(Lily POV)The diner's fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as I refilled coffee for the third time in ten minutes. My swollen feet ached in the cheap sneakers I'd bought at a thrift store. My back screamed with every movement. At seven months pregnant, I shouldn't be doing this kind of work. But I didn't have a choice.

"More coffee, Emma?" The regular at table four, a kind elderly man who always tipped well held up his cup.

Emma. That was my name now. Emma Clarke. Not Lily Morrison. Not the woman ...