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There’s an old saying: The first lie wins. It’s not referring to the little white kind that tumble out with no thought; it refers to the big one. The one that changes the game. The one that is deliberate. The lie that sets the stage for everything that comes after it. And once the lie is told, it’s what most people believe to be true. The first lie has to be the strongest. The most important. The one that has to be told.
This quote captures First Lie Wins's central philosophy; the "first lie" establishes the foundation for future actions, setting the rules for relationships and events—once it’s told, it becomes the truth people rely on, regardless of its authenticity. This insight reflects the way lies in the novel are not merely reactive but proactive tools for survival and power.
The notion that the first lie "changes the game" suggests that lies are not just individual falsehoods but strategic moves that alter the trajectory of events. This idea applies to Evie’s various identities throughout the novel: each false persona she adopts is a carefully crafted first lie that defines her interactions and influences how others perceive her. Whether posing as Lucca Marino or fabricating her life story for Ryan, Evie’s success hinges on the strength and believability of that initial deception. Once people believe the first lie, the truth becomes irrelevant—the lie becomes the reality they respond to, illustrating the fragile nature of perception and truth.
Even though I will remember Miles and this job for the rest of my life, he will no doubt forget about me. But Mr. Smith is wrong. I’m not just a ghost who passed through the Kingstons’ life. I am a ghost passing through my own life.
This quote delves into Evie’s profound sense of disconnection from her own identity and life. Her description of herself as a ghost reveals how living through layers of deception has eroded her sense of self. Each new identity she adopts serves as a survival mechanism, but with every role, she drifts further from who she once was. Evie’s life becomes a series of performances—temporary, fleeting, and insubstantial—leaving her with no stable foundation or enduring sense of belonging. The idea of being a ghost suggests that, while she interacts with the world, she does so without truly being seen or known.
The statement—"I am a ghost passing through my own life"—captures the emotional toll of constantly existing in liminal spaces: she is neither fully committed to any one identity nor grounded in a singular reality. Even as she accumulates experiences and memories, they don’t tether her to anything meaningful. Her life becomes a collection of moments that belong to other people, other versions of herself, while her true self slips away. This suggests that the more she masters the art of deception, the less space remains for an authentic version of Evie to exist.
The ghost metaphor emphasizes the isolation inherent in Evie’s way of living. Ghosts are both present and absent—seen but never truly known—mirroring Evie’s experience as someone who moves through the lives of others without leaving lasting traces. At the same time, she feels equally disconnected from her own existence, like a spectator in her own story. The idea of being a ghost reflects her growing awareness that a life built on lies, no matter how skillfully crafted, leaves her ultimately unmoored, wandering between identities without a true sense of self.
I spent years and years protecting the identity of Lucca Marino. Making sure I could go back there and be that girl. I’ve already bought the land to build the dream house Mama and I planned. Already have the landscaping plans for the garden Mama would have loved. But when that name was threatened, I realized it was just that. A name. I spent years protecting the idea of Lucca Marino, but I’m no longer that naive little girl. While it was hard to finally make the decision to let her go, the truth is she’s been gone a long time. I don’t need to be Lucca Marino to keep the memory of Mama alive. Or to do the things Mama would have wanted me to do.
This quote from Chapter 24, after Evie identifies the woman in the hotel video as “Lucca Marino,” captures a pivotal moment in Evie’s journey toward self-acceptance and growth. Her years of protecting the name “Lucca Marino” reveal her attempt to cling to an idealized version of herself—a version connected to her mother’s dreams and their shared vision of a stable, happy life—but this attempt also trapped her in a past that no longer exists. The house and garden she planned to build serve as manifestations of that imagined future, where reclaiming her original identity would somehow restore the life she feels was lost.
However, Evie’s realization that the name is "just that—a name" marks a shift from illusion to acceptance. The process of letting go of that name is not just about giving up a label—it’s about releasing the expectations, nostalgia, and guilt tied to an unattainable version of herself. This acceptance allows her to move forward, not as a girl clinging to a dream, but as a woman ready to define her life on her own terms.
