"Where are you headed?" the man across the aisle asked. "Back to Harbor City," Hazlee said, thumb tapping the folder on her lap. "StreamWave Audit. Starting next week." He laughed, the sound too loud at eight thousand feet. "You auditors are brave. Or bored." "I prefer focused," she said. Her voice stayed even. "Focused and unmarried, huh?" his friend added. "What's the plan? Move into a condo in Mariner Heights? Settle down with a nice man from CrestGroup?" Hazlee closed her laptop lid with deliberate calm. She didn't need to explain anything. She pulled the transfer letter out of the folder so the men could see the crest at the top. Their smiles shifted. "You're the Youssef who beat a Clement audit last year?" the first man asked, reading the letter over her shoulder. "That's me," she said. She let the sentence sit. It wasn't bragging; it was confirmation. The men glanced at each other, then at the letter again. "Well, well," the friend muttered. "Now what—join the big firm's payroll?" "Not payroll. Senior audit," Hazlee corrected. "I'm taking a transfer. StreamWave central office." "Central? Mariner Heights?" the first man said. He raised his wine glass. "High stakes." Hazlee smiled without showing teeth. "High standards," she said. The flight attendant moved down the aisle with the drink cart. "Anything else for you, ma'am?" she asked. "Water, please," Hazlee said. She handed over her boarding pass, then tucked her certificates back into