MIA POV
She doesn't sleep.
She lies on her back in the dark and she holds the folder against her chest and she stares at the ceiling and she turns the letter over and over like a coin she keeps hoping will land differently.
M.
She has made lists in her head every night since she arrived here. Guard schedules. Camera rotations. Door sounds. Staff names. Exit distances. It is how she falls asleep organising information until her brain runs out of things to sort and shuts itself off from sheer exhaustion.
Tonight the list has one item.
M.
She runs every name in the house through it. Elena possible, she already thought it, she already took it apart. Elena moves documents. Elena has access. Elena left the folder. But Elena is not the one who created it, who pulled those files, who knew what to redact and what to leave visible. Elena is a hand. Someone else is the arm.
