Amelia paced back and forth in the parlor, her frustration palpable. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked away the seconds, each one adding to her irritation. When Jack finally walked through the door, she turned on him, eyes blazing.

"Going away again, Jack? First Philadelphia, and now New York?" she demanded, her voice sharp with anger.

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was tired, the weight of his search for Rose and the strain of his impending marriage weighing heavily on him. "It's business, Amelia," he replied, trying to keep his tone even.

"Business or no business, Jack, you need to start preparing for the wedding. We are getting married in two months!" Amelia's voice rose, her frustration spilling over.

Annoyed, Jack clenched his fists at his sides. "I can't get out of it, Amelia. It's different now. We have business of our own to prepare for. You need to understand that."

Amelia's eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Understand? All I see is you running off at every opportunity, leaving me to deal with everything alone. This is supposed to be our wedding, Jack. Our future."

Jack took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. "And I'm doing what I can to secure that future, Amelia. But you need to get used to the fact that my work requires me to travel. It's not going to change."

"Fine," Amelia snapped, her voice icy. "But don't expect me to just sit here and wait for you to decide to show up."

"Good night, Amelia," Jack said firmly, his patience worn thin. He turned on his heel and left the room, not looking back as he walked out the door. As he made his way down the street, the cool night air did little to calm his frayed nerves. He knew Amelia was right in some ways and he truly felt guilty for lying. Yet he couldn't rest until he had found her. There was now only one place and believed to find a clue on where to find her.

Jack walked through the imposing gates of Oliver's prestigious boarding school, the weight of his worries pressing down on him. The meticulously kept grounds and grand buildings seemed a world away from the chaos and heartbreak that had engulfed his life recently. He made his way to the administrative office, where a receptionist directed him to Gilbert's office.

"Jack? How good it is to see you in person. What can I do for you?" Gilbert asked, looking up from his desk.

"I'd like to speak with Oliver," Jack replied, his voice strained with urgency as he took a seat in front of him.

Gilbert nodded and made a quick call. Moments later, the door opened, and Oliver stepped in. The young boy Jack remembered had transformed into a well-put-together young man, his school uniform pristine and his red curls neatly combed and styled. The moment Oliver saw Jack, he rushed over and wrapped his arms around him. For a moment, they held each other close, and Jack realized that this was the closest he was to Rose now. The boy was all he has left of her.

When they finally let go, Jack took a deep breath. "Oliver, some things have happened," he began, struggling to find the right words.

Oliver's face grew serious. "It is about Rose, isn't it?"

Jack nodded, his throat tight. "Yes. I made a really big mistake, Oliver. Rose is very angry with me, and now I can't find her anywhere to make things right. I was hoping you might know where she is."

Oliver shook his head, disappointment and worry in his eyes. "Rose did write me a letter," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a carefully folded piece of paper. "She said she had to go away for a while and that she'd be back in a few months. She mentioned something about a new job or something, but she didn't tell me where she was going. She asked me to come with her, but I couldn't just leave school."

Jack unfolded the letter, his hands trembling slightly as he read Rose's familiar handwriting. It was brief and vague, offering little information beyond what Oliver had already told him. The sense of hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him again, but he forced himself to stay focused.

"Do you know anything else, Oliver? Anything at all that might help me find her?" Jack asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

Oliver shook his head again, his expression pained. "I'm sorry, Jack. I wish I knew more. She didn't say much in the letter, just that she needed to go away and that she'd be back. She said she loved me and that she hoped I'd understand."

Jack sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and sorrow. He couldn't blame Oliver; the boy was just as in the dark as he was. "Thank you, Oliver," he said, his voice softening. "If you hear anything, anything at all, please let me know."

"I will," Oliver promised, his eyes full of concern for both Rose and Jack.

Jack pulled him into another brief hug. "Take care of yourself, Oliver. And don't worry, I'll do everything I can to find her."

"Will you come and visit me again, Jack?" Oliver asked as he was about to leave the office.

"Of course," He smiled at the boy, "I'll come and visit you as much as I can. And if you ever want to come and visit me in Boston, know you're always welcome."

"Thank you, Jack."

Jack watched Oliver walk out of the office, feeling a deep sense of despair. With every step Oliver took, Jack felt as though he was moving further away from finding Rose. The office suddenly seemed to close in on him, suffocating him with its sterile, impersonal air.

He stumbled out of the office, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. Despite the hope he had clung to when he first arrived, the reality was setting in hard: he was back at ground zero. Oliver, her little brother, who she was so close to, didn't even know where she had gone. Jack's heart sank further, his stomach tightening in a painful knot.

Unable to bear the weight of his failure and the crushing despair that followed, he headed towards the restroom. His vision blurred, and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The walls seemed to close in tighter as he moved, each step feeling heavier than the last. He pushed open the restroom door, barely managing to get inside before he doubled over.

He braced himself against the sink, struggling to keep his composure as his stomach churned violently. He gasped for breath, feeling as though the walls of the tiny restroom were pressing in on him, mocking his helplessness. The emptiness of Rose's apartment, the broken trust, and the realization that his search had led him nowhere surged through him like a tidal wave.

It was over. The finality of it hit him like a sledgehammer. All the resources, the time spent, and the effort he had invested were seemingly for nothing. The more he tried to think of a way forward, the more he felt trapped in a cycle of despair.

After a few moments, Jack took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He splashed cold water on his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The man looking back at him was a shadow of the confident, powerful figure he used to be. Now, he was just a man who had lost the woman he loved and felt utterly powerless to change the course of events.

Boston

Jack's eyes were heavy with exhaustion as he continued to scan through the paperwork on his desk. The office was eerily silent, the hum of the city outside a distant backdrop to his restless thoughts. The hours seemed to blend together as he sifted through document after document, his mind still caught in the search for Rose.

The sudden sound of the door creaking open made him look up. Amelia entered the office, her presence stark against the dimly lit room. Jack barely had time to register her arrival before she spoke.

"I thought I might find you here," Amelia said, her voice soft and tentative.

Jack forced a tired smile. "I'm almost finished. You should head home."

Amelia shook her head gently, her expression serious. "No, Jack. I came here to apologize for my behavior last week. I realize I was harsh, and I want to show you that I can be a good wife. I understand that this has been a difficult time for you."

Confusion crossed Jack's face as Amelia walked toward the windows. She pulled the curtains shut, cloaking the room in darkness. The change in atmosphere was palpable, and Jack's unease grew as Amelia moved slowly, almost deliberately.

When Amelia turned back toward him, Jack noticed for the first time that she was wearing an unusually long coat for the time of year. The heavy fabric seemed out of place in the warm office. His curiosity turned to alarm as she began to unbutton it, her movements slow and purposeful.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked, his voice tinged with concern. He tried to focus on her face, but his gaze kept drifting to the coat as it fell to the floor, revealing her underclothes beneath.

Amelia's gaze remained fixed on him, her eyes filled with an intense determination. "I want to make things right, Jack. I want to show you that I am here for you, that I can support you in every way."

She stepped closer to him, her bare skin seeming to shimmer in the dim light. The contrast between her vulnerability and his own sense of defeat was stark. She reached out and took his hand, her touch warm against his cold, weary skin.

Jack's heart raced, but it wasn't the passionate rush of desire he felt. Instead, it was a deep confusion and a sense of betrayal. "Amelia, I… I don't think this is the right time for this."

She closed the distance between them, her eyes pleading. "Please, Jack. Just let me be here for you. I want to be able to prove to you that I can be a good wife. I can be what you want me to be. I can be what you are yearning for, what you desire."

Jack tried to pull his hand back, but Amelia's grip was firm. He could feel the tension in her touch, the desperation in her voice. It wasn't just about what she was offering now—it was about the overwhelming pressure and expectations she had placed upon him.

Her hand reached up towards her breast before she took his other hands and reached it up as well. Jack had turned silent and only watched her. She lowered down and sat onto his lap before she started to kiss him. Amelia was hungry for him, her touches begging him to react in a same manner. It took seconds, maybe minutes for Jack to respond to her movements. He pulled the shoulder straps of her underdress down with great force revealing her bare breasts. She moaned his name against his lips. It sounded desperate. Within their embrace, they stood up before Jack turned her around and bend her over his desk. He lifted up her dress before thrusting deep inside of her. As he continued with his actions Jack closed his eyes, feeling a sense of guilt waver over him. At least to him, this moment had nothing to do with love. It was simply the weakness of his lust. His hunger for the form of connection that he could not have. Heavy breathing filled the quiet office and load moans escaped from Amelia's lips before she collapsed onto the desk. They both caught their breaths, comprehending what had just happened before Jack lifted up his trousers.

"You won't regret this marriage, Jack." Amelia then said as she put on her clothes. Jack was standing in front of the window staring through a small slit of the curtains.

"I'm sorry, Amelia." He whispered.

"Sorry for what?"

"I cannot do this."

"Cannot do what?"

He eventually turned around to face her, his eyes filled with tears. "This marriage. I simply cannot marry you."

Amelia's faced had turned completely white. "I'll talk to you in the morning when you have come back to your senses."

"No," He stated, "Rose has disappeared into thin air. I found out her father is dead. There is nothing left anymore, Amelia. Everything is over and done. I do not love you. I will never love you. I cannot marry you."

Stepping forward, Amelia slapped her hand against his face as hard as she could. "You should have made that clear before you decided to fuck me, you bastard. Your actions will have consequences, trust me."

The consequences of all his actions from the past months had turned Jack Dawson into a completely different person. He had simply become the shell of what he had once been. The annulment of his engagement to Amelia had rocked high society. Whispers and rumors spread like wildfire, casting Jack as the villain in a tragic play. To many, he was nothing more than a selfish fool, who had abandoned his responsibilities and obligations. Social events that once included him now avoided him, and even his closest friends had distanced themselves, either out of disdain or out of fear of being tainted by his scandal.

In the office, Jack's interactions with his staff had become minimal. His secretary, once a diligent worker who admired him, now seemed hesitant to approach him unless absolutely necessary. The occasional staff member who did venture near his office spoke in hushed tones, careful not to disturb the cloud of desolation that seemed to hang over him.

Weeks passed him by in a restless wave. A physical escape was all that he had to courage for to do so. It took him to the only person who seemed to still appreciate his presence.

Jack found solace in Central Park, a rare sanctuary amidst the chaos of the city. Today, he sat on a weathered park bench with Oliver. The two were surrounded by the muted colors of autumn, the trees shedding their leaves in a slow, deliberate dance.

Oliver, engrossed in a book, occasionally looked up to observe Jack's struggle with a sketchpad. Jack was trying to capture the scene in front of him—a picturesque view of the park with its winding paths and distant skyline. But his drawings were disjointed, reflecting his inner turmoil more than the serenity of the park.

Finally, Oliver spoke, breaking the silence. "I can't help but feel angry at Rose for leaving so suddenly, without giving me a single sign."

Jack's pencil paused mid-stroke. He looked up at Oliver, his expression one of weariness and regret. "You shouldn't be angry at Rose," he said quietly. "She had good reasons to leave. It's me you should be angry with."

Oliver's gaze softened as he shook his head. "I can't be angry with you, Jack. I admire you too much. And when I grow up, I want to be just like you."

Jack's hand faltered, his eyes meeting Oliver's with a mix of sadness and surprise. "No, Oliver. You don't want to be like me. You need to be better than me. You need to learn from my mistakes."

Oliver frowned slightly, clearly struggling with the concept. "But you're strong, Jack. You've done so much. I look up to you."

Jack sighed, feeling the weight of his failures. "Strength isn't just about achieving things, Oliver. It's also about making the right choices. I've made a lot of mistakes. I've hurt people. And now I'm paying the price."

He paused, trying to collect his thoughts. The park's serene atmosphere contrasted sharply with the turmoil inside him. "Rose didn't leave because she didn't care. She left because she had to. And I'm the reason for that. I failed her, and now I have to face the consequences."

Oliver's face was a mixture of confusion and sympathy. "But you're trying to fix things, right? You're doing everything you can to find her."

Jack shook his head, the frustration evident in his voice. "I've tried. I've looked everywhere, but she's gone without a trace."

"Yes. And that is why I am angry. I believe I will be angry forever."