GraceVoices clashed over one another, people yelling orders, others arguing, the sound of rushing feet echoing against the walls. A man carrying boxes nearly collided with someone pushing a cart, and both cursed under their breath.I blinked, standing at the front of the backstage, watching the chaos unfold with a raised eyebrow. This was supposed to be an organized event, not a battlefield. With a quiet sigh, I walked toward, only for a security guard to step in front of me, blocking my path.“Backstage pass,” he said gruffly.Without a word, I reached into my purse and showed him the pass clipped to my lanyard. He glanced at it, then gave a small nod and stepped aside. “You can go in.”“Thanks,” I muttered, brushing past him.The moment I stepped backstage, I regretted it.It was so much worse.People were running everywhere, holding props, papers, clothes, flowers, wires, it was a miracle no one had caught on fire yet.“How many times do I have to tell you that Miss Rachel said I
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