Her Birthday His Forbidden Desire novel Chapter 12

**Twilight Carves Destinies by George Orwell**

**Chapter 2**

Sloane stirred awake, disoriented, in the sterile confines of a hospital room. The antiseptic smell clung to the air, a stark reminder of her reality. A young associate lawyer, his brow furrowed in concern, stood beside her bed, his hands nervously adjusting the papers he clutched. “Ms. West,” he began, his voice wavering slightly, “the court has finalized the ruling. You need to focus on your health now—don’t let this consume you.”

The words barely registered as Sloane grappled with the sharp pain radiating from her chest. With a sudden urgency, she sat upright, disregarding the IV needle embedded in her hand. Her heart raced, not just from the physical discomfort but from the weight of her circumstances.

“Can you please check if this paper holds up?” she implored, her voice trembling as she fished a document from her bag, her hands shaking with a mix of fear and determination.

The lawyer took the paper, his eyes scanning the text. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he nodded slowly. “Ms. West, your husband has already signed the divorce papers. Once you add your signature and file it with the court, the divorce will be finalized in approximately thirty to sixty days.”

Her mind flashed back to that very morning, the image of Declan’s face as she had knelt before him, the document trembling in her hands.

Maybe he was too preoccupied with his own life… or perhaps he simply didn’t believe she would actually follow through with her threat to leave.

He had brushed it off, thinking it was just a bluff. Without even glancing at the document, he had scrawled his name across the page.

But he would never truly grasp the depths of her resolve—every word she had spoken was imbued with truth.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Sloane yanked the IV from her arm and bolted from the hospital, her heart pounding with each step as she made her way to City Hall.

Once the paperwork was filed, she felt a strange mixture of relief and sorrow. But there was still one more stop she needed to make—the coast, where the waves whispered secrets and the salty air beckoned her. In the soft drizzle, she knelt on the cold, damp sand, her heart aching as she whispered, “Mom… wherever you are, I’ll find a place by the sea and stay with you forever.”

The only response was the chill of the wind sweeping off the ocean, a haunting reminder of her solitude.

Time slipped away as she knelt there, lost in her grief. When she finally wiped her tears, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number. “Hi. I… I’d like to schedule a staged death and extraction.”

Her voice cracked, but her tone remained resolute, unyielding. “The cause of death will be listed as homicide. I’ll set the scene. All you need to do is rescue me and create a new identity. Then send me abroad.”

This wasn’t merely about a divorce.

In one month, she would ensure he paid for everything he had put her through. And it would be something he would never see coming.

**Chapter 2**

Declan would never forget this moment.

By the time everything was arranged and Sloane returned to the mansion, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the elegantly furnished rooms.

The living room glowed with warm light, and there he was, Declan, seated on the couch, gently spooning chicken soup into Vivienne’s mouth, his demeanor tender and attentive.

“Declan, I uploaded that apology letter online,” Vivienne announced, tilting her head and nestling against him, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Sloane’s been smearing me for so long—let the internet teach her a lesson. You’d better stay out of it.”

Declan swallowed hard, and after a moment of contemplation, he nodded, though his expression was conflicted. “Alright. She made her bed.”

Sloane’s mind raced back to the venomous voices she had encountered online, mocking her mother’s death as if it were deserved, sneering that she was merely a washed-up maid, unworthy of even licking the boots of a woman like Vivienne.

Her chest constricted painfully at the memory. With a blank expression, she stepped into the room.

“Where were you?” Declan’s voice broke through her thoughts, his gaze falling on her pale complexion. His tone softened, a hint of concern creeping in. “What happened to your forehead?”

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