Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 221 Why did she look so pleased? Part1

From the second day onward, every night before we went to sleep, this woman would tell me a piece of my past.

Each time, I listened intently, feeling a mix of familiarity and confusion.

Was my past really that splendid?

Yet, I continued to listen, accepting these stories as my own history, since I might never regain my memory.

Every night, I found myself overwhelmed with sexual thoughts, especially when this woman lay beside me.

My desire seemed insatiable, and she always satisfied me, eagerly matching my intensity in bed.

But everything changed one day when she wasn’t home.

I was alone, playing with Kevin, running up and down the stairs, laughing and enjoying our time together.

By noon, after putting Kevin to sleep, I was drenched in sweat.

My body was still weak from being in a coma for over three years, and the nightly escapades left my legs shaky.

This woman, Luna, seemed like a siren, constantly igniting an uncontrollable lust within me.

As I started to descend the stairs, my legs gave out, and I tumbled down the spiral staircase.

I don’t know how long I fell, only feeling every part of my body ache as I finally hit my head against a column and lost consciousness, the screams of the servants echoing in my ears.

I don’t know how long I was out, but it felt like an eternity, a long, vivid dream.

When I finally came to, my body was stiff, and voices surrounded me.

I kept my eyes closed, sorting through my memories.

The woman who had been by my side, I remembered, wasn’t my wife but Luna.

My memory was fully restored.

But there were gaps I needed to fill.

Had I really been in a coma for three years?

What had happened during that time?

Why was Luna by my side?

Kevin was undoubtedly my son with Luna, but when had we conceived him?

Most importantly, where were my wife Betty and my son Michael now?

I lay there, eyes still closed, lost in the most painful memories...

I remembered Betty and Michael, and with them, the unbearable memories.

But waking up this time, my memory halted at the moment I chased after a departing black Accord.

What followed seemed too painful to recall.

I vaguely remembered hearing Luna speaking with a doctor.

Despite not wanting to worry her, I decided I needed to remember everything before facing her.

That night, three years ago, I had driven frantically through the streets, chasing a van that had left our neighborhood.

There was no sign of the Accord; a van and an Accord were hardly comparable in speed.

Rushing to my rented house, hindered by traffic lights and a jam, it took me over an hour to arrive.

By then, the Accord could have reached half an hour before me.

When I reached the house, the lock on the gate was missing, the door closed but unlocked, indicating someone had returned.

It had to be a coincidence, but the scene I walked into felt like a dream.

Now, with my memory restored, were Betty, Michael, and Luna real?

Or had my brain, damaged in the fall, conjured it all up?

If it were all a fantasy, it would be a relief.

Once I pieced together my memories, I planned to seek out the truth to confirm my recollections.

After parking, I rushed into the rental house, worried that I might already be too late due to the traffic.

In a frenzy, I pulled out my laptop and fumbled with the mouse, my hands trembling so much that I misclicked several times before finally getting all the cameras in the house to display on my screen.

There, in the living room, was a familiar and beautiful figure—my wife Betty, sitting on the sofa, her coat hanging on a nearby rack.

She was delicately sipping tea.

Seeing Betty, still in the clothes she had left home in, I painfully closed my eyes, wishing all this was just a misunderstanding, a mix-up.

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But the moment I saw her through the surveillance, my heart shattered, destroying the last vestiges of my fantasy.

Betty was alone in the living room.

The other man must have been in the bathroom, as the light was on and I could hear the sound of running water.

Unfortunately, in my haste and simplicity of the setup, I hadn’t managed to install a camera in the bathroom, so I had no visuals there.

However, the living room and several bedrooms were all under surveillance.

After a few sips of tea, perhaps bored by the wait, Betty put down her cup and started cleaning the house.

This place was her other home, perhaps now her true home in her heart.

As Betty moved around, I noticed she was limping slightly.

What had happened to Betty’s foot?

I remembered a night at the grocery store when a woman near me stumbled, her scent strikingly familiar.

Now, seeing Betty limping, and it matching the mysterious woman’s injury, everything clicked.

From drone footage of clothes hanging in the yard to secretive nighttime visits and the incident at the grocery store, everything was confirmed by the surveillance in front of me.

Was she waiting now?

Waiting for that man to finish his shower so they could make love?

As Betty finished cleaning and the man was still in the bathroom humming a tune, she glanced at her phone, seemingly anxious.

It was already past ten at night.

Was Betty hoping to wrap things up early to get some sleep?

It was past her usual bedtime, and although she occasionally stayed up late, she would usually be yawning incessantly by now.

But tonight, Betty showed no signs of fatigue.

Sitting on the sofa, idly playing with her phone, Betty looked utterly bored.

Seeing her with the phone, I suddenly remembered mine was still turned off.

Recalling the scene I had witnessed in the living room, where two people were intimately connected, I couldn’t stay calm.

Was I about to watch them go at it again?

I felt like I was losing all reason.

It was one thing for her to cheat behind my back with Michael, but now with another man?

One betrayal was enough; now here was a second, and Michael was my son, which I could forgive once, but not another man.

I powered on my phone and dialed Betty’s number.

As the call connected, her phone rang too.

Betty’s face lit up with joy when she saw the caller ID, a reaction that seemed out of place.

If she was in the middle of an affair, shouldn’t she be scared or nervous at my call?

Why did she look so pleased?

After a moment of joy, Betty seemed to remember something and turned to glance nervously at the bathroom.