Her Birthday His Forbidden Desire novel Chapter 24

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**Twilight Carves Destinies by George Orwell 24**

**Chapter 14**

As Declan’s gaze ignited with a fury that could ignite flames, Vivienne instinctively recoiled, her heart racing with fear.

“D-Declan, I swear, it’s not what you think. That video—Sloane set me up! She’s lying through her teeth!”

Before she could elaborate, he surged forward, his hand encircling her throat with an iron grip.

“Where is she?” he bellowed, his voice a thunderous storm, devoid of reason. “Where’s Sloane? What have you done to her?!”

Vivienne struggled against his hold, her fingers clawing futilely at his wrist as desperation clawed at her throat.

“Let go! Declan—please, just let go!”

The lawyer and the bodyguards sprang into action, rushing to separate the two, their voices a cacophony of urgency.

“Mr. Hawthorne, you know the law! If you don’t stop this madness right now, you could face serious charges!”

It took the combined strength of all three men to finally pry Declan away from her, his rage still simmering just beneath the surface.

Vivienne’s complexion flushed a deep crimson, her eyes brimming with tears as she sank to the floor, coughing and gasping for precious air, utterly defeated. “You’re willing to do this over her? That dead woman—Sloane?!”

“She’s not dead!” Declan’s voice trembled, his expression turning ashen, a ghost of despair crossing his features.

A bitter laugh escaped Vivienne, a sound devoid of hope, as if she had nothing left to lose. “Fine. If you’re so eager to kill me for her sake, then listen closely.”

“That night, after she fell into the water, she flailed for a bit—then the waves swallowed her whole. She’s gone. By now, there’s probably nothing left of her—not even a body.”

The words struck Declan like a thunderclap, reverberating through his mind. His ears buzzed, and his heart raced wildly, a drumbeat of panic and disbelief. And then, in a horrifying moment of clarity, he felt a warm surge of blood erupt from his mouth as he collapsed backward, the world spinning into darkness.

Declan Hawthorne. You brought this upon yourself.

You shattered the heart of the woman who loved you time and again, all to shield a monster like Vivienne.

You never had faith in her—not when she wept, not when she pleaded, not even when she knelt before you in desperation.

As the shadows enveloped him, a bitter whisper escaped his lips, laced with the cruel sting of irony.

**Chapter 14**

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“I’m sorry, Sloane… I’m coming to be with you.”

A month later, in a secluded estate nestled in the countryside, forty miles from Riverstone—

A private nurse carefully inserted a needle into the frail, icy-cold vein of the woman lying motionless on the bed. The stark contrast of her pale skin against the purplish bruises made each mark stand out like a haunting reminder of her suffering.