Her Birthday His Forbidden Desire novel Chapter 32

**Twilight Carves Destinies by George Orwell 32**
**Chapter 22**

When Sloane regained consciousness, a suffocating darkness enveloped her. Her eyes were tightly blindfolded, rendering her completely sightless.

Her body felt heavy, limbs weak and unresponsive, as if she were still trapped in the haze of whatever drug had been administered. Panic surged through her as she realized her wrists were bound firmly behind her back, a stark reminder of her predicament.

A sharp, relentless buzz echoed in her skull, drowning her thoughts in confusion. Who would want to abduct her? The question spiraled in her mind, an incessant loop of dread. One thing was abundantly clear—it couldn’t be Declan. If he were involved, the scenario would be entirely different, devoid of this sinister atmosphere.

As she strained to listen, a faint rustling broke the silence, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. “Who’s there?” she called out, her voice trembling slightly, betraying her fear.

“Sloane?” came a raspy, yet familiar voice that sent a jolt of recognition through her. “Is that you, Sloane?”

To her astonishment, it was Declan. The realization hit her like a cold wave; he too was in a similar plight, bound and discarded on the floor just as she was.

The moment the grim truth sank in, Declan’s voice erupted with a furious intensity that reverberated in the confined space. “Get out here! Vivienne?!”

His anger hung thick in the air, a desperate plea for answers.

As if summoned by his rage, the sharp click of high heels echoed ominously across the room, each step amplifying the tension.

“No wonder I loved you for so long,” a chillingly detached voice cut through the air, laced with bitterness.

Vivienne emerged from the shadows, her once-gleaming presence now reduced to a frail mockery of its former glory. She crouched before them, her eyes alight with a twisted satisfaction, and in one swift motion, yanked the blindfolds from their faces.

Sloane’s heart raced as she took in Vivienne’s disheveled appearance; the golden girl of high society now looked gaunt and almost sickly, her expression contorted with a mixture of rage and despair. The moment their eyes met, a spark ignited within Vivienne, and without warning, she slapped Sloane across the face.

“What the hell are you staring at, bitch?!” she spat, venom dripping from her words.

Declan’s fury boiled over as he strained against his restraints, his voice a low growl. “Stop it! Vivienne, don’t you dare touch her! I swear to God—”

Vivienne let out a low, mocking laugh that sent a chill down Sloane’s spine. “Right. You really think you can protect her? You won’t let me go, will you?”

She leaned in closer, her voice dripping with malice. “You’re probably wondering how I, the one you had thrown into custody, am standing here right now… Well, let me enlighten you.”

With a derisive snort, she continued, “I took the lawyer’s advice, you know? Pretended to attempt suicide while in holding. They transferred me to a hospital for treatment. We’re the Blakes, remember? One phone call, and I was free. Escaping from a hospital isn’t difficult when your last name carries weight.”

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