The summit estate had become a living, breathing organism. Everyone moved fast and spoke faster—radio chatter echoed through every hallway, clipboards passed between hands like lifelines. I barely had time to think.
I was on my feet from before dawn until well after dark, coordinating guest movements, confirming speaking schedules, troubleshooting transport routes. Every minute was accounted for, and still it felt like we were behind.
My voice had gone hoarse from repeating the same instructions. I rubbed my temples between calls and snapped at an aide who misspelled a delegate’s name badge for the third time. I apologized. Then did it again two hours later. The pressure sat behind my eyes like a second heartbeat, dull and relentless.
Late in the afternoon, during a final walkthrough of
