Chapter: The Ghostwriting Incident

It started on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday morning.

Diana had arrived early to supervise the English classes in the school library, intent on reviewing literature with the students—an activity as quiet and precise as a surgical procedure. The rows of bookshelves loomed over them like silent sentinels, their polished wood reflecting the morning sunlight in narrow, sharp strips.

That’s when the guest arrived: a self-proclaimed famous ghostwriter, here to inspire the students with her “original” novel and cover art.

Diana had heard the announcement via email, but the woman’s confident stride and carefully rehearsed smile did not impress her.

“Ah, yes,” Diana murmured to herself, adjusting her black blazer, “a master of shadows… that cast by someone else.”

The First Clue

The students settled around the reading tables, pencils poised. Diana silently observed as the ghostwriter opened her book and began reading passages aloud—overly dramatic, with every flourish exaggerated as though the words themselves had been choreographed for attention.

Diana raised an eyebrow. The sentences sounded… familiar. Too familiar.

A faint memory tugged at her. Something from a long time ago… some obscure, nearly forgotten work.

Her phone buzzed: a notification from Discord. Beckett was online.

A sly smile flickered across her face.

The Discord Connection

She tapped out a quick message:

“Beckett. Cover art—reverse search. I have a suspicion.”

Within ten seconds, the reply came:

“Checked. It’s mine. From five years ago. No credit. Old in-house favors.”

Diana’s smirk widened. She set her phone down and casually began her next move.

The Comparison

“Class,” she said, her voice calm, almost serene, “let’s examine the story critically.”

The students leaned in as Diana opened her own stack of novels. The comparisons began subtly at first:

Sentence structures eerily matching passages she’d read before

Character archetypes nearly identical to other novels

The pacing… uncanny

As she read aloud, her tone was deceptively gentle. The ghostwriter’s confident grin began to falter.

“Interesting choice of phrasing,” Diana said, flipping a page. “This line here—’the shadow lingered longer than the day deserved’—that’s identical to a passage I read in… several of these older editions.”

The ghostwriter coughed. Forced a laugh.

“Coincidence,” she said.

“Coincidence,” Diana repeated softly. Her eyes glinted. “Perhaps. Or perhaps familiarity is a dangerous thing.”

Students were scribbling notes frantically, some stifling giggles.

The Exposure

Diana moved through the pages with the precision of a detective. By the third comparison, it was unmistakable.

Cover art? Stolen from Beckett’s old design

Character arcs? Rehashed from old novels

Entire narrative beats? Borrowed with minor cosmetic changes

She closed the book deliberately, letting the silence stretch.

“So,” Diana said, voice level but icy, “fame is no shield. Reputation, no armor. One should never cross my family, nor steal from them—nor, indeed, from anyone under our protection.”

The ghostwriter’s color drained. The students were staring wide-eyed, whispers bouncing along the shelves.

Beckett’s Invisible Presence

Meanwhile, Beckett was at home, working quietly on his own projects. The notification from Diana arrived, subtle but firm:

“Cover art verification. You online?”

He responded immediately, the faint echo of amusement in his calm tone:

“Ten seconds. Confirmed.”

It was enough. Beckett’s invisible, controlled power was already part of the unfolding disaster. Diana didn’t need to see him; his mere digital presence gave her confidence.

The Aftermath

By the end of the library session:

The ghostwriter’s career was quietly imploding among the students

Her previous accolades questioned

She left the library muttering, trying to salvage dignity that had already dissolved

Students whispered among themselves, stunned by the precision and composure of Diana

“Remember,” Diana said softly to the class as they packed up, “fame is meaningless. Skill is earned. And crossing boundaries… is never wise.”

Outside the library, the students had long since forgotten to fear their teacher—they now respected, maybe even feared, the quiet ferocity that was Diana Vonreichsin.

Beckett, quietly online, typed one last message to her:

“Handled misstress.”

She smiled.

“As always my prince.”

The school day continued. The library settled into silence once more.

And in shadowsun city City, the lesson was simple: no matter how famous you think you are, crossing Diana or her family—Beckett included—was a mistake you would never recover from.

End of Chapter: The Ghostwriting Incident