Greetings from Washington, where I’m feeling a bit nostalgic about covering Ted Cruz’s win in the Iowa caucuses eight years ago. All us embeds thought we were maybe, just maybe, covering the next president of the United States…

That was quaint! But this cycle might be quaint, too. As I report below, Trump is beginning to turn the screws on all the donors who have flirted with his rivals this cycle. The message from Trump’s brass to the Republican financial establishment: Get on board with their campaign by next month, or forever hold your peace. Lots of inside details on that below…

But first….

• A Lurie Money Bomb: Believe in SF, the de facto super PAC behind San Francisco mayoral challenger Daniel Lurie, has raised $3.25 million to bolster his bid against incumbent London Breed, according to a note that went out to donors on Friday that I saw. That cash came “from more than 60 donors, a diverse group that includes important and respected SF leaders.” (I wonder how much came from his mom, an heiress to the Levi Strauss fortune.)

  Lurie has impeccable connections with old money and new money in San Francisco, as we’ve detailed, and he’s beginning to capitalize on them. But Believe in SF—led by Brian Brokaw and Dan Newman, two longtime confidants of Gov. Gavin Newsom—points out that Breed has her own super PAC, too. We don’t know how much that group has raised, but Lurie is beginning to level the playing field, especially with his new ballot committee that can raise unlimited money.

• Donor watch!: Tech investor Keith Rabois and husband, Jake Helberg, a China critic and author who has gained currency in hawkish Washington circles, are cementing themselves as major players in Republican politics this cycle, according to some invitations I’ve seen. The Miami couple are playing host to everyone from Elise Stefanik to Steve Scalise, Lindsey Graham, Nikki Haley, and Ken Calvert this quarter. Their biggest event is slated to be a fundraiser for the National Republican Senatorial Committee and its chair, Steve Daines, on February 21.

• And an S.B.F. update…: Lest you forget about Sam Bankman-Fried as he awaits his March sentencing by Judge Lewis Kaplan, do not fear—Mary McKee of Minnetonka, Minnesota, has you covered. Mary wrote in impeccable handwriting to Kaplan last week—on graph paper, no less—to plead that S.B.F. receive a light sentence and maybe just be condemned to teaching “high school math.” “Mr. Bankman-Fried certainly seems to be autistic and doesn’t seem like a prison sentence would be of no benefit to anyone,” reads the message, with its confusing double-negatives. “It isn’t like he set out to commit fraud like Bernie Madoff.” Kudos to Mary for keeping Sam in her thoughts and prayers.

But this particular Mar-a-Lago experience has taken on much more symbolic significance inside Trump world, where it’s being thrown like a gauntlet at members of the Trump-weary megadonor class who have been sitting on the sidelines—especially after Trump’s blowout, 30-point victory over Ron DeSantis and Nikki Haley in Iowa. In private messaging, campaign fundraising chief Meredith O’Rourke has effectively positioned the Mar-a-Lago event as an epoch-defining moment on her team’s calendar, according to multiple sources. The Trump campaign has put out the word to major G.O.P. donors that if they’re not on the Trump train by the time of that February event, it will be noted on their permanent record—and any chance of forgiveness will get much more remote thereafter, according to people who have gotten the message. (The Trump camp declined to comment.) “I don’t know if there’s a deadline where we won’t accept your money,” said one Trump fundraising source of the Mar-a-Lago event. But “if you want to be a kitchen cabinet person, that’s a cutoff.”

Sure, the door is never officially closed—and donors can always cut penance checks in the spring or summer, before the Republican National Convention, or even for the Inaugural if they absolutely have to. But donors are hearing that the time for dalliances with DeSantis and Haley—or, quelle horreur, anyone who dropped out eons ago—has come to an end.

Mega-donors from Bernie Marcus to Harold Hamm, who previously held off from cutting checks, recently bowed to this same logic, formally deciding to back Trump because of his perceived inevitability. Some major donors who were active in support of Trump’s rivals have also since bent the knee. I’ve learned that Robert Bigelow, the hotelier and aerospace entrepreneur who previously gave $20 million to DeSantis’ super PAC, has recently signaled to Trump allies that he is now supporting Trump for president. “They’re all going to support Trump,” said another Trump fundraising source. “[Steve] Schwarzman and Trump go way back. Ken [Griffin] is going to come home, too.”

Ed McMullen, a Trump fundraiser who served in his administration as ambassador to Switzerland, described a tidal wave of Republican donors rushing to make amends and secure their place among Trump’s allies. “I’ve never had the experience of people reaching out in such large numbers to do a mea culpa and say, ‘How can I support the president?’” he told me. “When they see a historic victory like in Iowa last night, there is a huge number of people who say, ‘Look, now it’s time to do a reality check.’”

The campaign has circulated a sign-up form that outlines seven different levels of bundling commitments, ranging from the “Trump Force” ($15,000) to “CLUB 47” ($50,000) to the top level, “Ultra MAGA” ($1,000,000). But Trump’s team has sometimes appeared more interested in raising money for the super PAC than the campaign itself. Trump often combines super PAC and campaign-side fundraisers—hosting a reception for the campaign, for example, immediately followed by a dinner for the super PAC. (There’s a super PAC event associated with next month’s Mar-a-Lago event too, I’m told.)

Trump has not exactly been traveling to St. Louis and Milwaukee to meet with the bundlers at the local Rotary Club: As could be expected of a former president, bundlers come to him (with a few exceptions for one fundraising swing to Texas, one to California, and a few stray events to Florida). While Trump has deigned to appear on a conference call or two, including a November 30 “Trump 2024 Bundler Committee Update Call,” most of his previous high-dollar fundraisers have been at Bedminster or Mar-a-Lago. The few people to play host outside of Trump properties are Houston Rockets owner Tilman Fertitta and billionaire Kenny Troutt, in Texas; real-estate baron Geoff Palmer and tech entrepreneur Palmer Luckey, in California; and longtime Trump friend Steve Witkoff, in Miami. Early bundlers include Phil Ruffin and Steve Wynn, in Nevada; John and Lindy Blanchard, in Alabama; Ike Perlmutter, in Florida; and Howard Lorber and Howard Lutnick, in New York.

The Trump team has been remarkably good at incentivizing both these top donors and the sub-megadonor class: Supporters who raise at least $100,000 for the campaign get a personal video from Trump thanking them, I’m told. (That is also about the price to attend a dinner with him.) Want to see Trump live in front of a crowd? On Monday, donors who contributed $23,200 per couple were given front-row seats to a Trump speech in Des Moines, per another invitation I saw. That’s true of most rallies that Trump hosts—there is often a V.I.P. clutch beforehand for donors who cut significant-enough checks.

Joe Slovacek, a swashbuckling Texas donor I’ve known since my days in Houston, is backing Trump and went to one of those $100,000-a-head dinners recently in Houston attended by Trump and Ben Carson. He also told me about a dinner he went to at Mar-a-Lago recently for $50,000-a-person where donations went to a publishing company, Winning Team Publishing, that has put out Trump-related books, including one full of letters that celebrities wrote to him. Trump sat there for three hours, Slovacek said, regaling the donors with stories, music, and videos.

If Haley beats Trump in New Hampshire, of course, she’ll need another massive infusion of checks to survive the next phase of the race. Some of that money might come from the American Opportunity Alliance—the high-powered donor network with leaders like Paul Singer and Ken Griffin—which is scheduled to meet at the end of the month in Palm Beach. (Although I was surprised to hear that Haley isn’t currently invited to the function, despite the fact that she is scheduled to be in the Palm Beach area for other fundraising events at that time.)

Trump, meanwhile, is trying to stamp out any remaining dissension. Within Trump world, there has been some recent debate over the best time to sign a joint fundraising agreement with the Republican National Committee, which would allow the campaign to accept larger contributions. Right now, the Trump campaign raises money for the Trump Save America Joint Fundraising Committee, with a legal maximum of $11,600 per person. Typically, you can only sign a fundraising agreement with the R.N.C., which would allow them to accept six-figure contributions per person, when you have secured the nomination, formally or presumptively. But some people on the Trump team believe that the former president should move to set up a joint committee earlier than is technically allowed, maybe as soon as March. After all, they insist, this election is over, and maybe they’re right.