UNTIL YOU REMEMBER ME のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 231 - チャプター 240


 ( Adrian) Part of moving on is erasing the person who caused the pain. I hired a professional team the next morning. Not just cleaners — removers. They took down every framed photo of Alessa from the walls. The wedding pictures. The honeymoon candid shots. The architectural sketches she had drawn for our future home. I watched them box everything up and send it to storage without hesitation. I didn’t want her face greeting me in every room anymore. I went through the drawers next. Her old notes. The little messages she used to leave. Her contact in my phone. Her voice memos. The playlists we shared. I deleted them all. Every digital trace. Every physical reminder. The penthouse slowly became a blank slate — clean, cold, and finally mine again. Kathryn watched me from the doorway as the last box was carried out. She didn’t say “Are you sure?” She simply nodded with quiet understanding. “It’s time,” I told her, voice steady for the first time in weeks. “I can’t keep living in a


 (Adrian) The kiss deepened. Kathryn’s hands slid into my hair, pulling me closer as our mouths moved together with the kind of hunger that had been buried for years. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was a slow, deliberate return — like two people remembering a language only they spoke. Her body pressed against mine, warm and familiar, and for the first time in months, the ache Alessa had left behind began to fade. I broke the kiss just enough to rest my forehead against hers, breathing hard. My hands rested on her waist, thumbs tracing slow circles over the fabric of her blouse. “Why?” I asked, voice rough. “Why never married? Why no one else?” Kathryn pulled back slightly, her eyes dark and honest in the low light. Her fingers traced my jaw as she answered. “Because it was always you,” she whispered. “I kept imagining our first night. That tiny dorm room. The rain. The way you looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. I tried… God, I tried with ot


 (Adrian) The morning didn’t end with one kiss or one slow touch. It ignited. Kathryn’s body was pressed against mine in the kitchen, coffee forgotten on the counter. The moment our lips met again, something raw and long-buried broke free. This wasn’t gentle rediscovery anymore. This was hunger — the same desperate, insatiable hunger we had known in that tiny dorm room years ago, but deeper now, sharper, fueled by all the years apart and all the pain I was trying to erase. I lifted her onto the counter, her legs wrapping around my waist instantly. Her hands yanked at my shirt, buttons scattering across the floor. I didn’t care. I needed her skin against mine. Needed to feel the heat I had once thought only Alessa could give me. But this was different. This was raw. Primal. The kind of desire that didn’t ask permission — it demanded. “Adrian,” she gasped against my mouth as I pushed her robe open, hands roaming over her bare thighs, gripping her hips hard enough to leave m


(Adrian) Alessa created another mess. This time, she didn’t just post the dissolution papers. She went nuclear. Her public announcement of “marriage” to Marcus hit every platform at once — photos of them together, rings visible, captions declaring a “reunion of true hearts” and “the love that survived memory loss.” New Yorkers were shocked. Headlines exploded across the city: “Valez Heiress Declares Marriage to Ex-Fiancé While Still Legally Wed to Adrian Reyes.” Social media was on fire. Everyone was talking about the audacity — announcing a new marriage while the old one hadn’t even been dissolved. Then came the press conference. She stood beside Marcus in front of flashing cameras, looking every bit the wounded survivor. Her voice was steady as she answered questions: “I can’t remember Adrian’s love. The memories I was given felt curated, designed to keep me from seeing the truth. I’m choosing honesty now. I’m choosing the man who was there before everything was taken f


(Adrian) Alessa’s latest spectacle reached me through a dozen notifications before I even finished my morning coffee. She had posted another statement — this time a polished video clip from a sit-down interview. In it, she sat beside Marcus, their hands intertwined, looking every bit the reunited soulmates. Her voice was calm, almost rehearsed: “I woke up without five years of my life. The story I was told felt… constructed. I’m choosing the love that feels real now. Marcus was there before everything was taken from me. This is my truth.” The comments exploded. Support for her “bravery.” Condemnation for me. Tabloids ran headlines like “Valez Heiress Officially Moves On — Reyes Marriage Officially Over in All But Name.” I closed the app without finishing the video. It no longer hurt the way it once did. The pain had dulled into something quieter — a distant ache, like an old wound that had finally stopped bleeding. She wanted me to react. To crawl back. To beg in public t