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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘

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When Cora walked into her living room the next morning, she found Roman Roy sitting at her piano.

She let out a startled crying, knocking the towel bundled around her hair down to her shoulders. He was unfazed by her surprise. "Sleep well? Dream of me?"

"Good morning to you too." She muttered, grabbing the towel and laying it against the back of a nearby bar stool. She turned back to him, combing a hand through her still damp hair. "I don't think I dreamed about anything to be honest, that was the best I've slept in weeks."

It was true, she'd been out like a light. It was rare for her to get a full night, lately she'd barely been able to manage four hours. It was 9am, she'd messaged ahead to the office that she'd been in around lunchtime, but it seemed like she wouldn't be the only one to come in late.

"How do you feel?" Roman asked.

"Like my head is a steel drum and there's a little monkey with an armful of rocks sprinting around it." She admitted, massaging her temple.

"And it's dropping the rocks I'm assuming?"

"Yeah, that'd be right."

"Well I'd offer you something to eat but I went through your cupboards and all I found was boxes of tea, which was weird because frankly I don't think I've ever seen you drink tea." Roman mused. "Your fridge wasn't much better. I tossed what was in it, by the way, so you're welcome. Do you just buy food to let it go bad?"

"Maybe." Cora replied, feeling a little defensive. "I mean it's not like I've been home very much."

"Have you ever?" He said as he glanced around the living room. From the bare walls, the singular couch and the dying houseplant in the corner, the room was undoubtedly stark. "It's very ... Bateman in here. If I saw the place without knowing you, I'd be making all kinds of assumptions about the post-modernist psycho who lives here."

"Did you hang around just to insult me?" She rolled her eyes. "Wait, don't bother answer-"

"I actually did, yeah, thanks for asking." He grinned, his gaze softening as he turned back towards her. "How much do you remember from last night?"

Cora blushed, the answer was not all that much. She had replayed the broad strokes of the evening in the shower: the argument with Shiv, their subsequent makeup, the dancing, the back of the taxi. She remembered the feelings, or at least felt the echo of them. "I think I must have had fun." She replied after some thought. "And I can only assume that ... "

"That I was a gentleman?"

"Sure, if that's how you'd like to put it."

"Of course I was, Cordelia, who do you think you're talking to?" He chuckled softly, turning his attention to the piano in front of him. Like a child who should know better, he jabbed a finger against one of the keys. The note rang discordantly, bouncing off of the walls. Cora tensed, she'd almost expected the piano to make no sound, so long had it gone untouched. He grinned up at her, beginning to pluck messily at the keys. "There's a reason they never let me near one of these."

"You don't say." She replied, cringing at the uneven playing.

"You've never played for me." He said pointedly. "Kind of rude of you."

"Is this your way of convincing me I should?"

"Yes."

Rolling her eyes, she shooed him to the side of the piano stool where he perched precariously on the edge, looking over his shoulder as she slid into the middle. She considered playing something generic just to appease him, but as she looked down at the keys to collect herself, she felt something ancient stir in her chest.

Her heart began to race in her chest, jitters of adrenaline buzzing through her core. She found herself grateful for Roman's sudden silence as she lightly touched the ivory, not yet eliciting sound but feeling the surface beneath the pads of her fingers. Tentatively she sunk one note, piano rumbling back at her. Inside of her the note echoed back, like a stone hitting the sides of an empty well.

"You don't have to play if you don't want to." Roman's voice was distant to her as she stared at her own finger. She became aware that she had been sitting there motionless for some time.

"No it's ok." She replied softly. "I think I want to."

The notes were slow at first, her fingers cumbersome as they impressed themselves on the instrument. She felt herself consumed with the unsteady dread of feeling one's way around in the darkness, but soon a tentative flicker of light appeared, muscle memory taking over as she found the rhythm.

She was no longer in the room with him but in the walls of the impossibly big estate she had grown up in, with its high ceilings and antique furniture she'd been forbade from touching. The air was always cold back then and smelled of Chanel No 5 and tobacco.

Her mother only ever smoked in the drawing room. The piano stool had a cushion the colour of lapis lazuli and it groaned as she lowered herself down. Cora's hair was pulled in a fishtail braid that tugged at her temples, fashioned by her nanny who had a thick German accent and the laugh of a sailor, loud and grainy just like her hands.

Reagan's shadows fell over her shoulder. She still sported her dead husband's name then and she never let Cora forget it. Cora's collar was tense and starchy, the cuffs of her sleeves impressed on her skin. As she began to play, it was not the sound of the piano that she elicited but a symphony of her mother's clipped sighs.

When she was finished, the music faded but the shame did not. Cora had felt drained before, but now she was nothing. Beside her Roman had angled his body back towards her.

"You never wanted to play on ours when you visited. I always assumed it was because you were making up that you took lessons. Criminal to hide that you were actually good at it." He said, hesitation on his breath.

"I only ever played for my tutor and my mom. She liked Billy Joel." But not when I played it, she thought to herself.

Cora could feel her throat closing, a single tear welling in her right eye. Vainly she hoped that if she simply remained still, the tear would evaporate or else go unnoticed, but moments later it cut down the centre of her cheek. Before she could turn away, Roman had wiped it away, his fingers resting in its place.

"Look at me." She shivered at the sound of his voice. Cora wanted nothing more than to hide away inside of herself, but she could tell by his tone that he wouldn't let her. Slowly their eyes met. "I understand."

Her breathing hitched and she leaned forward to kiss him. He allowed her it, hand moving to her knee, his thumb stroking against the fabric of her pants. She couldn't deny the desperation that flooded her system then, threatening to take her breath away.

Pleasure was something she had always needed distance from, the closer her proximity to it, the more she drew away. Sometimes it was like watching her own body from the other side of the room. She needed a glass pane, to stand behind it or else to have it shattered. Sensuality made her uncomfortable, she needed the adrenaline of fear or pain to centre herself. The feeling Roman evoked in her was monstrous in its unfamiliarity, growing the more she tasted his breath on her tongue, unfurling in the pit of her stomach.

"I want you." She whispered against his lips, hands falling to his belt. "Please."

He looked at her hands and she could hear the tremor in the back of his throat. Further than that, she could see him weighing the options. She waited patiently, hoping her compliance would mean something to him. That was what he wanted, right? For her to listen. His eyes swept her, swallowing visibly.

"Do you really?"

"Please." She hoped he could see her desperation and spare her some pity. He made a small sound of frustration. Roman closed his eyes.

"Do you know how difficult it is for me when you get like this?" His voice was strained though not unkind. Despite his words, she couldn't help feeling somewhat victorious. He had acted so impervious to her the previous day, it had made her feel like she was smashing her head against a brick wall.

"Somewhat, I'd hope." She admitted.

"Do you like that?" He asked. "Do you like that I'm suffering?"

"Not the suffering. I like that you care."

Roman took a measured breath. He cupped the side of her face with his hand, his thumb brushing her bottom lip. Lust gripped her, mouth parting like a flower to take the digit between her lips. He tried to speak but the words died in his throat as her tongue brushed against the pad of his thumb, his face slackening as he let out a hollow groan.

"You are ... The literal spawn of Satan." He muttered. She loosened her grip on him to smirk.

"Thank you, I guess."

His lips met hers again, pressing with urgency. Cora took it as an invitation, her hands falling back to his belt, fumbling with unsteady hands. Her heart hammered against her chest as he pulled away, stubble grazing against her as he trailed kissed across the line of her jaw. Cora loosened his belt, leather sliding through the fabric loops of his pants to snake into her hand. His breath was in her ear, hands buried in her hair.

"Can I ask you something?" He whispered into her ear. Softly she giggled.

"Is now really the time for questions?"

"It's the perfect time for questions."

"Yes, you can."

"Did you keep the mixtape?"

Cora was caught off guard, nodding hesitantly. She forced out a breathy laugh. "Yeah ... I keep it in the right bedside drawer. I guess ... I couldn't bring myself to let it go."

He made a noise of approval, his kissing the nape of her neck. A shiver run up her spine.

"Do you wish you had stayed?"

Cora grew very still, her chest tensing. It was what she had feared he would ask her on the yacht, what she sometimes saw on the tip of his tongue.

"Mm, yes." She said quickly, hoping he couldn't hear the strain in her voice.

"Do you need me?" He pressed. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, nerves bucking. She let the belt slip from her hands, the metal prong clattering against the floor. "Tell me you need me."

Her throat constricted. "I need you to slap me."

He pushed away from her like she'd suddenly caught fire, standing suddenly. Cora felt her stomach drop. Roman turned away from her, rubbing the back of his neck. She heard him curse beneath his breath, his arms taut.

"Okay. Okay. So we're not doing that." He said finally, his body turned away from her. The icy cold flood of shame washed over her.

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean that, I-I'm ... I don't know why I said that." She tried to inject some laughter into her words but the end result sounded more like she'd run a marathon. "Can we just forget that I-"

"Yeah not really. Not really I think." He had turned back to her, his forehead creased. She could tell by the look in his eye that anything she said would be futile. "I'm ... Look, until you sort your shit out, we can't do this. I can't do this. You're asking me to ignore a car crashing that's happening in front of me and it's getting offensive how much you expect me to just ... Pretend like that isn't happening."

"Wh-why not?" She spluttered incredulously.

"Be- That's a stupid question. That's a ... " He sighed heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. "I shouldn't have to say why. I've made it obvious, Cordelia. There's nothing standing in the way of us anymore. No Shiv. No questions about how either of us feel. We aren't kids anymore. So ... So I don't understand why you're acting like this."

Silence fell. She couldn't meet his glare. Didn't he understand? How could he see her so clearly and yet not see the obvious? She was not a full person, never had been, never could be. She lived in a perpetual state of deficit, a void in her stomach, swallowing whatever she could to fill the unfillable.

"You want something from me that I ... I cannot give you. I can't be this person you want me to be." She said finally, the pain of her own words stabbing her core. Cora let out a ragged breath. "So you can either learn to accept that or ... "

She heard him exhale sharply, almost a cough. "I'll see you at Kendall's party on the weekend. I ... I gotta ... Gotta go yell at some underprivileged teens or, I don't know, fucking whatever."

He picked up his belt and left. Cora remained frozen as she was, her nails digging into her thighs. She tried for a while to ride the waves of guilt but soon it became too much. She stood shakily, like a new born deer, legs threatening to fail beneath her.

Unsteadily she crossed to the kitchen, stooping down to the cupboard beneath her sink and reaching to the very back. She'd learned her lesson, squirreling away her stash lest she be faced with the threat of guests. A bottle of Jack Daniels and a small wooden box. She pulled out both and placed them on the counter, her actions rote as she fetched a plate to disperse the powder onto.

One line, two lines, three.

She washed her feelings down with room temperature whiskey straight from the bottle, fire on her breath, her nose stinging but not nearly as much as her heart did. Cora grabbed the whiskey by the neck, pacing to the couch and let herself collapse against the cushions. She stared at the ceiling as she let the pain fade into nothingness.

This was who she was, who she could only ever hope to be. The sooner he accepted that, the better.

________

Across town, Kendall Roy thumbed his phone screen, his cheeks burning.

Overnight several things had happened. The first was that the FBI had raided the Waystar offices, a victory that had been short-lived. He'd awoken to a text message from Arthur, asking to meet urgently, which had set off a flurry of alarm bells until he opened his news feed.

Now he was staring at the reason for the meeting, or at least the safest presumption. The photos were imperfect, taken from some distance and blurred by light and movement, but Kendall would have known the two figures from a mile away. His free hand tapped incessantly against the hard surface of the bar, jaw clenching reflexively.

"Hey man." Arthur said as he came to rest in the seat beside him. Kendall barely acknowledged the other man, nor his assistant Mack, who took the space beside her superior, a trademark glower resting on her face.

Kendall did not like Arthur, and he had good reason to believe the feeling was mutual.

He hadn't known the man's modus operandi when he'd hired him, the adrenaline of that night had made him favour snap decisions as he'd ridden the high of putting his foot down. Now he wished he'd thought it through for a moment longer. Arthur had been upfront about his relationship to Cora, but it had felt like a footnote, a detail that didn't need to be unpacked. That had been before Kendall had found out about his father's decision to name Cora as interim CEO. He'd decided to keep the man around despite the obvious disdain he held towards Kendall, seeing him as an invaluable asset for the course that lay ahead.

Now he was convinced it was the opposite. When he'd sobered up to the reality of the situation, it became obvious to him that stoking the antagonism with Cora had been the wrong decision. He'd replayed the memory of their last words on the yacht to the point of madness. She hadn't wanted to deliver the blow, he had seen it written all over her face. There was something he was missing. Why admit to him the truth of how she had felt if she had truly turned to the dark side, if she had really meant to side with his father?

But the opportunity for repair had been lost the moment she had seen Arthur in Rava's apartment, and Kendall was now painfully aware that his PR manager was poison in more ways than one. The man was arrogant, stubborn and constantly undermining his authority. He'd made his distaste for Kendall brazen, second only to the obvious hostility he harboured for Roman. While Kendall couldn't claim to have a good relationship with his brother at that moment, he detested the arrogance of the man to think nothing of bad mouthing his sibling.

There was an undercurrent, that much was obvious. With neither Roman nor Shiv open to discussions on the past, he'd been forced to turn to Naomi. Her discomfort at the line of questioning had gone ignored, Kendall was hardly tactful on his best days. Eventually he'd gotten a story out of her at least gave him some context.

"Gosh, Ken, I don't know. It was so long ago, and I really didn't know her like that. I just know he didn't like Roman all that much. I think he was meant to be Shiv's friend too but I always got the impression he was a little scared of her."

"You had to have seen something, Nay."

"I mean ... there was this one incident, I think at her birthday? Roman totally freaked out on me and dumped a drink on my head. I only found out after that it was because Shiv got jealous that I was palling around with Cora and made up some bullshit rumour about Arthur and I. And then ... "

"And then what?" Kendall pressed.

"We-" Naomi stopped short, discomfort passing over her feature. Quickly she regained her poise, her tone masked in indifference. "There were just rumours about them. Apparently someone saw him grab her a couple times at a party. Like ... Geez, pretty hard. It was a bit of an open secret that he wouldn't let her speak to other guys, for any reason really. I assumed the whole reason she stopped hanging around your family was because he didn't want her being friends with your brother."

"Wh- And no one did anything? No one thought to mention this to a trusted adult?"

Naomi blinked at him, laughing. "We were kids, Ken. That's not how things work."

That's not how things work. The words impressed themselves on him as he finally met Arthur's eye. The man cocked an eyebrow and Kendall realised he had asked something. Stowing his phone away, he flagged down the bartender.

"Uh, what was that?"

"The photo. Did you see it?" Arthur glanced to the bartender, narrowing his eyes. "Bit early, isn't it?"

Kendall ignored him. "Uh, Bacardi and coke." He glanced towards Mack. The girl had her phone out and was scrolling through Tiktok, a pair of headphones covering her ears. She met his eye, nudging them out of the way. "You want anything?"

Her full lips were set in a hard line. It was always hard to get a read on her, there was something about the way she held herself that evoked an instinctual fear in Kendall. Youth, he supposed. Mack turned to the bartender, a South London accent curling from her lips. "I'll have a Patrón."

"Good taste." Kendall commented. Mack ignored him.

"So, the photo." Arthur pressed as the bartender began to prepare the drinks. Kendall stopped himself short of sighing. "I was thinking we get it in circulation. Start pushing the angle of Waystar's CEO being 'out of control'."

"She and I agreed to no more dirt in the press." Kendall's voice was clipped. He saw Arthur's brow harden, his dark eyes glinting.

"I wouldn't negotiate with a terrorist."

The bartender pushed the glass of rum and coke towards Kendall as he pulled out his platinum from his wallet. Kendall took a sip, trying to remain measured. "The feds are swarming my dad as we speak. Good chance this dies without needing to get in the mud. Gotta focus our energy on the debate if anything, smoothing out the talking points."

Arthur's jaw clenched. "This isn't going to be that easy. Need I remind you what the lawyers said?"

Kendall felt a stab in the gut, taking another swig from his glass. He regretted allowing the man to have become so enmeshed in his campaign, but Arthur had an uncanny ability to worm his way into whatever conversations he could.

"Like I said," he replied. "The debate, man. We pin them in the debate."

Arthur sighed heavily, cracking his knuckles. He glanced towards Mack, who was back on her phone. He reached over and plucked it from her hands, ignoring her sounds of protest as he typed Cora's name into the search bar, presenting the contents of the feed to Kendall.

"You say that, but look. I mean, even if we were going to the press, there's a growing number of people on social media who are going to bat for her. This isn't the same landscape, and Sophie's audience skews overwhelming young." He said as he scrolled. "Like it or not, these people matter. Right now you still represent your dad, and she ... I don't even know what she represents."

"Old money, stealth wealth." Mack muttered, drawing Kendall's attention. "It's battle of the nepo babies and, like, she's kind of winning. I mean, she's an it girl and you're everything shit about this country. Kind of a cake walk for her right now."

"Watch it." Arthur said sharply.

"Right, take my phone and then tell me to watch it. Real clever."

Kendall frowned, looking from her back to the phone. It was video after video, some from her public appearances from the last few days and others that appeared to be montages of old photos of her. One video appeared to cover her known history with the Roys, another was a compilation of different outfits she'd worn. He stopped on the one video that didn't feature her, instead showing a young woman as she filmed herself in the mirror of an elevator.

Without thinking, Kendall clicked on it. Mack took off her headphones and the girl's chirpy voice suddenly filtered through the phone speakers, her speech whip sharp.

"Get ready with me for my first day as the personal assistant to the new CEO of Waystar Royco!"

"Who is this?" Kendall muttered, frowning. "Why do I recognize her?"

Arthur shrugged. Beside him, Mack snorted under her breath. "Her name's Olivia Carlisle. She's Cora's PA. It's her whole personality right now."

"Do you know her?" He asked, handing back the phone. Mack shrugged.

"Of her."

"What can you tell me about her? You got an in? Can we get her to stop posting these videos? I don't even know how she got clearance to do this." He waved a hand at the screen, where Olivia had continued to film the inside of the building.

Mack gave him a strange look.

"I know her." Arthur interjected, unable to disguise his impatience any longer. He was clearly unimpressed with the direction of the conversation. Kendall finished off his drink, finally turning back to the man.

"Ok, so ... What can you tell me? Can we work an angle here? I just think it's a bit fucked having someone running around Waystar with their phone out. Really spits in the face of the whole operation. I can't believe my father is allowing this."

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I might have a way to fix this entire situation." Arthur said, unable to disguise a smirk. Kendall felt his interest piquing. "Have you ever heard of the senator Ethan Carlisle?"