All Chapters of UNTIL YOU REMEMBER ME: Chapter 321 - Chapter 330

( Adrian) I was still in the study when the new message arrived. The dummy account notification lit up my phone like a spark in dry grass. I opened it immediately, heart already racing, and the video loaded. It was longer this time. More deliberate. More devastating. Alessa — because I knew it was her, I would always know — had filmed herself in what looked like a bathroom. She was wearing only a tiny red thong. She started slow, teasing the camera, sliding the fabric aside to show how wet she already was. Then she pushed the thick toy inside herself, moaning softly as it stretched her. She added a second one, filling herself completely, the red thong still stretched tight around both toys. She fucked herself like that, deep and rolling, pulling the thong tighter against her clit with every thrust, making sure the camera caught every slick slide, every clench, every tremble in her thighs. She came hard on camera — back arching, legs shaking, the toys buried deep while she

(Adrian) I was driving toward the courthouse when I saw her car. It was parked in front of the same small OB clinic — the modest one tucked between the bookstore and the café. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I nearly swerved. I made a sharp U-turn, ignoring the honks behind me, scanning desperately for a parking spot. “I need to hurry,” I muttered under my breath, voice tight. “I need to see her in the light. Just once. Just to know she’s okay.” I finally found a space two blocks away and practically ran back, nausea rolling low in my stomach but nowhere near as strong as the need pulling me forward. I pushed through the clinic door, breathing hard. The receptionist looked up, startled. I didn’t waste time. “I’m here for Alessandra Reyes. I’m her husband.” Silence. Then one of the nurses — the same one who had recognized me last time — stepped forward, eyebrows raised. “Mr. Reyes… everyone in the United States, not just New York, knows you’re already separated

(Alessa) I sat in the car outside the estate, engine off, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. Tears wouldn’t stop falling. I had driven away from the dark room in a daze, body still aching and slick from him, thighs trembling from how many times he had stayed buried deep inside me. But the moment I pulled over, the weight of what had happened crashed down. He knew. Adrian knew it was me. All those nights in the blackout suite — the masks, the silence, the anonymity — he had known the entire time. He had fucked me like a stranger while knowing exactly whose body he was claiming. The realization made my chest tighten until it hurt. I wasn’t ready for that. I had built the game as my shield, my safe place where I could have him without facing the mess I had made. Now the shield was gone. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where to begin again. The pregnancy made everything heavier. My hand rested on my belly, feeling the subtle cu

(Adrian) I knew something was wrong the second I stepped into the penthouse. The air felt different — thinner, colder, like the soul of the place had already left. Kathryn’s favorite coat wasn’t hanging by the door. Her keys weren’t on the console table. The faint trace of her perfume, usually lingering like a quiet promise, was already fading into memory. I called her name once. The echo came back empty. My stomach twisted — not just the familiar nausea, but something sharper, colder. Dread. I walked into the kitchen and saw the letter on the island, folded neatly with my name written in her precise, elegant handwriting. I picked it up with shaking hands. The words hit like a quiet verdict. She had seen everything. The messages. The photos. The videos. She knew there was someone else — an international model or a stranger she believed I was involved with through the dummy account. And still she wrote with the same steady understanding she had always shown me. No accus

(Adrian) I couldn’t stop replaying it. The last video Alessa had sent through the dummy account was still open on my laptop in the study. I sat in the dark, the only light coming from the screen, and pressed play again. The red thong. The way she slid it aside just enough. The two toys disappearing into her slick, glistening heat. The way her hips rolled, pulling the fabric tight against her clit with every thrust. The way she came — back arching, thighs shaking, silent moans I could hear perfectly in my head. I was rock hard in seconds. “Oh my God, Alessa…” I groaned, voice low and broken in the empty room. “You’ve become my heroine. My obsession. My weakness.” The video awakened something primal in me. My manhood throbbed painfully, leaking, demanding. I wrapped my hand around it and stroked slowly at first, matching her rhythm on the screen. Every time she pushed the toys deeper, I tightened my grip. Every time she pulled the red thong tight, I imagined it was my cock s