38. Sophie
38
SOPHIE
Two weeks later…
T he glow of the screen is the only light in the room, casting everything in shades of pale blue.
My fingers move on autopilot, running strings of code through a decrypting program I designed years ago. It’s not flashy, but it’s effective. Maxim says it’s a lot like me. He says it with a smile but I get the feeling his patience is wearing thin.
The file’s encryption fights back, shifting patterns like a Rubik’s Cube on steroids, but I’ve been chasing this thing for long enough. I’m starting to learn its methods. I’m not about to let it win.
It’s been two weeks since I started work on the code. The timer reminds me whenever I glance at it. Eighteen days to go. The meal with Andrei keeps being delayed, I’ve no idea if that’s good or bad but Maxim is sure it’s going to happen soon.
The final algorithm clicks into place, the screen flashes a confirmation message. A string of numbers appears, bold and triumphant.
I lean back. At last.
I have something concrete. Buried deep. Coordinates. The location where the program is running from. It’s not the answer but it’s a start. A smile tugs at my lips despite the nerves still jittering through me.
I grab a notepad and scribble the numbers down, tucking the pen behind my ear as I head to Maxim’s study.
I can already picture his stoic expression, his way of making you feel like you’ve done everything right and wrong at the same time. But screw that. This is progress, and I’m going to make sure he knows it.
His study door is slightly ajar when I get there, and I push it open without knocking. Maxim’s wiping something from his hands, something that looks a lot like blood. He glances up as I enter, his expression neutral.
“Ever heard of knocking?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I plop the notepad onto his desk, ignoring the jab. “Ever heard of saying ‘thank you’ when someone cracks part of your impossible file? I found this.”
He picks up the pad, his eyes scanning the numbers. For a moment, there’s no reaction—no flicker of emotion, no sign of whether this means anything to him. Then he leans back, tossing the pad onto the desk.
“Coordinates. For what?”
I roll my eyes, leaning against the desk. “You could at least pretend to be impressed. That took me hours.”
“I never doubted you’d crack the code,” he replies, his tone maddeningly calm.
“Okay, great,” I say, throwing my hands up. “But you could show a little enthusiasm. I mean, I just handed you the first real lead in days. Maybe say, ‘Good job, Sophie,’ or, I don’t know, smile?”
He smirks faintly, setting the glass down. “Do I strike you as the smiling type?”
“Not even a little,” I shoot back. “But you could try. Just once. For morale.”
His gaze sharpens slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I wasn’t aware you needed more than a financial incentive to work for me.”
I glare at him, the tension between us crackling like static. “Well, lucky me. Guess I’ll just have to keep doing it without your approval.”
He studies me for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he picks up the notepad again, flipping it over in his hand. “You did well,” he says finally, his voice quieter now.
The admission is so soft I don’t believe it. But it’s there, and for a second, I think I see something in his eyes—something raw, unguarded. It’s gone in a blink, replaced by the usual steel.
“Was that so hard?” I ask, though my tone is lighter now.
“Don’t push it,” he says, leaning back in his chair.
I smirk, heading for the door. “Well, this has been fun. Let me know when you’re ready to share what those coordinates mean.”
As I reach the doorway, he speaks again, his voice stopping me in my tracks. “Sophie.”
I glance back, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
His gaze is steady, his expression unreadable. “You look pale. Get some rest.”
I frown. “I have been feeling nauseous but I’ve been starting at the screen for the last six hours.”
“Now’s a good time to take a break. I’ll have a bath run for you.”
“Won’t all the water splash out?”
He laughs, the sound genuine for once. “Good one.”