Part 2He Chose Her for the World Cup. I Chose To Leave

I tore the apartment apart, but I couldn't find the necklace my grandmother left me before she died.

It was the only memento I had left of her.

Forcing down my rising panic, I walked out of the bedroom and looked at Louis.

"Did you see the sapphire necklace I kept in my vanity drawer?"

Louis was lounging on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.

He didn't even look up, his tone entirely nonchalant: "Oh, that. Monica was over the other day and thought it was pretty, so I let her borrow it for a few days."

My blood instantly ran cold.

"When was she at our place?" My voice trembled slightly.

I was a neat freak and hated people touching my personal belongings. Louis had explicitly promised me he would never bring anyone back to our apartment.

"Last week, when you were out with a client. She got drunk, and I didn't feel right leaving her alone, so I let her crash here." Louis seemed to finally remember his promise and gave me an apologetic, coaxing smile. "I swear, it was just this once."

If this were the past, I would have blown up and started a massive fight. But right now, all I could think about was that necklace.

I shot him a flat stare, grabbed my car keys without a word, and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

Half an hour later, I knocked on the door of Monica’s apartment.

She opened it, covering her mouth in exaggerated surprise.

"Skyler? What are you doing here?"

She stepped aside to let me in, slipping into the kitchen to pour water while quickly tapping away on her phone.

I guessed she was texting Louis to tattle on me, but I didn't care.

"I’m here to get my necklace," I said, standing in the middle of her living room, my voice ice-cold.

Monica walked over with a glass of water and sighed.

"Louis is just impossible. He always treats my place like it’s his own." She pointed to an open bottle of whiskey on the counter. "A few days ago, he was in a bad mood and insisted he could only cheer up if he hung out with me. I stayed up talking with him all night, I was exhausted."

I spotted one of Louis’s favorite suit jackets draped casually over her sofa.

Catching my gaze, Monica rolled her eyes playfully and put on an apologetic face. "Oh, sorry Skyler, I didn’t mean to imply that Louis isn't happy with you."

"But honestly, you are a bit too controlling. Louis mentions all the time that being with you makes him feel suffocated..."

I just stood there, quietly watching her put on her little show.

Seeing I wasn't reacting, Monica looked a bit put out.

"Come on in and get it," she said, turning toward her bedroom.

I followed her. As we passed the bathroom, the door was half-open.

On the sink, lined up perfectly, were two matching toothbrushes and a pair of couple’s towels.

"Sorry, it’s a bit messy." Monica followed my line of sight and giggled behind her hand. "Louis crashes here so often, I just got him his own set of stuff. You know how he is—he's picky about his bed and his things."

My heart completely hit rock bottom.

For the past year, Louis kept saying the company was busy, that he had business trips or overnight meetings at the office.

Turns out, all those nights he didn't come home, he was right here in this apartment, using his designated toothbrush, spending the night with Monica.

But I didn't freak out or get jealous the way Monica was clearly hoping I would.

I just gave a flat, "Okay."

My total indifference made the smile freeze on Monica’s face, a flash of frustration crossing her eyes.

"Where’s the necklace?" I demanded, staring her down.

Monica bit her lip and walked over to an open suitcase by her closet.

She crouched down and started digging through it.

Right on top of her clothes were several sets of incredibly revealing, sexy lingerie.

And scattered right next to them were a few individual condoms, already torn from their box.

Monica looked up, meeting my eyes with a suggestive smirk: "Might need these when we go watch the World Cup."