Isabella’s POV

I know exactly how quiet the right kind of corruption sounds: a careful footstep in an empty hallway, the soft click of a mouse, and a voice so ordinary it slides beneath suspicion. It is not fireworks or dramatics that topple empires. It is the small, almost polite betrayals, the tiny concessions given for cash or a promise, the casual willingness to look the other way in exchange for a future that finally feels possible. So we begin with smallness, with people who imagine ...