Merritt is the novel’s co-antagonist, a role concealed until the final chapters. She is also the co-narrator. Along with Lydia, Merritt presents the novel’s events through her first-person narration. Presented initially as a “reasonable woman” (5), a protective mother, and an anxious, supportive wife, Merritt is a round and dynamic character who is revealed to be behind Lydia’s kidnapping. Her characterization as a manipulator is central to the exploration of The Destructive Pursuit of a Perfect Facade, as she orchestrates kidnapping and murder to construct and maintain her idyllic life.

Merritt’s obsession with control is her defining trait, manifesting in nearly every point-of-view chapter. She meticulously curates her family’s image, from their luxurious coastal home to her carefully managed interactions, viewing her life as a project to be perfected. Her internal monologue reveals a deep-seated fear of failure and a corresponding need for control, stating, “my little slice of the world is much more enjoyable when I can control it” (26). This drive is not born of both insecurity and ambition. She sees other people not as individuals but as instruments for her use. She identifies Luca as “moldable, pliable clay” (196) and Lydia as “low-hanging fruit” (196), demonstrating her ability to assess and exploit the vulnerabilities of others to achieve her ends. Her arrogance leads her to underestimate both of them, and eventually she realizes they’ve both used her.

Merritt’s capacity for self-deception makes her an unreliable narrator. She presents herself as a victim of circumstance, overwhelmed by Lydia’s return and Luca’s secrecy, all while being the architect of the original crime. She feigns sympathy for Lydia, taking her shopping and offering friendship, but these acts are designed to keep her enemy close and maintain control of the narrative. Her internal thoughts reveal a lack of empathy, viewing Lydia’s suffering as a mere inconvenience to her perfect life. This emotional detachment allows her to accept Lydia’s suffering without remorse.

The final revelation that she planned Lydia’s kidnapping to fund her life with a $2 million insurance payout re-contextualizes her every action throughout the novel. Her ultimate decision to murder Luca and frame Lydia is the culmination of her ruthlessness, a final, desperate act of self-preservation when her carefully constructed world begins to crumble. She sees this not as an act of evil but as a logical solution, stating, “If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself” (230).

Merritt is also defined by her roles as a mother. This role is presented viscerally: Throughout most of the novel, she is pregnant, fighting physical exhaustion, painful contractions, and a judgmental doctor. She recalls her struggle with IVF before she became pregnant with Elsie. After giving birth to Everett, she experiences intense pain from her C-section incision. Merritt’s ambition and insecurity stem from a childhood of emotional neglect. She watches her mother descend into substance use before her wealthy father divorces her and starts another family. Merritt is terrified of this fate and wants to have a strong bond with her children, but this is doomed by her misguided, self-serving actions.

Luca is the only male character and the novel’s primary antagonist. His archetype is the criminal who hides in plain sight. Like the character Dexter Morgan from the television series Dexter, Luca hides the commission of his crimes behind a respectable façade. When he meets Lydia, he is ordinary and withdrawn. This is soon proven to be a front when he is charismatic and charming to Lydia on their first date. Secretly, he’s already met Merritt, and Luca uses her insurance plan as an opportunity to fulfill his desires as a rapist.

Merritt recognizes Luca’s predatory nature early: “Luca has demons. I’ve known that since several months into our relationship, when I stumbled across his collection of torture porn and the Polaroids of disfigured animals” (196). She also recognizes that Luca will prey on women with or without her: “And if it hadn’t been [Lydia], it would’ve been some other girl. Or girls. Plural” (196). These observations prove that Luca isn’t just Merritt’s pawn, as she claims throughout the novel.

Because his characterization is indirect—and the narrators presenting it are unreliable—his full picture remains elusive. Lydia notes that Luca might leave things undone on purpose. She watches him put the key in the lock of his office door, but he doesn’t turn the key. She can’t tell if the act is intentional or a moment of forgetfulness. Likewise, when he shoots her, he misses her heart, shooting her in the shoulder instead. Merritt writes it off as incompetence, but Luca tells Lydia that he didn’t want to kill her—only to force her to disappear. Because Luca is a serial liar, there’s no way to know which, if either, of these explanations is true.