All Chapters of UNTIL YOU REMEMBER ME: Chapter 251 - Chapter 260

338 Chapters

The Man I Never Stopped Wanting

  (Kathryn) I never thought I would get him back. Not like this. Not after years of watching from the sidelines as Adrian built his empire and fell for a woman who woke up one day and decided he was the enemy. I had buried my feelings deep — the memory of our first nights, the way his hands had trembled the first time he touched me, the proposal he made on that dorm room floor while we were still breathless and naked. I had told him I wanted to be a lawyer first. I had chosen ambition over him. But ambition had led me here — Attorney General of New York, powerful enough to protect what was mine. And now Adrian was mine again. I watched him from the doorway of the study as he worked late into the night. His shoulders were relaxed in a way they hadn’t been since Alessa started her public spiral. No more tension. No more checking his phone for her latest spectacle. Just quiet focus… and the occasional glance toward me that made my heart skip the way it used to. He looked up

The Wait That Was Worth It

  ( Kathryn) I lay beside him in the quiet hours before dawn, my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Adrian’s arm was wrapped around me possessively, his fingers tracing slow patterns on my bare back. After everything — the years apart, the pain, the public chaos Alessa had unleashed — he was finally here. Mine again. I had waited so long for this. We never had a formal breakup. There was no dramatic fight, no slammed doors. It was only my ambition that pulled us apart. I had told him in that tiny dorm room, still naked and breathless after our first time, that I needed to become a lawyer first. More than anything. I needed to prove I could stand on my own before I could stand beside anyone. He had understood. He had even supported it. For years after that, he never missed a single day. When I was buried in work as a young prosecutor, exhausted and running on fumes, a packed lunch would appear on my desk — handwritten notes tucked inside, simp

The Legacy I Carried

 (Kathryn) I stood at the window of the penthouse study, watching the New York skyline stretch out like a living canvas. The glass towers reflected the morning light, each one a monument to ambition and vision. Some of those buildings had been designed by Alessandra Valez herself — sleek, precise, uncompromising. Her architectural philosophy was well-known in the industry: every collapse is the result of a miscalculation. She treated structures like equations, believing that with enough precision, nothing would ever fall. How ironic, I thought, that the woman who designed unbreakable skylines couldn’t hold together her own marriage. My own legacy was different. It wasn’t built with steel and glass. It was forged in courtrooms and chambers, passed down through generations of my family. My father was a Magistrate, a man whose rulings shaped legal precedent for decades. My mother was a fiscal prosecutor, relentless in her pursuit of justice, known for dismantling corruption rings t

The Comments I Refused to Feed

  (Adrian) I saw the fake account while scrolling through my notifications during a quiet moment in the study. The username was generic — something like “NYC_Shadow22” with a profile picture of a sultry model I didn’t recognize. The comment was on one of my recent professional posts, a simple photo from a charity event. “hi honey ” It was childish. Obvious. Designed to provoke. I knew immediately it was Alessa — or someone doing her bidding. She wanted chaos. She wanted Kathryn to see it and question me. She wanted me to react, to defend myself, to give her the attention she craved even while pretending she had moved on with Marcus. I didn’t reply. A co-lawyer from my firm had already commented publicly beneath it: “Don’t waste your time on Adrian. He loves Kathryn. Move on.” The words were blunt, almost cruel, but they served their purpose. The fake account went silent after that. No follow-up. No escalation. Just the quiet deletion of the comment a few hours later.

The Rain I Need To Recreate

  (Alessa) I couldn’t stop thinking about that night in the rain. It was the night I had called him gay — right after he humiliated Marcus in court for accusing his firm of fraud. I was furious, jealous, and stupidly bold. I followed him out into the pouring rain, soaked to the bone, screaming at him like a madwoman. “You’re gay, aren’t you? That’s why you’re so obsessed with destroying Marcus!” The words had been a weapon, a provocation, a childish taunt because I hated how much power he had over me even then. Adrian had stopped in the middle of the street, rain streaming down his face, eyes dark with something I couldn’t name. Then he grabbed me, pulled me against him, and kissed me like the world was ending. Hard. Deep. Possessive. That kiss proved he was very much a man — raw, hungry, and completely in control. We didn’t make it home. We ended up in his car, windows fogged, seats pushed back, his hands everywhere as he fucked me raw and desperate, like he had been holding

The Dress I Wore To Hurt Him

  (Alessa) I called the wedding couture house at exactly 10:00 a.m. The designer herself answered — a woman whose work graced runways and royal weddings. I told her I needed the dress within two weeks. Something dramatic. Something impossible to ignore. White lace with a long train, fitted bodice that showed every curve, the kind of gown that screamed “I’m moving on and I look better than ever.” “I want to post it immediately,” I said, voice bright and sharp. “Make sure it’s photogenic. I need the world to see it.” She didn’t ask questions. Rich clients rarely get questioned. She simply promised sketches by evening and a fitting the next day. I hung up feeling a rush of power mixed with something bitter. This wasn’t about marrying Marcus. This was about making sure Adrian saw me in white again — but walking toward someone else. Next, I called Marcus. He answered on the second ring, his voice warm but cautious. “Alessa? Everything okay?” “We need a church,” I said quick

The Memory I Pretended to Lose

  (Alessa) They left. I watched from behind the pillar as Adrian and Kathryn walked out of the church together, his hand lightly on her lower back, her head tilted toward him as they spoke. They looked… peaceful. Like two people planning something real. Something permanent. The sight made my stomach twist so violently I had to press my hand against the cold stone to stay upright. The moment their car pulled away, I stepped out from hiding and walked back inside. My heels echoed too loudly on the ancient floor. The wedding coordinator — a kind-faced woman in her fifties with a clipboard — looked up from her notes and recognized me instantly. “Oh! Architect Valez!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening with surprise and something like pity. “I didn’t expect to see you here today. Mr. Reyes was just here with another beautiful woman. She’s the Attorney General, right? Kathryn Schmidt?” The words landed like ice water down my spine. I forced a small, shaky smile. “Yes… I know.”

The Doctor I Chose to Weaponize

(Alessa) The wedding coordinator’s words wouldn’t leave me. “Mr. Reyes was just here with another beautiful woman… the Attorney General.” I sat in my car outside the church for almost twenty minutes, fingers gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. The image of Adrian and Kathryn standing there, discussing dates for something intimate, kept flashing behind my eyes. It hurt. It hurt so much I wanted to scream. Then a memory surfaced — sharp and sudden. The hospital. Right after the crash. I had been drifting in and out of consciousness, tubes in my arms, machines beeping softly. My doctor — the kind woman with gentle hands — had leaned over me when she thought I was fully unconscious. Her voice was low, almost a whisper: “Don’t trust Margaret… and be careful with Adrian. There are things you don’t remember yet.” I had heard it. Even then. Even when they thought I was lost in the fog. That whisper had planted the first seed of doubt. And now, with ev

The Whisper I Never Forgot

(Alessa) I couldn’t stop thinking about that whisper. It had been buried deep in the fog of my recovery, but now it kept rising to the surface like something I could no longer ignore. The hospital. The machines beeping softly. Dr. Monteverde leaning over me when she thought I was fully unconscious. Her voice low, almost hesitant: “Don’t trust Margaret… and be careful with Adrian. There are things you don’t remember yet.” I had heard it. Even then. Even when they believed I was lost in the darkness. The next morning, I called Dr. Regina Moreau — the new neurologist I had hired for her media presence and sympathetic tone. She answered on the second ring, professional and warm. “Ms. Valez, how are you feeling today?” I didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Do you know Dr. Monteverde? She handled my initial recovery after the crash. The one Adrian hired.” There was a short pause. “I know of her. She’s highly respected in traumatic brain injury cases. Why do you ask?” I

The Help I Finally Asked For

(Adrian) I couldn’t ignore it any longer. Alessa’s latest move had gone beyond public spectacle. She had brought in a new neurologist — Dr. Regina Moreau — and was preparing a statement about her “critical memory loss” and “external influences” during her recovery. The teaser post on her social media was already gaining traction: “Some truths from my recovery are finally coming to light. Sometimes the people we trust most are the ones we should fear.” She was weaponizing her trauma. Painting me as the manipulator. Using her condition to justify every accusation, every post, every attempt to destroy what remained of my reputation. I sat in the study with the latest alerts open on my screen, feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and clarity. Kathryn walked in quietly, carrying two cups of coffee. She set one down in front of me and sat on the edge of the desk, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world again,” she said softl

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