Abby
“Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt,” I say, offering ‘Alex’ a tense smile as I walk up to her and Anton. “I just need to speak with Anton for a moment.”
“Um, sure,” Alex says, scribbling something else on her notepad. “Take your time.”
Throwing her another grin, I snatch Anton by the arm and signal for Karl to follow. I lead them to a secluded corner of the kitchen, away from the prying ears of the mysterious ‘journalist’. My heart pounds in my chest.
“Is everything okay, Abby?” Anton asks, looking a little pale. “I hope I did not say the wrong things—”
“No, Anton, you were great,” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder at Alex, who is staring at the dishwasher and scribbling furiously on her notepad. “It’s the ‘journalist’. She’s a fake.”
“A fake?” Anton asks.
Karl takes out
