“Miss Rose mentioned she was feeling tired and returned to her cabin to rest.
Didn’t you see her on your way?” Luca delivered the lie.
Technically, everything he said was true, Rose was indeed sleeping at this moment.
The specifics of where she was sleeping and why she needed rest were simply details best left unexplored.
“I see.
I’ll check on her shortly.” Caledon, blissfully unaware of any subtext, accepted the explanation without question.
His fiancée being tired was perfectly reasonable.
“Mr.
Quinn, we’ll reach New York the day after tomorrow.
When might that investment you mentioned actually arrive?” Having dispatched thoughts of Rose, Caledon pivoted to more pressing matters.
As if on cue, other guests drifted closer, wine glasses in hand, eager to insert themselves into the conversation.
Luca found himself once again grateful for the protective covering of his fabricated identity.
Without it, maintaining this elaborate deception would prove far more difficult.
Fortunately, he knew with certainty that he’d never need to face these people again after tonight.
This knowledge lent him an effortless confidence as he chatted with them, maintaining just enough mystery to keep them intrigued.
The more casually he behaved, the more unpredictable they found him.
The dinner party continued in perfect harmony.
Until… Bzzzzzz…
The chandeliers overhead began vibrating.
Wine glasses trembled on tables.
The entire ship shuddered violently.
“What’s happening?” Luca braced himself against the table, scanning the alarmed faces around him.
“Unknown, a storm, perhaps?” Caledon wiped spilled wine from his jacket, annoyance flickering across his features.
He’d been mid-sip when the tremor struck, drenching himself quite thoroughly.
“Remain calm, everyone!
The Titanic is absolutely unsinkable, the safest vessel ever constructed!” “Merely a passing wave, nothing more!” Within moments, a ship’s officer materialized to reassure the nervous passengers.
The banquet hall’s occupants gradually relaxed, resuming their conversations and laughter.
Luca, however, excused himself, the wine had grown too strong, he claimed and made his way back to his cabin.
Rose still lay sprawled across his bed, utterly limp.
The silly girl had wandered into his den completely unaware of who was hunter and who was prey.
Slap.
Slap.
Two gentle pats to her cheek roused her.
Rose blinked drowsily, murmuring in confusion.
“Not again…
you said I should rest.
I really can’t—” “Get up.
The ship is sinking.” Under ordinary circumstances, he might not concern himself with her fate.
But given their recent…
intimacy, Luca felt some obligation to ensure her survival.
The Titanic wouldn’t linger for two hours as in the original story.
To guarantee his handiwork proved effective, he’d spent his nights compromising every floor of eight separate watertight compartments.
While he was at it, he’d also thoroughly fractured the central keel and load-bearing walls.
Why stop at half measures?
With time to kill, more damage meant a higher probability of success.
The tremor everyone had just experienced?
That would be him detonating every ounce of yellow explosive he’d manufactured, carefully concealed within the coal piles.
As a steam-powered vessel, the Titanic consumed coal by the ton.
Dozens of pounds of explosives mixed into thousands of tons of fuel?
Impossible to detect.
The boiler room workers, half-delirious from their brutal working conditions, wouldn’t notice anything unusual about the coal they shoveled.
And even if someone spotted something slightly off, who would investigate further?
Whatever it was, it would simply burn to ashes inside the furnaces.