Gemotions

He stared at the email, a knot forming in his gut. The publishing contract. His novel, years in the making, now attributed to *Marcus Blackwood*. A man he'd never even heard of. He felt a surge of heat rush through him, his face flushing. This was wrong. This was unacceptable.

He tossed the contract onto the floor, the paper fluttering uselessly. He stormed to the window, gazing at the city sprawled below. He refused to be a victim.

He would make his voice heard. He would not be silenced. He picked up his phone, and opened his contacts. The legal battle would be the next step.