Marcus's father, Dean, arrived. Marcus had told him I was threatening the legacy. Dean looked at my green dress and recognized it immediately. He had once complained that my mother charged too much to alter his work coats. She had replied that sturdy seams cost less than replacing a coat.

Dean said the store had always passed from father to son. I asked him to name the rule requiring it. He pointed to history. I pointed through the office window at Tessa mixing paint for a customer while Marcus searched for a formula she already knew. I showed him June's inventory dashboard, which had reduced missing stock by half. I reminded him that I had refinanced my mother's shop to fund our expansion.

Marcus accused me of keeping score. I told him records were not scores; they were the truth of who had built value. Then June walked into the office. She had come for a recommendation letter from a supplier. When she saw the three of us, she nearly backed out. I invited her to sit and asked whether she wanted the store someday. She said she had wanted to modernize it until the hospital made her feel foolish for imagining it.

Her honesty silenced Dean. Marcus tried to explain that he had meant Noah would carry the surname. June replied that she carried it too. She handed me her key and said she had accepted an internship with a regional retailer instead.

After she left, I told Marcus I would not force June to return or teach our daughters to audition for belonging. I proposed an independent succession process, paid roles with documented responsibilities, and a family council after Noah was old enough to express any interest at all. Until then, no child would be promised ownership. Dean called the idea corporate nonsense. I answered that family sentiment had just driven away our most capable worker. If preserving a custom required losing the people who sustained it, then the custom was not a legacy. It was a leak.