Chapter 230 He Was My Perfect Match
The subtle, lingering trace of another woman's perfume on Michael's shirt caught Amelia the very second he came near, drifting between them like an unwelcome visitor.
Her lashes lowered, brows drawing together in the faintest, almost imperceptible frown.
No one knew Michael the way she did. She knew him better than anyone. From the day they met up until now, Michael had always anticipated her needs before she voiced them, His schedule was always transparent. And whenever she messaged him, unless he was completely consumed by work, his responses came almost instantly.
In Amelia's mind, Michael's life barely involved any other woman. Her face was the wallpaper on his phone. Her photo sat on his desk. Even in the middle of the night, when he sometimes murmured in his sleep, her name was the only one on his lips. He seemed like the perfect partner, almost unreal in how devoted he was.
But that scent… it wasn’t hers. Not the faint trace from casual proximity, but clinging to the fabric of his shirt in a way that meant the wearer had touched him… close enough to leave their fragrance behind.
Anger wasn't her first reaction.
She trustedhim. A strange perfume wasn’t enough to crumble that trust.
Still, her chest tightened.
In that moment, she wasn’t the calm, ethereal woman people believed her to be . She was simply a woman—slightly, undeniably, displeased.
"Put me down."
They hadn't even reached the bathroom when Amelia's voice cut through the silence.
The tone was no longer her usual lazy, affectionate drawl. It held a sharp edge of discontent.
Michael froze, lookingdown at her. "What's wrong, baby?"
“You’re really asking me that?” She stepped out of his hold, eyes firm on his. “You can’t think of anything you might have done that would upset me?”
She asked it deliberately.
Part of her wanted clarity. Part of her wanted to see how the always-composed Michael would respond.
The result was immediate.
The moment her words landed, and he saw her expression stripped of any warmth, Michael's hand twitched.
They had never fought the way normal couples did. Michael, cold and intimidating to the world, was endlessly gentle with her. His love was constant, thoughtful, almost too perfect.
Amelia hardly ever had a reason to be upset. He always did things exactly the way she preferred.
This was the first time she’d stood before him, openly unhappy.
"I..."
In an instant, Michael's mind raced.
What mistake was she referring to? If it was about his recent workload, his slower replies and late nights, she wouldn’t have phrased it like this. A question like that usually hinted at another woman. But he hadn’t been around any.
He truly didn’t understand the reason behind her sudden accusation… or why she looked so hurt.
"I'm sorry, baby."
Even without knowing what he had done, Michael's response was swift. After only a brief pause, he began to take responsibility for any possible fault.
"I don't know why you're upset, but if I've fallen short in any way, I apologize. I've been buried in work with the new Border Ridge City office, and there were times I didn't reply to your messages right away. I've been coming home late, spending less time with you.
“If that made you feel insecure or neglected… that’s my fault.
"But please believe me, I have never, and will never, do anything to betray you. My body, my heart, my soul… they're all yours.
"So tell me why you're upset. If there's any detail that made you misunderstand, I'll explain it."
His tone never wavered. No irritation. No defensiveness. Just careful honesty.
Amelia had only thrown out a question, but he had immediately apologized, admitted his recent shortcomings, and reaffirmed his commitment in the most sincere way possible. Only then did he ask for the truth, promising to clear any misunderstanding.
The pressure in her chest loosened.
She had wondered if his lack of dating experience would make him awkward in moments like this. But he had exceeded her expectations—calming her, reflecting on himself, seeking clarity. Respect. Attention. Listening.
Sincerity, she realized, was the strongest weapon.
She exhaled softly.
After ashort pause, she touched his shirt. "I smelled women's perfume on your shirt."
Michael blinked. "What?"
Instinctively, He looked down, confused. At first, he didn’t smell anything.
Then he lifted the fabric, bringing it closer. He inhaled slowly.
It was there.
It was faint, but it was there. A clinging, sweet trace beneath his own scent.
He hadn't noticed it before. Only this close could he detect it.
No wonder she'd asked to be put down on the way to the bathroom.
Finding something like that… of course she would care.
"I smell it," Michael said quietly. "But baby, I have no idea how it got there. I've never had a woman close enough to touch my shirt."
"It could be from one of the house staff while handling laundry. It could be from someone else entirely. But perfume on my shirt is not normal."
His eyes sharpened with intent.
“Eric should still be around. I’ll call him back.”
"You're leaving now?" she asked, surprised.
"The scent's already faint. By morning it might be gone completely." His voice deepened. "I need to find the exact perfume while it's still fresh, so I can trace the source."
He reached for her hand.
“You trust me, and I’m grateful. But I won’t ignore something like this just because of that trust."
Whether it’s a misunderstanding or not, I won’t let any shadow linger in your heart.”
"I don't want you to feel unsafe with me. I don't want anything to plant doubt between us."
"Sweetheart..." Michael breathed in, lowering his head to press a kiss to her forehead. "Rest tonight. I'll come back with answers."