I Am Not Your Pawn Anymore

The smell hit her the moment she opened the front door of the row house in Astoria. Stale cigarette smoke, old frying oil, and despair.

"You're back."

Brenda, her stepmother, didn't look up from the TV. She was painting her toenails on the coffee table. "Did you bring the money? Your dad owes Tony three grand."

Tiffany, her stepsister, was lounging on the sofa, scrolling on her phone. She eyed Anaya's Balenciaga bag with naked envy. "Is that new? Can I have it?"

Anaya walked past them, her heels clicking on the linoleum. She went to the back room.

Her father, Earl, was passed out on the recliner. The TV was blaring a horse racing channel. He looked old, broken, and pathetic.

Anaya felt a pang of pity, but she strangled it. Pity was what had kept her tethered to this sinking ship for a decade. Pity was why she had almost been assaulted by a loan shark in her last life, trying to pay off Earl's debts.

She walked back to the living room.

Brenda stood up, blocking her path. She held out a greasy business card. "Tony said if you go to dinner with him, he might waive the interest. He likes you, Anaya. You should be nice to him."

Anaya took the card. She looked at it. Tony's Auto Repair & Loans.

She remembered the dinner. She remembered Tony's hands under the table. She remembered running out into the rain, sobbing.

She ripped the card in half. Then in quarters. She let the pieces flutter to the floor.

"Hey!" Brenda screeched. "You ungrateful little-"

Anaya slammed a folder onto the coffee table. The sound made Tiffany jump.

"This is the deed transfer," Anaya said, her voice cutting through the room like a knife. "I am signing over my half of the house to you. It's worth two hundred thousand dollars in equity."

Brenda's eyes widened. Greed instantly replaced anger. "You... you're giving us the house?"

"In exchange for this." Anaya pulled out a second document. Emancipation and Severance of Familial Ties. It wasn't a standard legal form, but it was binding if notarized. "And a promise that you never contact me again."

"Why would we sign that?" Tiffany sneered. "We can just take the house and still call you for money."

Anaya pulled out her phone. She tapped the screen and played a recording.

It was Brenda's voice. "...yeah, just forge Earl's signature on the insurance policy. If he drinks himself to death, we get double indemnity."

Brenda's face went white.

Anaya had recorded it years ago-or rather, she would have recorded it in the future. But in this timeline, she knew exactly where Brenda kept her diary detailing the scheme. She had snapped photos of the pages before coming downstairs.

"I have photos of your diary, Brenda," Anaya lied smoothly, bluffing with the truth of the future. "Sign the paper. Or I go to the cops for conspiracy to commit insurance fraud."

Earl stirred in the other room. "Anaya? Is that my girl? Do you have twenty bucks?"

Anaya didn't look toward his voice. That part of her was dead.

Brenda snatched the pen. Her hands were shaking. She signed the document.

Anaya took the paper, checked the signature, and put it in her bag.

"Goodbye, Brenda," she said. "Enjoy the house. The bank is foreclosing in three months anyway."

She walked out.

"You bitch!" Brenda screamed after her.

Anaya stepped out onto the sidewalk. The Queens air felt lighter.

She got back into the waiting taxi. "New Jersey," she told the driver. "Nana Rose's house."

As the car crossed the bridge, her phone buzzed. A notification from her banking app.

ALERT: Your secondary credit card ending in 4490 has been frozen by the primary account holder.

Barrett. He was cutting off her money. He thought that would bring her crawling back.

Anaya reached into her wallet. She pulled out the black Amex Centurion card. It was heavy, made of titanium.

She rolled down the window. The wind whipped her hair. Below, the East River churned, dark and murky.

She flicked the card. It spun in the air, catching the last rays of the sun, before disappearing into the water. He thinks this is his power over me, she thought with cold satisfaction. He has no idea about the crypto wallet, about the knowledge I hold. This card isn't a lifeline; it's a leash. And I'm cutting it myself.

She had her own money now. She had the knowledge of the next three years of market trends. She didn't need his.

She needed to disappear.