And something on the other end of that connection was now very, very silent.
Maya’s heart went cold. Someone—or something—had been inside her machine for weeks. She pulled up her device manager, then her drivers list, scrolling past the usual suspects. And there it was: , unsigned, timestamp from three years ago. She didn’t install it. Her IT team didn’t either.
The cursor blinked. Then, slowly, deliberately:
pnputil /enum-drivers
There it was again. Driver package: . Provider: "Interception."
She opened PowerShell as admin. Her fingers moved fast.
C:\> whoami
Someone was watching everything she typed. Every password. Every client note. Every Slack message.