Jack sat in his office, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The confrontation with Rose a few days prior haunted him. Her words, filled with pain and betrayal, echoed in his ears. He leaned back in his chair, staring aimlessly out the window, trying to find a way to make things somewhat right.

His secretary knocked on the door and stepped in, interrupting his thoughts. "Mr. Dawson, you have a call from Collegiate School in New York," she said.

Jack's heart skipped a beat. "Put it through," he instructed, sitting up straight and picking up the receiver. "This is Jack Dawson."

"Jack, it's Gilbert," came the familiar voice of his old friend on the other end. Gilbert had been working at the school for years and knew Jack well. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Not at all, Gil. What's going on?" Jack asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Gilbert sighed. "I'm a bit confused about a matter concerning one of our students, Oliver Smith. His older sister contacted us, asking to take him out of the program."

Jack felt a lump form in his throat. He swallowed hard. "What did you say, Gil?"

"I told her I had to discuss it with you first," Gilbert replied. "You fund his education, after all."

Jack's grip tightened on the phone. "Listen to me, Gil. No matter what Rose Smith says, Oliver is not to be taken out of the school. Understood?"

There was a pause on the other end. "Are you sure, Jack? She seemed quite insistent."

"Absolutely," Jack said firmly. "Oliver's education is crucial. He's doing well there, and he needs stability. I'll deal with Rose, but Oliver stays."

"Alright, Jack. I'll make sure of it," Gilbert said, his tone supportive. "I trust your judgment."

"Thank you, Gil. I appreciate it," Jack said, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Jack put the phone back on the hook, realizing that her anger was thus big that she tried to erase him in ever possible aspect of her love, even through the education of her little brother. She needed to know, was all he thought. She simply needed to know. He slowly opened a drawer of his desk, took out a piece of paper and started to write. The words flowed out of him like a waterfall.

Rose, my love,

I write this letter with a heart full of regret and sorrow. I know that this might be the last thing you want to receive from me, but I need you to understand the truth. I need you to know why I did what I did.

I know you are angry and hurt, and you have every right to be. My actions have caused you pain, and for that, I am deeply sorry. My brother, Ernest, discovered the truth about your father and used it to blackmail me. He threatened to bring him back into your life, to destroy the safety and peace you had found. I thought by agreeing to marry Amelia, I could protect you from him. I thought I could shield you from the storm that was brewing. But in doing so, I betrayed the love we shared.

I handled everything so poorly. I turned to alcohol instead of facing the problem head-on. I let my fear and cowardice dictate my actions, and in doing so, I failed you. I failed us.

I understand that you don't want to see me, and I respect your decision. But there is one thing I need you to know: I will continue to support Oliver's education. I refuse to let him be a victim of my cowardice. I will ensure that he has the opportunities he deserves until he can make his own way in the world.

Rose, I love you with all my heart. I always have and I always will. The moments we shared were the happiest of my life, and I will cherish them forever. You are the light of my life, the reason I breathe. I am so sorry for everything.

Please know that I will love you forever, even if you never forgive me.

Yours always, Jack

Jack folded the letter carefully, sealing it with a trembling hand. He wrote Rose's name on the front, his heart aching with every stroke of the pen. He called his secretary and handed her the letter, ensuring she understood the importance of its delivery. Days followed without a single form of response. He wondered if she had even received the letter, but his secretary was certain of it.

His saddened soul now sat at the ornate dining table in his grandmother's house, pushing the food around on his plate. The grandeur of the room, with its elegant chandeliers and antique furniture, only added to the weight of his exhaustion. He didn't want to be here tonight, but his grandmother had insisted, and she was not someone to be easily dismissed.

Mrs. Dawson watched him carefully, her eyes sharp and discerning. "Jack," she began, her tone firm yet gentle, "you are full of surprises, but this is something I truly didn't see coming."

Jack sighed, feeling a wave of irritation. "Well, you'll have to get used to the idea of Miss Huntington becoming your granddaughter-in-law," he said, taking a bite of his food, though he could barely taste it.

Mrs. Dawson leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. "I am the last person on earth that you can fool. First, you come to me and tell me that you want to build a future with Rose. Then, you disappear during a time when she needs you the most, start drinking uncontrollably, and now you are engaged to another woman?"

Jack's fork clattered against his plate as he set it down. He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. "Gran, it's complicated," he said, his voice tired. "You don't understand the pressure I'm under."

"No, Jack, I understand perfectly," she retorted. "You've always under pressure in almost all areas of your life. What I don't understand is why you're letting yourself be controlled so easily. I know you care for Rose, truly care for her. So why are you throwing that away for a woman you don't love?"

Jack felt a surge of anger and despair. "I didn't have a choice," he snapped. "Ernest found out about Rose's father and used it against me. He threatened to ruin everything if I didn't agree to marry Amelia. He threatened to bring back Rose's father into her life. I thought I was protecting her."

"By turning to the bottle?"

"You don't think I feel guilty about it?!" He then buried his face into his hands, trying to hide the utter embarrassment he was feeling."

"Jack…"

"I know I messed everything up, gran. I don't know how, but when Ernest told me about how he had found out I simply panicked. Rose has told me what her father had done in the past. To her and her mother and not to forget little Oliver. The beating, the neglect, the assault. I simply kept seeing it happening. Over… and over again. And I couldn't let it happen. You see, I love her so much I cannot even express it. I thought I had made the right decision, but I haven't," Tears burned in his eyes as he continued. "I can't comprehend how angry and betrayed Rose felt when she found out. The pain in her eyes... I hate myself for this, Grandma. I handled everything horribly. I did write her a letter, explaining everything, but I doubt she has even read it."

Mrs. Dawson took his hand in his and traced it gently. The feeling of her touch somewhat managed to calm him. "I only wished you would have told me right away, Jack." She sighed, "Do you really think I would have allowed this to happen? No one, not even my other grandson, is allowed to have such power over you. To manipulate you this way."

"It's too late now, gran."

"Where is your determination and your power?" Mrs. Dawson stated firmly.

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Love has made me weak, I guess."

"You know I have lost a lover once, Jack. I was weak, I did not fight for him and now, after 70 years, I still regret it. I know you are strong, you have always been. Fight for the woman you love my dear boy and never stop. I know she loves you too, but is now simply too overwhelmed by a broken heart."

Slowly, Jack took a sip of his water, his hands and lips trembling. "You know what I'd really want to do, grandma? I wish I could go to her father, skin him alive if that's possible. Just personally make sure that he will never be able to lay a finger on her whatever might happen in the future."

Mrs. Dawson chuckled. "We are a family with enough influence, Jack."

And with those words falling from his grandmother's lips, Jack slowly felt something clear within his head. Power. The word reverberated in his thoughts like a mantra. Suddenly, a realization dawned on him. Money and power—two things he had always had at his disposal. Maybe, just maybe, he could use them now without the burden of guilt. The next morning, as the sun was slowly starting to lighten the streets of the city, Jack was sat on a train straight to Philadelphia.

When Jack arrived in the city, he checked into the hotel and wasted no time. Marching towards the most nearby phone, he tried to contact a person whom he had grown to trust deeply. Victor Jameson, private investigator he had used in the past for sensitive matters.

"Jameson, it's Jack Dawson," he said briskly when the call connected. "I need your services. There's someone I need you to find."

"Of course, Mr. Dawson."

He proceeded to give Jameson the details, emphasizing the urgency of the matter. Jameson assured him that he would get to work immediately, promising to update Jack as soon as he had any information.

It were two agonizing days in Philadelphia, the minutes stretching into hours as he waited for news from Jameson. Jack's anxiety grew with each passing moment, knowing that the clock was ticking and that Ernest could act at any time. He barely ate or slept, his thoughts consumed by Rose and the precarious situation they were in.

Jack entered the hotel lobby, weary from days of restless waiting. As he approached the front desk, he saw a familiar face—Mr. Jameson, the private investigator he had hired. The two men shook hands warmly, glad to see each other again after so long.

"Jameson, it's good to see you," Jack said, relief evident in his voice.

"Likewise, Mr. Dawson," Jameson replied with a nod. "Let's find a quiet place to talk."

They headed towards the hotel bar, which was mercifully empty at this hour. They took seats at a secluded corner table. Jameson handed Jack a folded note. It was an address.

"This is where the man apparently lives. It's one of the most horrible parts of the city," Jameson said, shaking his head. "What sort of business does a man like you have there?"

Jack stared at the note before folding it back up and putting it inside of his of his pocket. "Let's call it a matter of love."

"Miss Huntington? I did hear the news that you were engaged. I totally forgot to congratulate you."

With a saddened smile, Jack looked at the man in front of him. "Her name is Rose. The woman I am in love with. Rose Smith. But that is a story for another time. I just have to speak to her father first."

Mr. Jameson asked no further questions, but placed his hand on Jack's shoulder before leaving him in his own thoughts.

Later that day, Jack stood on the crumbling sidewalk, staring at the dilapidated building in front of him. The address on the note matched, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was in the wrong place. The area was worse than he had anticipated, with graffiti-covered walls and trash-strewn alleys. He hesitated, checking the note again, when a young girl appeared in front of him, holding a baby in her arms.

"What are you doing here, mister?" she asked, her eyes wary but curious.

Jack swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure. "I'm looking for a Mr. Smith. I was told he lives here."

The girl shrugged her shoulders. "That old drunkard? My dad said he had a fight with the neighbor and fell down the stairs. Broke his neck. That was two years ago."

Jack's eyes widened in shock. "Mr. Smith is dead?"

The girl nodded. "Yeah. No one misses him. He was mean. Always yelling and breaking things. He even hit his wife and children before they ran away."

"Yes. I know that."

The girl raised her eyebrow. "You know that?"

"It's a long story, miss. But I am very glad somehow." Jack shook his head.

"We all are. We're better off without him."

It was now that he felt a large mix of emotions—relief that Rose was no longer in danger from her father, and a pang of sadness for the girl's harsh reality. As he processed the news, the girl looked him up and down before reaching out her hand.

"My brother hasn't eaten in two days," she said, her voice matter-of-fact.

Without hesitation, Jack pulled out his wallet and handed the girl a generous amount of money. "Here, take this. Get some food for your family."

The girl's eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. "Thank you, mister."

Jack nodded, turning away quickly. He needed to catch his breath and process what he'd just learned. He walked briskly down the street, his mind racing. Mr. Smith was dead. The threat that had loomed over Rose was gone. He could hardly believe it.

Finding a quiet spot in a nearby park, Jack sat down on a bench. The news was overwhelming, and he needed a moment to think. Rose's father was no longer a threat. He had been desperate to protect her, but now it seemed his actions were based on outdated fears. He wondered if all the threats were over. In his mind, Jack's desire wondered around endlessly. He had to tell her and maybe she would forgive him. He could call off the engagement and marry the woman he truly loved. Would Ernest accept his defeat or would he find another way to try to ruin their lives. But she had to know despite the uncertainty of the future.

…

His heart pounded as he stood in front of Rose's apartment door. Each knock felt heavier than the last, and he could feel the weight of his desperation in every word as he called out her name.

"Rose, it's Jack. Please, just hear me out," he pleaded, pressing his forehead against the door. "I know you don't want to talk to me, but I have some news. I don't know if you've read my letter, but I went to look for your father. I wanted to make sure he couldn't hurt you anymore. Rose...he died two years ago."

Silence met his ears, the emptiness on the other side of the door amplifying his sense of dread. He sighed deeply, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Feeling defeated, he turned to leave. But as he shifted his body, his arm brushed against the door handle, and to his surprise, the door swung open.

Jack froze, staring into the apartment. His heart sank further as he took in the sight before him. The apartment was almost entirely empty. Only a bed in the corner and a solitary dining table remained, the rest of the space eerily vacant. The walls seemed to echo with the absence of Rose, the life that once filled the room now conspicuously missing.

"Rose?" he called out, his voice trembling as he stepped inside, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the barren space. Nothing was left that reminded the place of her.

Jack rushed up the stairs, his heart pounding as he knocked hastily on Mrs. Adams's apartment door. When the door opened, the sight of him made her eyes turn cold, and she moved to close the door on him.

"Please, Mrs. Adams," Jack pleaded, stopping the door with his hand. "Do you know where I can find Rose? Her apartment is completely empty."

Mrs. Adams bit her lip, tears filling her eyes. "I don't know," she replied, her voice trembling with sorrow. "She left without a trace a few days ago. No one has heard from her. No one. She didn't tell anyone where she went. She didn't even leave a note. She has disappeared into thin air with nothing but a broken heart."

The words cut Jack deeper than any knife. He felt his own tears welling up as Mrs. Adams continued, her voice filled with a mix of sadness and anger. "I hope you are proud of what you have done, Mr. Dawson." And with that, she closed the door in his face.

Jack stood there in stunned silence, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. All his efforts to protect Rose, all the sacrifices he made, had been for nothing. He had now truly lost her, possibly forever, and the weight of that loss was unbearable.

Slowly, he turned away from Mrs. Adams's door, his mind reeling. He felt an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. Rose had vanished, and he had no idea where to even begin looking for her. His heart ached with the knowledge that she was out there somewhere, hurt and alone, because of him.

As he descended the stairs, each step heavier than the last, he replayed their last moments together in his mind. The pain in her eyes, her words of betrayal, and the finality of her letter echoed in his thoughts. He had pushed her away to protect her, but in doing so, he had driven her into hiding.

Jack left the apartment building, the rain still pouring down, mirroring his mood. He walked aimlessly through the city streets, the sound of his footsteps drowned out by the patter of raindrops. His clothes were soon soaked, but he didn't care. The cold rain did nothing to numb the agony he felt inside.

For hours, he wandered, trying to make sense of what to do next.