Her Birthday His Forbidden Desire novel Chapter 13

**Chapter 3**

In the days that followed, with Declan steadfastly remaining by her side each night, Vivienne felt her vitality return, like a flower blooming after a long winter. The oppressive boredom of her home was beginning to grate on her nerves, so she decided to shake things up a bit. Inviting her girlfriends over for afternoon tea became a new ritual.

“Declan totally has feelings for you,” one of her friends gushed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “When you were in that coma, he kept flying back and forth to London. He even swore that if you woke up, he’d divorce his wife for you!”

Just as those words hung in the air, Sloane happened to walk past, catching the tail end of the conversation. The impact of the revelation sliced through her like a jagged blade, leaving her breathless.

With Declan absent from the scene, Vivienne dropped her facade, her voice dripping with fake sweetness and venom. “Sloane, what on earth is this coffee? It tastes like dishwater! Honestly? It’s revolting.”

Sloane’s face remained impassive as she stepped forward to retrieve the offending cup, but before she could act, a hand grasped her wrist tightly.

“What sort of attitude is that? You’re Vivienne’s maid now. If you make her sick, you’ll be on your knees begging for forgiveness—understood?”

At Vivienne’s barely perceptible nod, one of her friends let out a derisive sneer and snapped her fingers.

Before Sloane could process what was happening, the woman yanked her hair, sending a full cup of scalding coffee flying through the air—straight toward her.

“Stop!”

The sudden, furious shout shattered the chaos. Declan had just burst through the door, and his eyes darkened with an intensity that sent shivers down Sloane’s spine as he stormed over, pulling Sloane protectively behind him in one swift motion.

“Who the hell gave you permission to touch her?”

His voice boomed, reverberating through the room, but before the tension could dissipate, Vivienne, who had been watching the scene unfold with a smug smirk, suddenly began to tear up. In one fluid motion, she clutched her stomach as if struck by a sudden wave of pain. “Declan! No—it’s not what it looks like!”

“Don’t blame them; it’s all my fault… Sloane put dairy in my coffee on purpose. I’m in so much pain…”

Declan froze, his gaze shifting toward Sloane, now filled with suspicion—then turning cold as ice.

“Dairy?”

“Sloane, I told you—Vivienne is lactose intolerant!”

Unbelievable. In an instant, one lie from Vivienne turned Declan from her protector into her accuser.

“I didn’t!” Sloane protested, her hair still dripping with coffee, her eyes ablaze with unshed tears.

“She’s faking it!”

But her voice was drowned out by Vivienne’s exaggerated sobs and her friends’ dramatic embellishments, weaving a tapestry of deceit around them.

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