Her Birthday His Forbidden Desire novel Chapter 20

**Twilight Carves Destinies by George Orwell**

**Chapter 10**

As dawn broke, soft rays of light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. A tender, almost ethereal sensation brushed against Declan’s chest, reminiscent of a featherlight kiss—warm enough to linger, yet fleeting.

Still caught in the haze of sleep, he instinctively tightened his embrace around the figure nestled against him, his fingers curling around what he thought was Sloane’s hand. His voice emerged from the depths of his affection, rough yet tender.

“Sloane… don’t tease…”

But as soon as the words slipped from his lips, an icy jolt of realization coursed through him.

That hand…

Sloane had dedicated her life to caring for others, once working as a home nurse and caretaker. The struggles she faced were etched into her very being; her hands bore the evidence of her hard life—calluses that were thin yet persistent, as if time itself had taken a chisel to her skin. Even after he had showered her with love and commissioned a special hand cream just for her, those calluses remained, stubbornly refusing to fade.

In the quiet hours of the night, he would trace those rough fingertips, feeling only tenderness and warmth.

But now, the hand he held felt different—too soft, too smooth.

His heart raced as a wave of memories crashed over him, each one more vivid than the last. It was as if a glass had shattered under pressure, and the shards of his past scattered through his mind. His eyes flew open, and he shot upright in bed, panic setting in.

The room was a disarray of clothes strewn about haphazardly. On the rumpled sheets lay Vivienne, completely nude, wrapped in a blanket, her expression one of coy mischief.

“You’re up? So early. Stay a bit longer with me?” she purred, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

Declan felt his face drain of color, his heart pounding in his chest. “What… what happened between us?”

Vivienne pouted, her voice a sultry mix of sweetness and sleep. “What do you mean, what happened? You barged in like a man on fire, pushed me up against the door—you couldn’t wait even a second! Just look at me—I’m covered in marks. Everything aches.”

Her tone was teasing, imbued with the satisfaction of victory.

But the realization hit him like a freight train, leaving him breathless. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched tight. “You drugged me… last night, didn’t you?”

The question hung in the air, but deep down, he already knew the answer.

Of course she had. She had ordered the drinks, and he could only imagine what she had added to them.

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