Chapter 31
DIANA
I knew being friends with benefits would have its complications.
No matter how many rules we put between us, it doesn’t change the fact that I still ache for Kai the same way I did in first year. Even more so now that Kai is no longer just a daydream. He’s a secret I can reach for and disappear into any time I’m stressed.
But I can’t forget that moment on his bed yesterday. If Kai had leaned in any closer, I would’ve—
Don’t go there.
You’re both here for sex relief and nothing more.
Whatever Kai is feeling is none of your business because you know the consequences of ever giving in and being with him.
I try to push the rest of my focus onto the tasks on my agenda.
Back at the Fairmont, I finish my readings, look over the finalized clips for the next newscast, and devote the rest of my Sunday evening to editing the copy of next week’s issue of the Howler.
It’s already gone through rounds of editing by the section editors, copy editor, and peer editor.
By that time, it’s polished enough to be circulated online and on paper.
But I need this issue to be the best no matter how small and dwindling it is compared to the others.
Despite the rumors, I want to prove to the board and the student body that I can still do a good job as editor-in-chief of the Howler.
“Miss Diana, you need to eat.”
The scent of pork dumplings and spicy, scrambled tomato fried eggs drifts into the dining room. Helen eases aside the papers and textbooks on the table to put our dinner down.
My eyes narrow at my laptop screen. “I’ll eat in a minute.”
“You said that a minute ago.”
“Because I wasn’t hungry yet and I’m not hungry now.”
My stomach growls.
Helen shoots me a stern, pointed look. I begrudgingly slip my hands off my laptop and take the bowl of rice she offers.
Helen settles down across from me in her pink Anpanman apron.
“Lai, lai—” Here, here. She beckons for my bowl before she scoops a big helping of fried eggs and dumplings over the bed of rice.
The first bite has my eyes nearly rolling to the back of my head. The dumplings are so savory and crisp, and the eggs practically melt on my tongue.
I was fully intent on living on my own, but Helen was adamant about coming along.
I kindly told your fat-headed father that you must be well-fed if you’re going to reflect on your mistakes and prove you’re worthy to lead the HMG.
I’m grateful she marched her way in here. With her home-cooked meals and her calm spirit, Helen makes this hollow suite feel like a home.
I bite down on a crispy dumpling. “How was your day?”
“It was alright.” Helen shrugs. “I got some flowers from the store.”
I eye the bouquet by the door, smiling knowingly at the little note bound to one of the stems. “The store?” I drawl. “Is that what we’re calling Hans now?”
Helen rolls her eyes. “Pardon me for trying to keep things professional.”
“My brothers and sister backstabbed me to further their careers. There’s no such thing as professionalism in the Huang household.” I spear my chopstick through another dumpling. “I promise I won’t tell anyone about you and Hans. I think it’s wonderful you’re together.”
“We are not together,” Helen stresses. “We are just colleagues. The only reason Hans bought me the flowers was because he knew I liked gardenias and they’re hard to grow on your own. Hans was being considerate.”
“I don’t need my thesaurus to know ‘considerate’ is not the right word.”
I giggle as Helen playfully bats my hand with her chopsticks. She then plucks up a wad of fried eggs and waggles it accusingly at me. “What about you? What have you been up to?”
“Just the usual,” I dismiss. “Doing interviews with sources, planning the demise of my enemies.”
I place down my chopsticks and reach for my phone. I refresh my email, hoping to see CatchCo’s response.
Nothing.
I fidget in my seat. Worry vises around my neck, tightening its grip. Sadie said they had fast processing times, but technology is still fickle. Maybe my request glitched and disappeared from the system.
My grip tightens on my phone. CatchCo is the only thing I have to prove that I didn't leak those photos and text messages between Sasha and Gregory. If I don’t have CatchCo’s help, there’s nothing I can do to get myself out of this mess.
I will always be known as the insane heiress who leaked a private relationship.
I will never be seen the same way again.
I will never get my life back.
“Miss Diana?” Helen frowns. “Are you alright?”
I swallow hard, my hand growing numb from how tightly it grips my phone. “Y-Yes,” I breathe out. “Yes, I-I just, um–”
She glides my glass of water closer to me. “Take a sip.”
“No, I need to get back to work.” I spring to my feet and gather the dishes.
Helen shakes her head, rising to help me. “Miss Diana, I can do that for you.”
“It’s fine.”
I carry the dishes to the sink. I run them in warm water before putting them in the dishwasher, one after another.
I just need to move and do something to handle the feeling of everything spiraling out of my control.
I want to call Kai, but I know he’s busy putting the final touches on his business presentation for the Pacific Observer.
“This stupid little—” A piece of green onion sticks to the bowl. I irritably pick at it, trying to scrape it off under the stream of hot water.
Helen’s hand suddenly comes over mine. I look up at her. Her eyes are stern, yet soft.
I got it.
I reluctantly step away from the sink and let her take over.
Suddenly, my phone goes off.
Oh my god.
I rush back to the table, hope and nerves clamoring wildly inside of me. I frantically dab my wet hands on my jeans before I scramble for my phone.
It’s not an email from CatchCo.
It’s from the Howler’s Board of Directors.
There are so many words and dates and bullet points. But one sentence stands out stark and clear.
Due to recent events and concerns raised by the majority of regular contributors, the board has decided to dismiss you as editor-in-chief of the Howler.