Chapter 3 - What Nathan Wanted
By afternoon, the blue notebook was no longer in Ethan’s bedroom.
David photographed every page, placed the original in a document envelope and drove with Ethan directly to the office of Rachel’s estate attorney, Claire Donnelly.
Claire was not family.
But she had known Rachel long enough to skip condolences and start asking useful questions.
“Who else knows you found this?”
“Principal Ward,” David said. “Not the notebook specifically. Just that Rachel left project materials.”
“Dr. Cole?”
“No.”
“Mrs. Mercer?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She read page eighty-seven twice.
Then the email.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Did Rachel ever discuss intellectual property with you?”
David laughed bitterly.
“Rachel discussed intellectual property with me the way I discuss electrical code with her. She assumed I understood more than I did.”
Claire looked at Ethan.
“What about you?”
“Not really.”
“Then we start simple.”
She pulled a legal pad closer.
LIGHTBRIDGE was not a university project merely because Nathan had discussed it with Rachel.
Ownership depended on how it was developed, what resources were used, employment agreements, contributions and other factors.
Rachel had not worked for Whitmore University.
She was employed by a private automation firm called Paragon Controls.
The prototype had been built at home using personal materials.
Ethan had written much of the firmware.
Rachel had designed several technical elements.
“If she created work with you,” Claire said, “her share may now belong to her estate unless she transferred it.”
“Did she?” Ethan asked.
“That’s what we determine.”
David looked worried.
“Could Paragon own it?”
“Possibly, depending on her employment agreement and whether this relates to her assigned work.”
Ethan’s stomach dropped.
Claire raised a hand.
“Possibly does not mean probably.”
That distinction would become important.
Rachel’s notebook contained dates.
Sketches.
Failures.
Purchases.
Notes identifying exactly what Ethan had contributed.
She had documented the work like an engineer.
Nathan’s claim of “institutional contribution” appeared repeatedly in email printouts.
Whitmore’s Youth Innovation Center had allowed Rachel and Ethan to use an oscilloscope during an open community lab night.
Nathan apparently believed that gave the university leverage.
Rachel disagreed.
Strongly.
One note read:
Using a library printer doesn’t make the library your coauthor.
Ethan almost smiled.
That sounded like her.
Claire closed the notebook.
“I want to know what ‘already tried once’ means.”
So did Ethan.
At school, Mrs. Mercer had been placed on administrative leave.
Principal Ward sent parents a bland message announcing an investigation into “classroom conduct and academic integrity concerns.”
Within an hour, students had posted rumors anyway.
By dinner, someone had uploaded a photograph of the destroyed project.
By night, local parents were arguing online.
Some called for Mercer’s firing.
Others claimed Ethan was exploiting his mother’s death.
David took his phone away.
“I’m sixteen.”
“You’re grieving and angry.”
“I can handle comments.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
Ethan stared at him.
David sighed.
“Fine. That sounded like I was making the decision for you.”
“Yes.”
“Can I strongly recommend not reading strangers debating whether your mother’s death makes you sympathetic enough?”
That made Ethan laugh despite himself.
“Fine.”
The next morning, Lucas Vale came to the Bennett house.
Ethan almost refused to open the door.
Lucas stood on the porch holding a laptop.
“I found something.”
“What?”
“I think Mrs. Mercer has been giving me stolen work for months.”
Ethan’s anger changed shape.
David invited him inside.
Lucas opened folders from his competition files.
Annotated research summaries.
Circuit diagrams.
Suggested language.
Mrs. Mercer had sent them over the school year.
Lucas had assumed they were examples from prior students or public sources.
Now he had searched phrases.
Some belonged to papers.
Some to old student projects.
One diagram was unmistakable.
Ethan recognized Rachel’s handwriting beneath a cropped edge.
He stood.
“Where did you get this?”
“Mrs. Mercer sent it in October.”
That was before Rachel died.
The image showed an early LIGHTBRIDGE sensor module.
Ethan looked at the date.
October 14.
His mother had still been undergoing treatment.
“Did she say where it came from?”
Lucas shook his head.
“She called it a reference architecture.”
Ethan wanted to hate him.
It would have been easier.
But Lucas looked sick.
“My dad wants me to delete everything.”
David looked up sharply.
“He said what?”
“He says until the school finishes investigating, I shouldn’t have copies of questionable material.”
“That sounds convenient,” Ethan said.
Lucas nodded.
“That’s why I came here first.”
He had already exported the full message history and saved it to an external drive.
David stared at him.
“You understand this could affect your competition record.”
“Yes.”
“And possibly your father.”
Lucas’s jaw tightened.
“I know.”
Ethan looked at him differently.
“What was in the second video after Nathan?”
Lucas swallowed.
“Sofia didn’t play all of it.”
“Why?”
“She got scared.”
“Of what?”
“My dad.”
Ethan went still.
Lucas opened another file.
“Sofia sent me a copy this morning.”
The video began where the classroom clip had ended.
Nathan stood beside LIGHTBRIDGE.
Mrs. Mercer was near the desk.
Then a third person entered.
Grant Vale.
Lucas’s father.
School board member.
Chief executive of Vale Medical Systems.
Grant walked directly to the project.
He looked at Nathan.
“That’s Bennett’s?”
Nathan nodded.
Grant examined the model.
“Can Lucas reproduce it?”
Mrs. Mercer said, “With guidance.”
Grant replied, “Good.”
Lucas stopped the video.
His eyes were wet.
“I didn’t know.”
Ethan could not speak.
Lucas restarted it.
Grant’s next words filled the Bennett living room.
“The Whitmore partnership depends on us having a finalist. I don’t care whose cardboard box it started in.”
David rose slowly from his chair.
But Nathan’s response was worse.
“It didn’t start in the cardboard.”
Grant frowned.
“Where did it start?”
Nathan looked down at LIGHTBRIDGE.
“With Rachel.”
He touched one of the broken-prone roof panels.
May you like
“And she died before I could make her understand what it was worth.”
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