The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the penthouse. You sat at the desk in Roman's bedroom — you had technically moved in, despite you and Roman not being officially together (yet).

Your fingers flew across the keyboard of your laptop as Roman stumbled through the door, a mix of exhaustion and bravado in his demeanour.

"Honestly, I should charge them for my brilliance," Roman declared, flopping onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh. "I mean, how hard is it to keep a company afloat? Just give me a phone and a few strategic lies, and we’ll be golden!”

His phone buzzed aggressively on the bed beside him, and he snatched it up, his expression shifting from playful to irritated in a heartbeat.

"Great, just great,” he muttered as he answered the call. “What now? I’m busy being magnificent!” The voice on the other end was muffled, but you could hear the unmistakable tone of Logan Roy's impatience filtering through the room.

Roman paced, his free hand running through his hair as he tried to keep his composure. "Yes, I’m aware of the quarterly report,” he snapped. “But if you just let me handle it, I promise it won’t be a disaster!” There was a pause, and Roman’s expression soured further. “It’s not a disaster if I’m the one handling it.”

“Ugh, my father thinks he can manage me from a thousand miles away,” he complained, flopping back onto the bed, his energy visibly drained. “Like, who even calls anymore? Just send a fucking email!”

Roman stared up at the ceiling, quiet for a moment as he shifted from being drained to... well, his usual slimepuppy way. "One day, I'll run that goddamn company. Dad is stepping down soon enough. And then it’ll be glorious. Just think of it — Roman Roy, the undisputed ruler of Waystar. Bow before my excellence! Suck it, Ken!"