All Chapters of UNTIL YOU REMEMBER ME: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

338 Chapters

The River Keeps Secrets

The city feels different at night. Quieter. Sharper. Like the skyline itself is holding its breath. Adrian’s car moves through the streets of Manhattan with controlled speed, the engine low and steady beneath us. Marcus sits in the passenger seat scrolling through construction permits on his phone while I stare out the window. Pier 47 is getting closer. And with every block we pass, the weight in my chest grows heavier. Because somewhere beneath the Hudson River—my past is waiting. Marcus finally breaks the silence. “Okay. I have good news and bad news.” Adrian doesn’t look away from the road. “Start with the bad.” “The construction site is guarded.” I swallow. “Security?” Marcus nods. “Private contractors. Night shift prepping equipment for tomorrow’s groundbreaking.” Adrian’s jaw tightens slightly. “And the good news?” Marcus smirks faintly. “They’re guarding the main entrance.” Adrian glances at him. “But?” Marcus lifts his phone. “They’re not watching the water.”

Shadows Beneath The Water

The river looks calm. Too calm. But my heart is racing so hard I can barely hear anything else. “Marcus, what do you mean he’s not alone?” I whisper. Marcus is still staring at the dead sonar screen. “Something interfered with the signal.” “That doesn’t happen naturally.” My stomach twists. “You mean someone is down there with him?” Marcus nods slowly. “Either that… or someone just turned the scanner off remotely.” My chest tightens painfully. “Adrian is still under the water.” Marcus glances at his watch. “He’s been down there almost three minutes.” Cold fear creeps through me. “That’s too long.” Marcus doesn’t answer. Instead he leans over the railing again, scanning the black surface of the Hudson. Nothing moves. No splash. No bubbles. Just dark water shifting under the pier lights. My voice trembles. “We need to pull him up.” Marcus grabs the safety rope attached to Adrian’s harness. “Already on it.” He pulls. The rope moves easily for a few feet. Then suddenly—it s

The Woman Who Never Left

For three years, Margaret Lawson existed only as a shadow in our investigation. A name in documents. A voice in a recording. A ghost behind every disaster. And now she stands twenty feet away from us on Pier 47 like she owns the night. My pulse is pounding so loudly I can hear it in my ears. Beside me, Marcus mutters under his breath. “Well… that’s extremely inconvenient.” Margaret’s gaze drifts calmly over the three of us, like she’s observing pieces on a chessboard. Not people. Pieces. “You shouldn’t have come here tonight,” she says. Adrian doesn’t move. “You invited us.” Her lips curve slightly. “I left clues.” “That’s not the same thing.” The wind off the river pushes her hair across her face, but she doesn’t brush it away. Her eyes remain fixed on the flash drive in Adrian’s hand. “You found the car faster than I expected.” Marcus crosses his arms. “That’s because your plan had more holes than you thought.” Margaret glances at him briefly. “You must be Marcus Del

Ten Minutes Before Impact

The car door shuts with a heavy sound that seems to seal us inside a different world. Outside, the river moves quietly beneath the pier lights. And somewhere behind us, Margaret Lawson is still standing there. Watching. Waiting. Marcus slides into the back seat and pulls his laptop from his bag. His voice is low, almost resigned. “Well. Let’s see the disaster.” My pulse is racing. Adrian sits beside me in the driver’s seat, water dripping from his jacket, his hand resting on the steering wheel though his eyes are locked on the laptop. Marcus connects the flash drive. For a moment nothing happens. Then— A single file appears. REC_0217_CRASH_SEQUENCE Marcus exhales slowly. “That sounds promising.” My stomach twists. “Just play it.” He clicks. The screen flickers. And suddenly— We’re inside a car. The footage is grainy but clear enough. Rain streaks across the windshield. Streetlights blur past in long golden lines. My heart stops. Because I recognize the dashboard. The

The Choice

The name echoes in the car like a gunshot. Eduardo Valez. My father. For a moment I can’t breathe. The frozen frame on Marcus’s laptop shows the exact second before everything changed. Rain streaks across the windshield. Adrian’s car is inches from the guardrail. The SUV behind us is still closing in. And in the opposite lane—another vehicle swerves violently toward us. Marcus zooms further into the image. The driver’s face becomes clearer through the rain-blurred glass. Older. Sharp jaw. Familiar eyes. My chest tightens painfully. “No,” I whisper. Marcus exhales slowly. “That’s definitely him.” Adrian hasn’t moved. His gaze remains fixed on the screen. Cold. Unblinking. “That’s your father,” Marcus says quietly. “I know,” Adrian replies. My pulse pounds violently in my ears. “That doesn’t make sense.” Marcus glances at me. “Unfortunately it makes a lot of sense.” I shake my head. “My father wouldn’t—” “He wouldn’t what?” Marcus asks gently. “Try to kill Adrian?” M

The Edited Truth

The car is silent. Marcus’s laptop still glows between us, the frozen image of my father’s car staring back like an accusation. Rain. Headlights. The impossible moment before impact. Marcus exhales slowly. “Well. That’s… deeply disturbing.” But I’m not listening anymore. Because something feels wrong. Not emotionally wrong. Technically wrong. A faint pressure builds behind my temples—the way it does when a memory tries to surface but can’t quite break through. I stare at the timestamp on the screen. 02:17 AM. The crash. That’s what Margaret said. Ten minutes before the crash. But something inside me resists that certainty. My pulse quickens. “Marcus,” I say quietly. “Yeah?” “Can you rewind it again?” He shrugs. “Sure.” The video jumps back. Rain across the windshield. Me driving. Adrian in the passenger seat. The argument. Marcus pauses the footage again. “You want to look at something specific?” I nod slowly. “The dashboard.” He zooms slightly. The digital clock

The Real Trap

The ground shakes. Heavy construction drills slam into the riverbank with a violent metallic roar. Floodlights blaze across Pier 47, turning the night into harsh white daylight. Marcus stares through the windshield. “Well,” he mutters. “That escalated quickly.” Massive excavators roll toward the edge of the Hudson, their hydraulic arms lowering into the water like mechanical predators. My pulse races. “They’re digging exactly where the car was.” Adrian’s jaw tightens. “Yes.” Marcus glances at him. “But the car is empty.” Adrian nods once. “Now it is.” Marcus exhales slowly. “So Margaret thinks the evidence is still down there.” My stomach twists. “Which means she doesn’t know we already have it.” Adrian’s eyes remain fixed on the construction site. “No.” Then his gaze shifts slightly. “To her.” I follow his line of sight. Margaret Lawson is still standing under the pier lights. Perfectly still. Watching the machines tear into the riverbank. Marcus squints. “She looks… ca

Before The War Began

For several seconds I can’t move. The floodlights illuminate the open metal container in the excavation pit. And inside it—another car. Adrian’s car. Marcus exhales slowly beside me. “Well. That’s… extremely illegal.” My pulse pounds violently. “But we just pulled Adrian’s car from the river.” Marcus nods. “Yes. So unless this is the world’s worst magic trick… we’re looking at two identical vehicles.” Adrian’s gaze remains fixed on the excavation pit. His expression has changed. Not shock. Recognition. My stomach twists. “Adrian.” He doesn’t answer. “Adrian,” I repeat more firmly. Finally his eyes shift toward me. Something dark moves behind them. Something complicated. “You know something,” Marcus says quietly. Adrian exhales slowly. “Yes.” My chest tightens. “What?” He looks back toward Margaret Lawson. She’s still standing near the excavation pit. Watching the container being opened. Watching us. Like someone observing the final stage of a very long plan. Adrian’s

The Man Who Should Be Dead

For a moment, the entire world seems to stop. The floodlights from the excavation pit blaze across the pier, illuminating the second car like a spotlight on a stage. And inside the driver’s seat—a man slumps forward against the steering wheel. Marcus squints, then slowly exhales. “Well. That’s… extremely not good.” My heart hammers violently. “Why?” Marcus doesn’t answer immediately. Because he’s still staring at the face inside the car. The face I recognize too. The face that shouldn’t exist anymore. Victor Salazar. The man the entire investigation said was dead. The man blamed for the hostile takeover attempt against Reyes Holdings. The man who supposedly died two years ago in a private plane crash. My stomach twists. “That’s impossible.” Adrian doesn’t look surprised. His gaze sharpens as the workers begin pulling the car door open. “No,” he says quietly. “It isn’t.” Marcus looks at him. “You knew?” Adrian shakes his head. “No. But I suspected.” My pulse spikes. “You

The Meeting I Don’t Remember

For a moment, no one moves. The wind cuts across Pier 47, carrying the smell of the river and wet steel. Floodlights burn against the dark sky while workers cluster nervously around the car that has just been pulled from the underground container. Inside it—Victor Salazar breathes. Alive. And Margaret Lawson’s words still echo in my ears. Why was Alessa Valez meeting Victor Salazar the night of the crash? Marcus slowly turns toward me. His expression isn’t accusing. But it isn’t comfortable either. “Well,” he says carefully. “That’s a question.” My throat tightens. “I didn’t.” Adrian doesn’t look at me. His eyes remain fixed on Margaret across the excavation pit. “I believe you,” he says. But the tone in his voice is complicated. Not doubt. Not trust either. Something far more dangerous. Uncertainty. Marcus rubs the back of his neck. “Let’s… not panic yet.” My heart pounds painfully. “I have no memory of that.” Margaret’s voice cuts across the pier again. “You should.” W

...

7 8 9 10 11

...

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP