CHAPTER 3

Davina’s pov

I sat in the cold, dimly lit cell, replaying the events at the restaurant in my mind. How had it come to this? Ending up in jail was the last thing I ever expected. 

Why did the woman I once called "Mother" hate me so much? The question burned in my mind as I leaned back against the wall, letting the memories drag me to a time when I was just a child.  

---

I was in a grand living room, the kind of place you’d see in magazines. My eyes wandered over the ornate furniture and glimmering chandelier, but none of it felt familiar. In truth, nothing did—not the house, not the people, not even myself.  

All I remembered was waking up in a hospital bed with a man and a woman watching me nervously. Now, here I was in their home, sipping on a juice box the woman had handed me.  

“Hey, sweetheart,” she said gently, her voice warm but cautious. She watched me as if I might break at any moment.  

“Hi,” I mumbled, taking another sip.  

“Do you remember anything? What happened to you?” she asked, her brows knitting together in concern.  

I shook my head. The question made no sense to me. Shouldn’t she already know?  

The man and woman exchanged uneasy glances, but at my age, I didn’t think much of it. I was more curious than worried.  

“Are you my mummy?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. My heart pounded as I waited for her answer, hoping she would say yes.  

She hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the man before she replied.  

“Yes, my dear. I’m your mum. Don’t you remember?”  

I tilted my head, searching for anything—any fragment of memory to prove her right. But there was nothing.  

I turned to the man, who had been quiet the whole time, his face unreadable. “If she’s my mum, then… you’re my dad?”  

His lips curved into a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes,” he said softly, nodding.  

A wave of relief washed over me. “Mummy! Daddy!” I said, testing the words out loud. They felt strange, but also comforting.  

“What’s my name?” I asked, looking between them.  

Their eyes met again, and for a moment, I saw hesitation.  

“Your name,” the woman said finally, “is Davina. Davina Angelina Stewart.”  

---

That was the beginning of my life as a Stewart. At first, everything was perfect. My mum adored me, and my dad seemed to love me even more. I couldn’t have asked for a better life.  

I had everything a child could want—delicious food, endless toys, the best school in town, and all the sleep I could ever need. Mum treated me like her little queen, dressing me in pretty outfits and showering me with attention.  

Even the other kids in the neighborhood envied me. To everyone else, I was living a dream.  

      A year after, Mum gave birth to Courtney, my beautiful baby sister. I was overflowing with joy. I couldn’t wait for her to grow up so we could spend our days playing Barbie and throwing tea parties.  

But Courtney’s arrival brought a change in Mum—a change I didn’t understand at the time. Suddenly, I wasn’t her little girl anymore. I became "Davina."  

Mum ignored me, refusing to do the things she used to enjoy with me. Dad would try to explain it away, saying she was just tired from taking care of Courtney. He’d do his best to make up for it, buying me gifts, taking me to the park, even if Mum disapproved.  

As Courtney grew up, Mum’s attitude didn’t improve—it only got worse. Courtney was the new princess, Mum’s queen, and I was reduced to a bystander in my own family.  

No matter how hard I worked—whether it was excelling at school or pouring my energy into extracurricular activities—it was never enough for her. I didn’t understand the source of her disdain, but it cut deep. Even laughing with Courtney in the house felt like a risk.  

Courtney, on the other hand, didn’t have to try. She was effortlessly the best in Mum’s eyes, rewarded at every turn. By the time we entered middle school, it was glaringly obvious—I wasn’t the favorite child. I began to accept it.  

The only time I felt like I belonged was when Dad was around. His love never wavered. It became my refuge, even when Courtney complained about feeling less loved by him.  

As we grew older, things worsened. Courtney bossed me around, and if I dared to stand up for myself, Mum punished me. I felt invisible—like my feelings didn’t matter. Did they ever?  

Then came the truth. I was adopted.  

The revelation was a painful one, but it explained so much. It explained why I always felt like an outsider in my own home.  

Courtney and I drifted even further apart. She was not only Mum’s favorite but eventually became Dad’s as well. And then, Sebastian came into our lives.  

Sebastian was a family friend. We were teenagers when he fell for Courtney, though she never returned his feelings. Meanwhile, I developed a huge crush on him. He was the most handsome boy I’d ever met, charismatic and popular. But to him, I was just a friend.  

When Courtney found out about my feelings, she decided to date him—just to hurt me.  

Watching them together was torture. Their relationship was rocky, but they got engaged despite the cracks. Courtney didn’t love him. She hurt him repeatedly, and Sebastian often came to me for comfort.  

One night, after Courtney threw him out of the house, he came to me drunk and vulnerable. I should have stopped him, but I didn’t. That night changed everything. I got pregnant.  

Our families forced us to marry. I became Mrs. Campbell while Courtney left for school abroad. I had to navigate a new reality—a marriage that began with betrayal.  

As the wife of the Campbell family, I poured myself into the business. With my PhD in Business Administration, I turned the company into a powerhouse, closing deals and making waves in the corporate world.  

Sebastian and I grew closer after our baby was born. For a time, it felt like we could make it work. But tragedy struck. We lost our baby.  

The grief was unbearable. It tore us apart. Sebastian withdrew, growing cold and distant. I threw myself into work, keeping the company afloat while he played the part of a successful CEO. In truth, he leaned on me for everything.  

Then Courtney came back after years away. She wasn’t in love with Sebastian—she never had been. But now she was pregnant with his child.  

Why? Was this her way of avenging the past? The questions haunted me, and the answers felt just out of reach.  

The cell was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent light. I sat on the cold bench, unable to sleep as the events of that fateful night replayed in my mind.  

Then, the sound of keys jangling broke the silence. The door creaked open, and a guard stepped in.  

“Your lawyer is here,” he said gruffly.  

I blinked in surprise. “My lawyer?”