Three days later, Lena Harris disappeared.

Lena Morgan began working at Martha’s Diner.

PART 2 — THE LIFE I BUILT IN SECRET

The diner was small and worn, with cracked booths and a menu that had not changed in decades. But the coffee was strong, the customers were kind, and no one treated me as a joke.

I poured drinks, carried plates, cleaned tables, and slowly remembered what it felt like to be respected for my work.

At night, I sat on Aunt May’s porch and watched the sun sink into the ocean. Gradually, my shoulders relaxed. I began sleeping through the night. I laughed without wondering whether someone was recording me.

Six weeks after my arrival, a stranger stumbled into the diner and collapsed near the counter.

His shirt was dark with blood from an injury at his side. For one frightened second, I thought Kyle had found me and arranged another cruel performance.