28. Sophie
28
SOPHIE
Two days later…
T he countdown timer blinks in the corner, its relentless march forward mocking me. Twenty-six days, ten hours, twenty-three minutes.
I stare at the encryption layers, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. The work Evan has done is frustratingly good. Too good for his skill set.
He didn’t do it alone. That’s for sure. Every move I make feels like tripping another alarm in some labyrinthine trap. It’s like someone’s watching me work, laying traps when they see what direction I’m moving in.
I need help.
I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts, my finger hesitating over a familiar name: Dr. Meredith Park. If anyone can help me crack this thing, it’s her.
The line rings twice before she picks up, her no-nonsense voice cutting through the silence. “Sophie? How’s my favorite student?”
“Hi, Dr. Park,” I say, sitting back in my chair. “I bet you say that to all your graduates.”
“Yeah, but I mean it with you. Brighter than anyone I’ve ever taught.”
“Pushing for donations to your retirement fund, is that it?”
She laughs. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve hit a wall on a project, and I could really use your insight.”
“What kind of project?”
“It’s complicated,” I admit. “High-level encryption, constantly shifting parameters. I’m dealing with layers of security that feel sentient.” I give her a couple of details. “What can I do to stop it shifting as I work?” I say when I’m done explaining.
“Shifting?” she repeats, her tone sharp with curiosity. “Have you thought that someone might be interfering with your work. Have you checked for access points to your set up?”
The words hit me like a brick. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because it’s rare to find it done well,” she says. “If the parameters keep shifting that way, it means you’re dealing with someone who doesn’t want you to succeed.”
My stomach twists as I process her words. The idea shouldn’t surprise me—after all, I’m living in a house full of criminals. But the thought that someone within Maxim’s circle is working against him… that’s dangerous. Not just for me, but for everyone.
“Any advice on how to approach it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Get ahead of them,” she says. “Isolate the source of the interference, then you’ll have an edge. Could trace it back to the originating IP if they’re sloppy. But Sophie, if you’re in a position where this kind of sabotage is happening, what are you really working on? This isn’t some run of the mill stuff, is it? Is this legal?”
The door opens and Maxim is standing there. “I better go,” I say into the cellphone before turning to face him.
He strolls in, a huge bag slung over his shoulder. He dumps it on the chair next to me and nods. “Your package arrived.”
“Package?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
He gestures toward the bag, his expression unreadable. “Open it.”
Curiosity gets the better of me. I stand, pulling the bag closer and unzipping it. Inside, there’s a sleek new laptop, still in its packaging, and several high-end gadgets—tablets, external drives, even a smartwatch.
Beneath them are neatly folded designer clothes, tags still attached.
“What is this?” I ask, holding up one of the devices. “Are we raiding stores now?”
“They’re tools,” Maxim says simply. “The laptop is faster than the antique you’re using, and the clothes are more appropriate for your new role.”
“My role?” I ask, setting the tablet down with a little more force than necessary. “You mean acting as your loving wife?”
“That was no act last night.” He fixes his gaze on me, cool and assessing. “Your current wardrobe doesn’t exactly scream my wife credibility, Sophie. And your laptop isn’t equipped to handle the encryption layers you’re working on.”
I cross my arms, staring him down. “First of all, my laptop works just fine. I’ve boosted it more than you might think. Second, I don’t need your charity.”
“It’s not charity,” he replies, his tone calm but firm. “It’s practicality.”
“And yet, here I am, managing just fine without your ‘practicality.’”
“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be. Accept the gift.”
“No,” I say, pushing the bag aside. “You’re making this more complicated by assuming I’ll fall in line because you throw money at a problem.”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think I’ve pushed too far. But then his lips curve into a faint, infuriating smirk. “You really don’t care, do you?”
“About what?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“The money. The things,” he says, gesturing toward the bag. “Most people would jump at the chance to have all this. You act like it’s an inconvenience.”
“Maybe because it is,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “I don’t need shiny toys to do my job, Maxim. What I need is space and time. Now the clock’s ticking so please let me work.”
He glances at his watch. “Until five, then you stop and eat. That’s an order.”