Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor’s inbox, a cruel little taunt. *Congratulations, your article is live!* The congratulatory tone felt like a slap. Except the name attached to the article wasn’t hers. It was Bartholomew Finch, her boss, a man who consistently took credit for her work. Eleanor reread the email, her jaw clenching. She felt a heat rising in her chest, a slow burn that had nothing to do with the office thermostat.

She’d spent months on that article, pouring over research, crafting the perfect prose. Now, Bartholomew was basking in the glory, probably taking all the praise. Eleanor stared at the ceiling, picturing his smug face. A smile, thin and predatory, ghosted across her lips.

Later that day, she casually mentioned to the marketing team that Bartholomew had a rather unfortunate typo in his "award-winning" article. She made sure to say it loud enough for the entire office to hear.