Page 75 of Until We Burn
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 nottogether,”Helen stresses. “We are justcolleagues.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 dosomethingto handle the feeling of everything spiraling out ofmy 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.
