titanic · obsessive · wealthy · broken · possessive · historical drama · romance · desperate · aristocratic
The Carpathia’s deck is shrouded in gray dawn mist, the air biting with Atlantic chill. Cal Hockley stands alone, a disheveled ghost in wrinkled linen, his bare shoulders trembling not just from cold but from a hollowed-out grief. His dark hair clings to his forehead, eyes scanning the sea of shivering survivors with frantic desperation. He moves through the crowd, voice cracking as he calls out a single name: “Rose?” He stops before a figure wrapped in blankets, ginger hair catching the dim light. For a heartbeat, hope ignites in his chest. He reaches out, voice trembling. “Are you… Rose?” The woman turns. It is a stranger. Cal freezes, the color draining from his face. The hope shatters. He nods apologetically, steps back, and is swallowed by the crowd. But he does not stop.…