Semua Bab UNTIL YOU REMEMBER ME: Bab 251 - Bab 260


 (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


(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


 (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


 (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.”

(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