With the scandal cooled and attention dwindling, June feels herself slipping into irrelevance despite steady sales of The Last Front. She watches newer authors rise, worries her mentee Emmy Cho will surpass her, and fields gentle but urgent pressure from her agent Brett to deliver any new project.

Each writing attempt is derailed by Athena Liu’s “ghost,” an internal critic mocking June’s ideas and sentences. Obsessed and blocked, June admits she took additional pages from Athena’s desk the night Athena died. Among the scraps is a haunting paragraph that unlocks a new story idea.

Using those fragments as a catalyst, June drafts Mother Witch in a manic burst, channeling themes of mothers, loss, and identity. She insists the work is original—Athena provided only a spark—and plans a rapid revision schedule, convinced she has finally escaped Athena’s shadow.

June then recounts freshman year: after a drunken, ambiguous sexual encounter with a sophomore named Andrew, she spiraled with anxiety. Athena comforted her and guided her to counseling, but later published a short story mirroring June’s experience and language. June felt exploited, concluding Athena habitually mined others’ lives for art and framing her own appropriation as justified retaliation.

Mother Witch releases to modest sales but strong, even validating reviews, including a New York Times nod that quiets plagiarism doubts. A small, drama-free tour bolsters June’s confidence, and Athena’s taunting voice finally recedes—yet the calm feels ominous, hinting that trouble is still coming.