Chapter 42
Chapter 42: The Weight of Justice
Anna didn't yell. She didn't call the police this time. She stood on the concrete steps of the New York subway, looking at her aunt not with hatred, but with a profound, crushing pity.
"You did that to yourself, Sabrina," Anna said softly. "You and Grandma and Papa thought you could take a shortcut using my life. Now you're just paying the fare."
"Do you hate me?" Sabrina asked, her voice desperate for any kind of emotional connection, even an angry one.
"No," Anna replied, looking her straight in the eye. "I don't think about you at all. The only time I remember you exist is when the direct deposit hits my account on the first of the month."
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Those words were more damaging than any prison sentence. To a narcissist like Sabrina, who had spent her entire life needing to be the center of attention—the golden daughter, the wealthy mother, the tragic victim—being completely insignificant was the ultimate death.
Anna turned around, swiped her metro card, and walked through the turnstile, leaving Sabrina standing alone in the damp air of the underground station. When Anna called me that night to tell me about it, she was laughing. Not a cruel laugh, but the light, easy laugh of a young woman who had completely conquered her past.
