The two weeks passed faster than Eve expected.
They weren’t easy weeks. They were full, long, demanding, structured, but they were also strangely grounding. Every morning, she arrived at the temporary offices allocated to the cooking competition set with a notebook under her arm, a pen tucked behind her ear, and a mind focused on logistics rather than fear.
On building.
Not surviving.
Alexander ran the operation with surgical precision. He was calm where others panicked, efficient where others stalled. Around him, the team moved like a well-oiled machine: segment producers arguing over schedule blocks, coordinators calling contestants and venues, sponsors checking branding placements, culinary consultants arguing about plating rules, logistics staff calculating travel times from differ
