They Called It Fairness

The system liaison arrived within forty-eight hours. He was a government man in a neutral suit, carrying a tablet with a retinal scanner attached."To ensure proper function, all family assets will be deeply integrated with the Fairness architecture. The System will evaluate parental behavior toward each child and adjust resource allocation accordingly."My father, who ran the family's legitimate holdings, reached for the contract. "I'd like my legal team to review—"Marcus grabbed the stylus and scrawled his signature across the screen. "It's a government system, Dad. It's fine. You want Brittany to keep suffering? Sign!"My father hesitated. My mother didn't.I read every page. Every clause. Every footnote. When I was satisfied, I signed my name carefully, the way I'd been taught in a school that didn't have enough textbooks.Marcus snorted. "Always with the tragic expression. Anyone would think we'd been torturing you. You've been cashing in since the day you got here—now you'll see

I knew Brittany well enough by now to take her threats seriously.At St. Augustine's Prep, she maintained her social position the way our father maintained his business interests—through a network of favors, implied threats, and occasional acts of public humiliation. I'd watched her reduce a sophomore to tears for wearing a dress similar to hers. I'd seen her friends pour ink into backpacks, spread rumors that got people ostracized, create an ecosystem of fear that everyone pretended not to notice.So when I walked to the garage the next morning and found the Bentley's back seat drenched in red paint, I wasn't surprised.Brittany stood by the passenger door, dressed in pressed linen, her expression arranged into theatrical regret. "Oh no. I was going to offer you a ride, but there's been an accident. Paint everywhere. Such a shame."Marcus tossed me a folding umbrella. "Mom and Dad both took the other cars. You'll have to walk." He paused, the pause of someone checking for loopholes. "

The front door opened fifteen minutes later.Two officers stepped into the foyer, their faces arranged in the careful neutrality of people who'd rather be anywhere else. Brittany rushed toward them before they'd finished crossing the threshold."That's her." She pointed at me. "Valentina Costello. She tampered with school records to inflate her grades and defraud the government equity system."My mother's hand flew to her chest. "Is this true?""I saw it myself," Brittany said. "Three consecutive assessments. Bottom of the class. Every single one. There's no way she earned a top ranking without manipulating the data." She turned back to the officers. "She probably bribed someone in the registrar's office. Or hacked the database. I want her arrested."The older officer—his badge read Devereux—held up a hand. "Slow down. We don't arrest people on conjecture. We need to understand what we're looking at first.""I'm happy to explain," I said. "The three failed assessments are real. But the

I should have told her to leave.I should have pressed the button, said no, and gone back to my university applications. Every instinct I'd developed over the past year—every lesson this family had taught me—screamed at me to keep the door locked.But something in her voice gave me pause. I'd heard my mother sound many things—dismissive, calculating, coldly affectionate. I'd never heard her sound desperate.I buzzed her up.She stood in my doorway like a stranger who'd wandered into the wrong apartment. Her hair, usually styled into sleek submission, hung limp around her shoulders. Her clothes were off the rack—still expensive, but not bespoke. Her jewelry was gone except for her wedding ring, which looked looser than I remembered."Valentina." Her eyes filled with tears. "My baby. You've been alone out here. I've been so worried."She reached for me. I stepped back."What do you want, Catherine?"The name landed like a slap. She'd always been "Mom" to me—even when she didn't deserve i

The investigation moved fast. Partly because the evidence was overwhelming—the Fairness System had been recording everything, location data and biometrics and communication logs that painted an ugly picture. Partly because Kowalski, the moment he was offered a deal, began singing like a canary in a cage full of cats.The charges piled up. Kidnapping. Conspiracy to commit trafficking. Assault with a deadly weapon. My father's business records were subpoenaed, and what emerged was even uglier than anyone expected—decades of bribery, money laundering, and backroom deals that had nothing to do with me.Enzo Costello was sentenced to death.Catherine Costello received fifteen years. Marcus, ten. Brittany, as a minor tried in juvenile court, would be in a detention facility until she turned twenty-one, then transferred to adult prison for another five.Kowalski took a plea deal that landed him in a maximum-security cell for the rest of his natural life. The prosecution didn't have to work ha