Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, glowing with the stark white light of betrayal. It was from a journalist, a stranger, but the subject line – "Possible plagiarism by Miles Corbin" – slammed into her chest like a fist. Miles Corbin. Her hero. The man whose words had soothed her through countless sleepless nights. She clicked the email open, fingers trembling.

Her breath hitched. A knot formed in her stomach as she read the attached comparison document. Line after line, her own prose, her own ideas, mirrored in Corbin's latest bestselling novel. The room around her seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. She stood, knocking over her chair in her haste to pace.

She grabbed her phone, the metal cold against her ear. Her voice was sharp, brittle, when she dialed her agent’s number, "I need you to look into something. Immediately."