Gemotions

The email shimmered on Elara's screen, the subject line a taunt: "Literary Analysis: The Crimson Bloom and its Precursors." A grin stretched across her face, almost splitting her cheeks. She tapped the mouse, opening the attachment. A flurry of red text highlighted passages from her own unpublished manuscript. It was a visceral thrill, a kind of vindictive satisfaction.

She leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking in response. Years of sending her work out, only to be rejected, now felt like a cruel joke. The author, a woman named Veridia Vance, whose work Elara had devoured for years, had stolen, verbatim, from her.

A slow, deliberate chuckle escaped her lips. Elara picked up her phone, her fingers already dancing across the screen to dial a lawyer's number. This was going to be fun.