Chap­ter 66 begins with the pro­tag­o­nist sit­ting on the couch, her mind over­whelmed with the mem­o­ries of her father. The images of him lift­ing her in the air in the back­yard or shar­ing banana splits for break­fast are tinged with a bit­ter­sweet sor­row, as she has always asso­ci­at­ed them with the way he died—believing that his mis­takes led to his untime­ly pass­ing. Now, as she reflects on his life, she strug­gles with how to view him. A defin­ing trait that once anchored her per­cep­tion of him is gone, replaced by a more com­plex under­stand­ing of who he was and how his life came to an end, for bet­ter or worse.

After sit­ting for what feels like an eter­ni­ty, replay­ing mem­o­ries and imag­ined scenes of her father’s final moments, the pro­tag­o­nist can no longer remain still. She ris­es from the couch and walks into the hall­way, deter­mined to find Eve­lyn. She dis­cov­ers Eve­lyn in the kitchen with Grace, and hold­ing up a let­ter, she con­fronts Eve­lyn, ques­tion­ing the real rea­son behind her vis­it. Eve­lyn, who had orches­trat­ed this meet­ing under the guise of need­ing help with a sto­ry, admits that she had planned this all along, but it wasn’t just about the letter—it was about a con­nec­tion, about find­ing some­one who could under­stand the com­plex­i­ty of her life and the sto­ry she want­ed to share. The admis­sion of want­i­ng the pro­tag­o­nist to write her story—unflinching and honest—becomes a key moment, as Eve­lyn reveals her desire to con­trol her nar­ra­tive, even in the final chap­ters of her life.

As the con­ver­sa­tion unfolds, Eve­lyn defends her actions, chal­leng­ing the pro­tag­o­nist’s notion of self-inter­est. The pro­tag­o­nist, how­ev­er, is not eas­i­ly con­vinced. Eve­lyn’s bold­ness in con­fronting her, urg­ing her to take respon­si­bil­i­ty for her own ambi­tions, reveals the com­plex­i­ty of their rela­tion­ship. The pro­tag­o­nist, still grap­pling with her emo­tions over her father’s let­ter and the messi­ness of her own life, is forced to reck­on with the uncom­fort­able truth of how much she has been influ­enced by Evelyn’s cal­cu­lat­ed moves. Yet, despite the ten­sion, Eve­lyn pro­vides clar­i­ty in her final words about the nature of life—no one is com­plete­ly a vic­tim or a vic­tor. We are all some­where in between, con­stant­ly nav­i­gat­ing the gray areas of our actions and moti­va­tions.

Evelyn’s sharp insights into life’s con­tra­dic­tions leave the pro­tag­o­nist ques­tion­ing her own role in the sto­ry. She walks away briefly to wash her hands, seek­ing a moment of soli­tude to calm the nerves that seem to take over when faced with Evelyn’s can­did­ness. But as Eve­lyn con­tin­ues to reveal more about her past, includ­ing her bat­tle with breast can­cer and the urgency of final­iz­ing her affairs, the pro­tag­o­nist is once again con­front­ed with her com­plex­i­ty. Eve­lyn, despite her fame and manip­u­la­tion, is deeply human, fac­ing her mor­tal­i­ty and try­ing to leave behind some­thing mean­ing­ful. The pro­tag­o­nist, still wrestling with her feel­ings of shame, guilt, and even a twinge of sym­pa­thy, ulti­mate­ly makes the deci­sion to step away. Yet, in that moment, she’s also forced to acknowl­edge the enor­mous weight of Eve­lyn’s life and the respon­si­bil­i­ty of telling her sto­ry.

In the final part of this chap­ter, Eve­lyn lays out her plan for the pro­tag­o­nist: fin­ish the book, final­ize her will, and deal with the lega­cy she will leave behind. She places the letter—the one she’s held onto for decades—into the protagonist’s hands, fur­ther empha­siz­ing the weight of what she’s about to under­take. The pro­tag­o­nist, feel­ing both bur­dened and con­flict­ed, decides she’s had enough for the day, telling Eve­lyn she can’t take any more of the con­ver­sa­tion. This inter­ac­tion leaves the pro­tag­o­nist with a whirl­wind of emo­tions, but it also marks a turn­ing point—one that forces her to con­front the painful real­i­ty of her feel­ings toward Eve­lyn and the task ahead of her. The book, the sto­ry, and Evelyn’s lega­cy are now inter­twined with the protagonist’s own jour­ney, one that will demand more than just writing—it will require grap­pling with the com­plex­i­ties of life, loss, and the imper­fect nature of human rela­tion­ships.

The con­ver­sa­tion between Eve­lyn and the pro­tag­o­nist is charged with a blend of vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty and pow­er, show­cas­ing the ten­sion between the two women as they nav­i­gate the com­plex­i­ties of truth, lega­cy, and self-per­cep­tion. The pro­tag­o­nist is caught between her per­son­al griev­ances and the moral weight of telling a sto­ry that is at once her own and some­one else’s. This chap­ter serves as a crit­i­cal turn­ing point, set­ting the stage for the protagonist’s evo­lu­tion as she faces the chal­lenges of writ­ing Eve­lyn’s sto­ry, all while con­fronting her own emo­tions and under­stand­ing of her father. As Evelyn’s loom­ing pres­ence con­tin­ues to shape the protagonist’s path, it’s clear that this nar­ra­tive will be any­thing but sim­ple, and it will demand more than the pro­tag­o­nist ever antic­i­pat­ed.