Chapter 2

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 what fairness actually looks like."

My mother put a hand on my shoulder. She smelled like expensive perfume and cold calculation. "We're doing this for your own good, Valentina. Indulging you would only ruin your character."

I smiled. It barely moved my mouth.

"I understand."

After the signatures, my father's mood lifted. "Let's eat. I had the kitchen prepare Brittany's favorites. My girl needs a treat."

The dining table filled with platters. Alaskan king crab. Braised abalone. Foie gras. A sashimi tower arranged like a sculpture. All of it Brittany's picks.

My stomach cramped audibly. I moved toward a chair.

For three months, I'd eaten in the staff kitchen. Leftovers. Cold cuts. Food that arrived at the table intact and was scraped into Tupperware an hour later. I hadn't tasted a fresh meal in this house since the night I arrived.

But the System was active now. If resources had to be equal—

Marcus blocked me, his arm a bar across my chest. "Whoa. This is a family dinner. You're not part of this. Go to your room."

"I have the right to eat here. Same as Brittany. Refusing me would be unequal treatment."

Brittany's eyes glistened. No tears yet—just the threat of them, perfectly calibrated.

My mother's face softened toward her. Then she turned to me with a different expression entirely. "Valentina, she's still not comfortable eating with you. Seeing you upsets her. Can't you just take your plate to your room? Like always?"

"No. I want to eat here. Now."

My father hurled his chopsticks. They skittered across the polished wood and hit the floor. "You want to test me? You think you can—"

His hand never reached my face.

His body seized, spine snapping backward, and he hit the floor with a sound that echoed off the vaulted ceiling. The tremors ran through him in waves.

My mother dropped a second later. The electricity made a sound like static in wet air.

"Dad! Mom!" Brittany and Marcus rushed forward. The moment their fingers touched our parents, they caught shocks of their own—Marcus jerking his arm back with a hiss, Brittany stumbling into a chair.

For three minutes, no one could do anything but watch.

When it stopped, my father clawed his way upright. His face had aged a decade. "What the hell did they put in us? It can't just—electrocute us for nothing!"

"Brittany Costello has been served a full dinner at the family table. Valentina Costello has been instructed to eat leftovers in her quarters. This constitutes severe favoritism."

"System-administered current produces pain without lasting injury. Escalation up to level-ten pain index is authorized when necessary."

My father's breath came ragged. "Brittany gave up her place for that girl. She sacrificed plenty. Asking Valentina to eat separately is basic consideration—what kind of broken system punishes consideration? I'm getting it removed."

"All interpretive authority belongs to the System."

"Contract duration: lifetime. No early termination option available."

My mother's voice was smaller than I'd ever heard it. "What level was that?"

"Level five."

I watched them absorb this information. Watched the fear settle into their bones. Level five. Halfway up the scale. Halfway.

Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed behind my ribs.

This system was going to be magnificent.

My mother gestured weakly at an empty chair. "It's just dinner. Sit down. Eat."

I took my place at the table. The lobster had gone cold, but I didn't care.

What I cared about was the question forming in my mind: What else can I ask for?