June anticipates accusations of theft, plagiarism, and racism, then insists her act differs from simple copying. She says Athena’s early draft was chaotic, requiring heavy rewriting, cuts, and completion in Athena’s style. She frames her labor as finishing an abandoned masterpiece rather than passing off a completed work.

June argues the manuscript would have languished or been dismissed as an unfinished curiosity if left as Athena’s. She claims she gave it a fair chance, notes Athena is thanked in the acknowledgments, and imagines Athena would have enjoyed the hoax given her interest in authorial identity and reader bias. She admits this may be self-justification but denies being consumed by guilt.

Instead, June describes excitement and creative renewal. Working through Athena’s prose sharpens her own; old ideas feel fresh, and she believes she has absorbed Athena’s verve. She feels as if she is writing for both of them, carrying a torch that reignites her belief in literary success.

Finally, June shifts to a starker defense. Recalling a Yale philosophy ex, she embraces the idea that the living owe nothing to the dead, rejecting obligations to a deceased author’s wishes. She concludes that taking the manuscript felt like reparations—payback for what she believes Athena took from her.