Gemotions

He paced, the polished floorboards of his apartment creaking under his relentless movement. The unauthorized biography sat on his coffee table, a sleek black monolith of betrayal. Every word felt like a deliberate misrepresentation. He felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. He’d poured years into building his reputation, a reputation now seemingly open for anyone to distort and manipulate.

His gaze snapped to his phone. He grabbed it and punched in a number with a speed that bordered on violence. “I want him,” he growled into the receiver, his voice low and dangerous. “I want him here. Now.” He wouldn't rest until he had answers.