. Her drawing table was cleaned off, her toys were neatly placed in the closet, and her books were neatly stacked on her small bookcase. I turned my attention back to Mia then. "Why are you still awake, baby?" I asked, stroking her soft cheek.

"I couldn't sleep," she shrugged. She held one of my hands in her two little ones, playing with each of my fingers and then twisting my engagement ring around in circles. "Is Father gonna yell at you because I came downstairs?" She looked up at me with such an honest look, I couldn't possibly lie to her. But I couldn't possibly tell her the truth either.

The fact that Cal insisted on her calling him "Father" bothered me beyond belief. He took himself too seriously, unable to realize that children were supposed to see the sensitive side, that you were supposed to allow yourself to become close with your children, even the ones that couldn't be heirs to the family company. Although I hated Cal (yes, our relationship had escalated to the point of hate), I wished that he could allow himself to love Mia, to see what a beautiful, intelligent, kind, loving little girl she was and know that she was his. I wished that for him, so maybe he could realize that there were more important things than his work, and I wished that for Mia, to have someone aside from me who could give her the attention and love she deserved.

"Don't worry about that," I said as I picked her up and placed her under the covers. I picked up the bottom of my light blue dress and sat on the edge of her bed. Mia's room made me feel safer than any other room in the house. As long as I was with Mia, Cal couldn't do anything. He couldn't hit me or take advantage of me in front of her - that only happened in my room, where no one could possibly find out what he was doing. I shoved the thought of Cal climbing on top of me out of my mind and focused on Mia. "You know if you ever need me, you can come find me. I don't care what your father says." I smiled and stroked her cheek, hoping to put her at ease somehow. "How about you close your eyes now, and try to go to sleep, hmm?"

I could see her eyelids growing heavier as she nodded. I helped her lay down and pulled the covers over her, stroking through her silky auburn curls. She looked a great deal like me, or at least I thought so: my red curls (although Cal's brown had seeped through a bit), blue eyes, porcelain skin, and the most beautiful smile. Sometimes I would even find her making facial expressions that I recognized from myself. Once I knew she was asleep, I stood up and smoothed out my dress before leaning down and kissing her cheek. I whispered good night, turned off the oil lamp, and opened the door to leave. "I love you, Mommy," she said quietly, her voice filled with sleep.

I turned back at her and smiled. "I love you too," I whispered, shoving away the pain I felt knowing that the only love we had was each other's. "Sweet dreams." I walked back over and gave her another kiss before reluctantly going back downstairs. I knew what was waiting for me in the dining room, but I had to go back in, or else it would be worse.

Cal was the first to speak. "I'm tired of that girl leaving her room after her bedtime!" He said 'girl' as if it was an insult, a disease, something that he didn't want. Of course, he didn't want her to be a girl. I knew that, but I hoped Mia didn't know that. I was sure she did, though; children always know more than you'd expect them to. "She can't keep coming down here during our dinner!"

I sat back down and placed the napkin back over my lap. I looked down at my plate and sighed. "I'm very sorry, Cal," I said quietly. There was no sarcasm, no attitude in my voice. I needed him to think I meant it, otherwise things would be much worse. Those days where I could storm away from the table, where I could insult him back, were long gone. I needed to keep the rules given to me for my sake and for Mia's.

I picked up my fork and picked at my vegetables, not feeling very hungry. Who had I become? I had become this soft, quiet, frightened woman, too afraid to stand up for what I believed in, even when it involved what was best for my daughter. Immediately, I thought of Jack, as I often did.

"They've got you trapped, Rose. And You're gonna die if you don't break free. Maybe not right away, because you're strong. But sooner or later the fire that I love about you, Rose… that fire is going to burn out."

"It's not up to you to save me, Jack."

"You're right. Only you can do that."

Jack was right, after all. My fire had burned out. It was extinguished by every comment, every beating, everything those people did took a little bit away from me until there was nothing left. How disappointed Jack must be in me, looking at what I've become. I've lost every bit of who I was. But what could I do about the situation? There was no Jack anymore to save me, I was legally bound to Cal, and I couldn't do anything to put Mia in danger.

There was no hope. I was trapped.

A/N: I've wanted to write this story for quite a while, and I finally started it. A big thank you to TitanicDancer401 who gave me ideas for what Mia's room could look like. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you liked the first chapter of this new story!