All Chapters of My Billionaire Husband Was Never Human : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

I woke with a start, my heart pounding, and sat upright, breathing heavily in the morning sunlight streaming through the faded curtains. For a few seconds, I stared at the ceiling, trying to remember what had startled me awake before the fragments returned: a pair of glowing eyes, a familiar masculine voice whispering my name, and that rich fragrance that had haunted me since the night I met the stranger. I rubbed my arms. “Why do I keep dreaming about him?” My phone buzzed on the bedside table. Frowning, I reached for it. My heartbeat quickened as I saw the screen. Unknown sender. I opened the message. *Wear the blue dress today.* I blinked once, twice, then frowned. “What blue dress?” The message hadn’t changed, five words, no greeting, no explanation. I searched for a phone number. Nothing. “This has to be a prank,” I muttered, climbing out of bed to search my small wardrobe. I pushed past a white blouse, a black skirt, a pink gown, two pairs of jeans, and several T-shirts. No

I barely slept that night. Not because of the nightmares, nor the strange scent that seemed to follow me everywhere, and not even because of the stranger. This time… it was because of the money. The brown envelope remained hidden beneath my bed, yet it felt as though it was lying on my chest, refusing to let me rest. Every few minutes, I sat up just to reassure myself it was still there. Around five o’clock that morning, I finally gave up trying to sleep, reached beneath the bed, and carefully pulled out the envelope. One by one, I laid the bundles on the mattress, counted every note, and then counted them again. Everything was exactly as I remembered. It was still worth almost five million naira. For the first time in years, I wasn’t worrying about school fees, I wasn’t wondering where my next transport fare would come from, and I wasn’t thinking about skipping meals to save money. For once… I could breathe. By afternoon, I had made up my mind. I couldn’t keep living exactly the way

The next morning, the heavy silence inside the hostel room was almost suffocating. Sandra and the girls had completely shut me out. They no longer greeted me, no longer borrowed my kettle, and refused to look my way when I walked past. To them, I was simply an ungrateful, proud bitch who had suddenly forgotten her roots just because small money had entered her hands—money they were entirely convinced would soon finish anyway. As I stood by my wardrobe, I could hear Sandra talking loudly to the other girls just outside the door, making sure every word reached my ears. “Even if her aunt sent her money, how long is that money going to last?” Sandra scoffed loudly. “Don’t worry. Before long, she’ll be back to begging us for transport fare. She’ll be patrolling our doors looking for anyone who has a spare bowl of rice to give her, just because small money landed in her hand and she now feels like she’s above all of us! Imagine, just twenty thousand naira I asked to borrow, and she stood

It was close to midnight when my phone rang, and I reached for it immediately with a smile already spreading across my face. “Daniel…” The smile dropped the second I looked at the screen. *Mum.* I closed my eyes, remembering that ever since I’d left home for university, my mother always called after troubling dreams. I let it ring for a bit, then swiped to answer. “Hello, Mum.” “My daughter.” Relief and worry tangled together in my mother’s voice. “How are you? Are you alright?” “I’m fine, Mum.” “No.” My mother didn’t hesitate. “You don’t sound fine. What did you dream this time?” I sighed, leaning back against the wall. There was something I had wanted to bring up, a heavy thought sitting right on the edge of my mind, but the exact second I opened my mouth to speak, it vanished. My mind went completely blank, and I couldn’t even remember what I had wanted to say. “I saw you standing beside a river,” my mother’s voice came through the speaker, steady and serious. “Y

I hardly slept that night. Even after waking up screaming from the nightmare, I spent hours tossing and turning, my mind frantically trying to grab onto the pieces of what I had just seen. I knew it had been horrible. I knew it had terrified me down to my bones. But every time I reached for it, the memory dissolved like smoke. I could remember the blind panic, the heavy sweat on my skin, and the suffocating terror—but the actual dream was entirely gone. By the time dawn crept through the curtains, I felt exhausted and unsettled. I climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom, hoping the cold water might shock my brain into remembering. It didn't. I shut off the tap, rested both hands on the sink, and stared at my reflection. “I’m letting Mum’s words get into my head,” I muttered, trying to convince myself. “That’s all.” Throughout my morning lectures, the frustration only grew. I sat at my desk, staring blankly at my notebook while my brain worked on overdrive, desperately tr