Gemotions

The first email was from a colleague, congratulating him on the success of his new book, *“Decoding the Human Genome.”* Then came another, and another, all singing the praises of Dr. Aris Thorne. He nearly choked on his morning coffee.

It wasn't his book. It was his manuscript. He'd spent years on it, pouring over scientific papers, fighting the constant self-doubt. Thorne, his supposed mentor, had simply taken it.

He closed his eyes, the image of Thorne’s face, always so smooth, so calculating, seared behind his eyelids. The man had a knack for charming people, a way of appearing brilliant, even when he was just repeating someone else's work.

He slammed his fist on the desk. The pain was welcome. It grounded him. He felt an intense desire to expose Thorne, to reveal the truth, but then thought of the probable fallout. A bitter taste coated his tongue.

He turned on his computer, clicked on the document. He would read every single paragraph. He would find any errors, any slight inaccuracies. He would have to.