Page 60 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

I’ll have to amend my algorithm accordingly, which means another month of data input before I’m able to extract realistic scenarios for my thesis.

“I’m glad we were finally able to do this,” I say, struggling to smile. “When I heard about what happened to you, with the kidnapping and all—”

“Oh, terrible thing, I know. But I’m bouncing back. How’s your dad? I haven’t spoken to him in a few days now.”

“Busy with his campaign. I reckon you talk to him more than I do, actually.”

“He’s going to be president someday. You know that, right?”

God, I hope not. I hope the truth comes out. I hope there is some justice left in this world, because I don’t want this baby to be part of a future where the evil hide in plain sight, corrupting innocent souls purely for the love of money and influence. It sickens me to even think about it.

Instead of an answer, I change the subject. “Have you had a chance to look over the preparatory emails I sent by any chance?”

“Yes, I did. I’m ready. Hit me,” he laughs, then runs a hand through his hair, fine lines sharpening at the corners of his tired eyes. “I’m eager to answer and help you put together one hell of a doctorate thesis. Assuming, of course, that you will give me a chance to test that algorithm of yours when it gets to the next stage of research.”

“It would be my pleasure.” I lie. If he’s not rotting in a jail cell by then.

He smiles and nods delightedly. “When do you think you’ll be ready for the first round of trials?”

“Hopefully, next year, if I get my desk at University of Chicago. Their research department is at the forefront of this—”

“You won’t have to worry about that. I’ll make a few calls—” he tries to cut me off.

“Jack, please don’t,” I politely stop him. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told my father, I’d rather get there on my own. On proper merit. It’s the right way, especially for an algorithm that may reshape the future altogether. I need to make sure I’m worthy of it, if that makes sense.”

Jack pauses for a moment, tilting his head slightly as he carefully analyzes my expression. “I must admit Lyric, I am genuinely impressed by you already.”

“How so?”

“Well, you’re a beautiful young woman, first and foremost.”

“Thank you.”

“You are obviously brilliant. Your IQ and Mensa membership speak volumes on the matter. Your father speaks highly of you, despite what he described as a complicated father-daughter relationship in the absence of your mother.”

He’s going for the feels now. Hitting me where he knows it might sting a little. Luckily, I saw this coming. I spent the past few days running different scenarios through the algorithm regarding this meeting and its potential outcomes, just to practice a few more volatile parameters. I wonder how many of the results I got will turn out to be accurate.

I nod slowly. “Yes, well, politics and I never got along.”

“Nor should you,” Jack says. “Unlike your father, I think you need to remain non-partisan. You’re a scientist, Lyric. I don’t believe you belong anywhere near politics. The same can be said about your algorithm, despite what Matthew says.”

“I’m surprised you think that way.”

“Well, I’ve met my fair share of politicians, and while I love and support your father, your technology is crucial in other aspects of life. It shouldn’t serve as a tool for congressmen and senators to win elections and get more donations for future campaigns. The whole political machine is precisely that, a never-ending cycle of pumping money into advertising. Matthew can handle himself fine, he doesn’t need your algorithm.”

I give him a wry smile. “I’m pleased to see how much faith you have in him.” I’m getting better at lying.

“And I have just as much faith in you, Lyric. Which is why I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad that we’re able to have this conversation, and most importantly, I’m glad you ended it with the Sokolov’s. They were a terrible influence on you.”

The words whizz past me and I barely register them.

Yet when I do, my entire world comes crashing down around me. I freeze in my seat, staring at Bowman in disbelief. I shouldn’t be shocked. Of course he knows about my involvement with the Sokolov’s. He’s the head of the snake that Max, Ivan, and Artur have been working so hard to cut off. Smith is his henchman. My own father is his crony.

Bowman most likely knows about me and my connection to the Sokolov’s because I posted Ivan’s bail. Once I did that, I was fair game for these monsters.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he tries to reassure me, though I can tell he is subtly pleased by my reaction. “I understand. Some men can be charming. They can entice you and use you as they see fit,” he says. “But I’m glad your wisdom prevailed and you ended it.”

“I’m not sure what it is you think I ended with them, though.”

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