The screen flickered in the dim Caracas apartment, casting shadows across the whistleblower's sweat-beaded face. His fingers flew over the encrypted keyboard, uploading the final packet—wallet addresses buried in innocuous "premium lesson credits" on NexusLearn, routing millions in seized Venezuelan Bitcoin to offshore shadows. "This ends it," he whispered to the empty room. "The Curators think they're untouchable. But the world will see." Transfer complete. Then the power cut out. Footsteps in the hall. Polite knocks—too polite. The door splintered. The feed went dead.
