Chapter 7 - Why Paige Had Stayed Quiet for Six Months
Lauren’s father had died of pancreatic cancer two years before Sophie was born.
Thomas Mercer had been nothing like Vivian.
He taught high school economics for thirty-one years.
Owned six ties.
Drove the same Honda until the floor mats developed holes.
He believed expensive watches existed primarily to make punctual people nervous.
Lauren adored him.
So did Paige.
And neither daughter had ever heard him mention Within House.
Paige stared at the filing.
“Dad?”
Lauren whispered:
“He never started a company.”
Rachel said:
“He filed an intent-to-use trademark personally.”
“For what?”
“Education materials, household organizational products, financial literacy materials, printed planners, workshops.”
Lauren sat back.
Those categories were remarkably close to her original concept.
“Did he copy me?”
The question hurt her to ask.
“No,” Paige said immediately.
“How do you know?”
“Because of the date.”
Thomas filed eight months before Lauren drafted her first notebook.
Nobody spoke.
Then Paige began crying.
Not loudly.
She covered her mouth and turned away.
Lauren saw her.
“What?”
Paige shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Paige.”
“I said nothing.”
“You know.”
“No.”
“You always do this.”
Paige stood.
“Do what?”
“Decide for me what I can handle.”
“That is not fair.”
“Then tell me why you’re crying.”
Paige looked at me.
Then Rachel.
Then her sister.
Finally:
“Dad talked to me about it.”
Lauren’s face went blank.
“When?”
“Before he got sick.”
“You knew?”
“Not about Mom’s company.”
“About Within.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
Paige wiped her face.
“Six months.”
Lauren stared at her.
“You’ve known for six months?”
“I found the filing after Mom mentioned Legacy Within.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I thought she had bought it from Dad’s estate.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because Mom handled most of the estate.”
Lauren laughed in disbelief.
“Dad talked to you about a project and you never told me.”
“He told me not to.”
That stopped everyone.
“What?”
Paige sat down again.
“He was working on something after retirement.”
“Why secretly?”
“It wasn’t secret.”
“Apparently it was from me.”
“You were at Franklin Consumer then. You were traveling constantly. Dad thought you were building your own life.”
“That explains why he didn’t tell me. Why did he tell you?”
“Because I was helping him with communications.”
Lauren looked wounded.
Paige continued quickly.
“It was tiny. Notes. Workshops. He wanted to teach families how unpaid caregiving and paid work affect financial independence.”
Lauren’s expression changed.
That sounded familiar.
Very familiar.
Paige nodded.
“He hated the way people talked about caregiving as if it had no economic value.”
Lauren sat down slowly.
“He and I talked about that.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because he told me.”
Lauren’s eyes filled.
Paige continued.
“He said you were the one who made him think about it differently.”
Lauren looked toward the ceiling.
For a moment, grief replaced anger.
“My father used my idea?”
“No.”
Paige reached into her bag.
“I think you both built parts of the same idea without realizing how much you were influencing each other.”
She removed a folded sheet of paper.
“I found this after he died.”
Lauren unfolded it.
Thomas’s handwriting.
A list.
Within House
Teach financial dignity, not fear.
Care work counts.
Leaving a job should not mean leaving your identity.
Returning to a job should not mean apologizing for home.
At the bottom:
Ask Lauren about brand architecture. She understands this better than I do.
Lauren pressed her fingers to her mouth.
Paige cried harder.
“He was going to ask you.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“Diagnosis.”
Thomas had been diagnosed in February.
Dead by November.
Plans became treatments.
Brand ideas became medication charts.
Life got smaller very quickly.
Lauren folded the page carefully.
“Did Mom know?”
Paige nodded.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Dad showed her the filing.”
“And what did she think?”
“She hated it.”
That surprised us.
“Why?”
“She said it was sentimental.”
Lauren almost smiled.
“That sounds like Mom.”
“She told him nobody pays for reassurance.”
“What did Dad say?”
Paige gave a tearful laugh.
“He said she had just described most of the luxury industry.”
Even I smiled.
Then Paige’s expression changed.
“There’s something else.”
Of course there was.
“After Dad died, Mom asked me for every file.”
“What did you give her?”
“Everything I had.”
Lauren looked at the Legacy Within investor deck.
“So Mom didn’t only take from me.”
“No.”
“She combined Dad’s work with mine.”
“I think so.”
“And turned it into the exact thing Dad warned against.”
Paige nodded.
Lauren stared at the tiny apron.
“Sell fear back to women as empowerment.”
“Yes.”
Rachel cleared her throat.
“Did Thomas leave ownership instructions?”
Paige shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“What did the estate inventory list?”
“I never saw the complete version.”
Lauren looked up.
“Why not?”
“Mom was executor.”
“Were we beneficiaries?”
“Yes.”
“What did we receive?”
“Cash accounts. Personal items. The house passed to Mom.”
“Intellectual property?”
Paige hesitated.
“Not separately identified.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“That matters.”
Lauren asked:
“Why?”
“If Thomas owned creative work or trademarks at death and they weren’t specifically assigned, ownership may have passed under the estate documents.”
“To Mom?”
“Possibly. Possibly to multiple beneficiaries. I need the will.”
Lauren had a copy upstairs.
Ten minutes later, Rachel was reading it.
Thomas left personal property and the marital home to Vivian.
Financial accounts were divided.
Then Article Seven.
All copyrights, manuscripts, teaching materials, unpublished writings, inventions, trademarks, business concepts, and other intellectual property owned by me at death shall pass in equal shares to my daughters, Lauren Mercer Hart and Paige Mercer Ellis.
Paige stared.
Lauren read it again.
“Equal shares.”
Rachel nodded.
“If Within House belonged to your father when he died, Vivian may never have owned it.”
Lauren looked toward Paige.
Then at the Legacy Within company documents.
Vivian had told investors she created the underlying framework.
She had placed Lauren inside a trust.
She had used Sophie's image.
And now it appeared she might have built the company partly from property inherited by the two daughters she had never consulted.
Paige whispered:
“She knew the will.”
“Of course she did,” Lauren said.
“She was executor.”
Rachel’s phone buzzed.
She opened an email.
Then went still.
“What?” I asked.
“Someone just sent me the estate closing packet.”
“Who?”
“No message.”
She opened the attachment.
The inventory listed the trademark.
WITHIN HOUSE — abandoned / no market value.
Disposition:
Transferred pursuant to Article Seven.
Lauren and Paige.
Both.
Then Rachel scrolled to the acknowledgment page.
There were signatures for both sisters.
Paige leaned closer.
“That isn’t mine.”
Lauren looked at hers.
“Mine either.”
Two signatures.
Two forged acknowledgments.
May you like
And underneath them was the name of the witness who supposedly watched both sisters sign.
Vivian Mercer.
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