Gemotions

Thomas paced the perimeter of his grandfather's study, his shadow stretching long in the afternoon sun. He wasn't sure what he expected to find, but he knew the truth lay hidden in these boxes. His family had built a mythology around his grandmother, a saintly figure who’d endured hardship with grace.

He opened a leather-bound album, his pulse hammering. The first photo showed her, not in a sun-drenched field as she'd always told him, but in a dimly lit casino, her face obscured by the brim of a hat. He felt a sharp jab of adrenaline.

Another photo. His grandfather, surrounded by men in suits, a stack of bills visible on the table. The image was grainy, but the tension was clear. He gripped the edge of the album so hard his knuckles turned white. This was wrong. This *couldn't* be. He needed to understand.