By the third week, time did not feel like a resource anymore. Instead, it pressed in from all sides. The countdown slipped from Lynda’s conscious mind; now, it hummed quietly behind every meeting, every choice, every conversation she had. Thirty days had somehow dwindled to ten. Ten days to make something happen. Ten days to fight off displacement. Ten days left to prove that purpose could survive reality.

The call came around mid-morning. Claire’s voice sounded steady enough, but Lynda ...