Her Birthday His Forbidden Desire novel Chapter 11

**Twilight Carves Destinies**

**Chapter 1**

It all began with a mere accident—a fleeting brush of her mother against the exquisite fabric of the gown worn by the city’s most affluent heiress. In a matter of moments, Sloane West’s world was shattered. Her mother was violently dragged away, limbs broken and spirit crushed, only to be unceremoniously discarded into the unforgiving depths of the sea.

When Sloane finally mustered the courage to press charges against that insufferably arrogant debutante, the courtroom’s judgment fell like a heavy stone. The verdict? Not guilty. The reason? The defense attorney was none other than Declan Hawthorne, the founder of Riverstone’s most prestigious law firm—and Sloane’s own husband.

As the trial concluded, the composed and aristocratic Declan, with his piercing cold eyes, stepped away from the defendant’s table. He placed a letter of apology directly in front of Sloane, the weight of it almost suffocating.

“Sloane, just sign it. You wouldn’t want to face a slander lawsuit and end up behind bars, would you?” His voice was smooth and persuasive, yet behind those gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze was as sharp as a knife, cutting through her resolve.

Sloane felt a surge of defiance as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. “Why, Declan?” Her voice quivered, a mixture of confusion and anger. How could he do this to her?

She was his wife—the woman he had once loved so fiercely that he had renounced his inheritance and endured the scorn of the Hawthorne family just to be with her, his former caregiver. Yet, after the tragic death of her mother, she had pleaded with him time and again, tears streaming down her cheeks. Just that morning, she had knelt at his feet, desperation clawing at her throat, threatening divorce if he wouldn’t drop the case against the heiress.

And what had he said in response? “Don’t push me, Sloane.”

Declan loosened his tie, frustration evident in his demeanor. “Vivienne is different. She pursued me for ten long years. She saved my life once.”

“I owe her. I have to protect her—even if it means turning against you, the woman I love most.” His words hung in the air, heavy with betrayal.

He tapped on his tablet, bringing up a live stream and turning the screen toward her, as if it were a weapon aimed at her heart. “You have two minutes. If not for yourself, do it for your mother. Sign the apology, and I’ll return her ashes to you.”

On the screen, a yacht bobbed in the open sea, and several bodyguards held a mahogany urn precariously over the railing, ready to release it into the abyss at any moment.

Sloane’s heart shattered as tears streamed down her face. “What are you doing?”

He remained unmoved, his expression cold and calculating. “Be reasonable. Don’t waste time. Are you really going to let your mother drift in the ocean forever?”

“Declan!” Her voice rose, raw with fury. “I want a divorce!”

But in this unyielding confrontation, he stood firm, an unfeeling statue. “Sloane, you have thirty seconds left.”

In that moment, her heart twisted painfully, as if it had been stabbed. How ironic it all was—this was the man who had once loved her as if she were his very lifeblood.

Eight years ago, he had fallen for her at first sight amidst the grandeur of the Hawthorne estate. She had been working as his grandfather’s caregiver, their worlds so vastly different that it seemed impossible. Yet, he had professed his love to her repeatedly, over and over, a hundred times at least.

Once, he had noticed her gaze lingering on a patch of bellflowers, and that very night, he had replaced every rose in the garden just to see her smile. When she had twisted her ankle, he had booked an entire hospital floor just for her comfort.

But that was also when she discovered the shadow looming over their love—Vivienne Blake, his childhood friend and the heiress of one of Riverstone’s wealthiest families. Vivienne had pursued him relentlessly, her obsession palpable.

Yet Declan had never once looked in her direction. “Sloane, I love only you. So what if Vivienne and I are ‘a perfect social match’? I can’t stand her.”

The Hawthorne family had tried to force him into submission. They stripped him of his shares and exiled him to a private island far from home. In defiance, he had gone on a hunger strike for twenty grueling days, a desperate plea to the outside world—and it had worked. He had moved Sloane’s heart.

They had married, and for a time, he had truly loved her as he promised.

But everything shifted six months ago when Vivienne returned from abroad, and suddenly, Declan’s demeanor toward her had changed dramatically. He canceled international meetings just to pick her up from the airport, and for her welcome-home party, he had stayed out for three consecutive nights.

When Sloane confronted him, he finally revealed the truth. “A year ago in London, I was in a car crash. Vivienne saved me—she was in a coma for a year because of it.”

“Sloane, I love you. But she just woke up. I need to repay her. Just give me a year, okay?”

Initially, she had believed him.

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