The Price of Their Little Princess

Willow Creek Cemetery was less than a three-hour drive from the Malibu beach house. Tessa and I waited for six hours. Caleb and Julian never came.

After the funeral, Tessa was consumed by grief, crying every day until her eyes were permanently red and swollen.

I fared no better. I woke up screaming from nightmares every night, finding no peace even with sleeping pills.

Meanwhile, Maya was posting a storm on Instagram. In one video, a shirtless Caleb and Julian lounged by the pool of their beach house, smiling indulgently at her.

Maya sat between them, her cheeks flushed, biting her lip as she theatrically rubbed sunscreen on their shoulders for the camera while Julian fed her a strawberry.

The shot cut off at the waist, implying they were all but naked.

The caption read: "Getting a little tired of seeing these perfect bodies all the time. I'm in no rush to leave, but these two are so devoted to my recovery they won't even pick up the phone."

Not long after I saw that post, Maya started a livestream. In it, Caleb was massaging her shoulders while Julian peeled grapes and placed them in her mouth.

She let out soft, contented sighs, her cheeks a perfect shade of pink.

The comment section exploded.

"God, this girl is living the dream! I'd trade places with her in a heartbeat."

"Two gorgeous guys all to herself? So, Maya, which one are you gonna choose?"

"She's a grown woman. Obviously, she'll take them both!"

Maya bit her lip and glanced coyly from one to the other. "I'm so useless. I get a little sad, and I need both of you to make me feel better."

Caleb smiled, patting her head. "Don't be silly. You'll always be our little princess."

Julian nodded earnestly. "Always."

When Tessa saw the livestream, she just broke down.

I grabbed her hand. "Don't cry. They're the ones who should be ashamed. If anyone should be crying, it's them, not us."

I couldn't stand another second of this farce. I grabbed the divorce papers, pulled Tessa into the car, and we flew straight to Los Angeles. We drove to the beach house to confront them.

We were bundled in heavy winter coats, so they didn't even notice our pregnancies were gone.

"I told you I'd be back for the birth. What are you doing here? Clara, Maya's finally starting to feel better. Don't come here and cause trouble, okay? Just go home. I have to make her dinner."

Caleb gave me a weary look and turned to go back inside.

I darted forward and grabbed his arm. "Oh, so you do remember I'm due any day now? You weren't there when I was dying, and you missed our son's funeral. Now I'm standing right in front of you, and you still think making dinner for your mistress is more important?"

Caleb's expression hardened. "What mistress? That's ridiculous. There's nothing between Maya and me. Don't you dare drag her name through the mud. If you're just going to throw around baseless accusations, then we have nothing left to say."

All he'd heard was the word "mistress." In that moment, my heart froze solid.