Gemotions

The lawyer across the mahogany desk looked up, eyebrows raised. "So, Ms. Davies," he began, his voice smooth and professional, "you are… displeased with the book?" Displeased? Robert Davies felt a surge of pure, unadulterated… something. He leaned forward, knuckles white against the desk.

"Displeased?" he echoed, his voice dangerously low. "It's a complete fabrication! They’ve taken liberties with my life, my family, everything!" His shoulders were rigid; he could feel the muscles in his neck constricting. He crossed his arms, the action a sharp gesture of frustration. He knew he'd need to sue.