Rafael Torres is brought into a discreet government facility, a small room with a single table and a wall of glass that reflects nothing. He is handcuffed, his eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. “You think you can silence me?” he spits. “The world knows what you’ve done—your deals with the mining conglomerates, the disappearances in the Patagonia region.”

The President’s speech is measured, his tone calm. “Our nation stands at a crossroads. Corruption is a virus, but democracy is the antidote. I call upon this house to investigate, to bring to light the shadow that threatens our sovereignty.”

María holds the ledger up to the dim streetlamp. “This is the proof we need,” she says. “It’s not just about one lobbyist; it’s a network that reaches deep into the heart of power.”

In a sleek skyscraper overlooking the Pacific, sits at the head of a polished glass table. Around her, men in suits sip espresso, their eyes flickering between spreadsheets and encrypted tablets. “We have a problem,” she says, tapping a file marked “Operation Eclipse.” “The President’s security has tightened. Rafael is our leak. We need a new channel.”