You type it out. *Thanks, Isabella.* Friendly. Human. The kind of sign-off that makes the recipient feel seen rather than processed. You hit send. Marc reads the email standing up, the way he reads anything that arrives from Isabella: fast, ready to comply. He gets to the last line and stops. *Thanks.* Isabella has never thanked him. Not once. He spent the first year waiting for it. He made peace with it in the second year. By the third, he had rebuilt his entire understanding of professional validation around the fact that she would never say it, that her silence was the approval, her *Proceed* the only warmth available. *Thanks* does not fit the shape of the person who signs his exception requests. *Thanks* is what someone from the outside would write, imagining a version of Isabella that does not exist. He does not call IT. He calls Isabella directly. > **Marc**: *"Did you just send me a compliance portal link? The sign-off looked…"* He trails off, choosing his words. *"Different."* On the other side of the city, Isabella opens her sent items. Finds nothing. Your window is closing in real time. --- > **Dane**: *"Abort. Abort right now. Wipe the staging account. Marc called her."* Soon, your victims will know they have been targeted. Everything is compromised: destroy all evidence before you get caught! [[Burn The Operation|Burn the operation]]