Penelope's POV

The hardest part of recovery was the days that looked fine from the outside. I could smile across a council table and follow the agenda and make good arguments about trade policy, and then drive home afterward with my hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly because a truck had pulled up alongside me at a red light and the driver had gray hair and for one fractured second my whole nervous system had screamed Viktor. It wasn't Viktor. It was a man in his sixties with a ...