"Well, I guess it's time to pay our friend Elena a visit, don't you think?" I look at Red and Luca in turns, my mind decided.

"I'm coming with you," says Red.

"No! I'd rather make it a social visit, given our history. If you tag along, she may suspect that we have an ulterior motive."

"I'm your bodyguard," Red insists. "It's only natural I tag along wherever you go."

"Goodness, Red, we talked about this!" I retort. "I can take care of myself, sweetheart! I got this. It's Elena, not some evil incarnate that can wipe me off the face of the Earth by visiting her house in broad daylight, come on. Besides, you'll need to contact the mystery man while I'm there so that we clear this matter once and for all."

Red's jaw clamps and I know he's unhappy with the arrangement. But it doesn't matter because I wanna do this without him. If Elena is truly the one holding the Ex-File, then the plot has indeed thickened from a needle to a tree, and I won't rest until I peel off every layer of the hidden truth.

"Alright," Red strides over and takes my face between his palms. "Promise me you'll be fine. And call me if by any chance you feel yourself in danger."

I chuckle, dropping my head back while wrapping my arms around his neck in a playful fashion. "Why? Will you teleport like superman and come to my rescue?"

"I'm serious, Mia." He doesn't laugh or smile; he's indeed lost his sense of humor lately. "

But does he actually believe Elena, of all people, could be the mastermind behind this chaos? That clingy, obsessive woman who wants nothing but to be Mrs. Kingston once again despite everything Patrick has done to her?

I highly doubt it.

"Don't pick a fight with her. Be smart," Red insists, eyes firm on mine as if yes addressing his most stubborn daughter.

"As you wish, mi corazón" I stand up on my toes and lay a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. Pulling back, I whisper in his ear, "I just think you're giving Elena too much credit, not that I'm being bitchy or anything."

"It's not only about Elena, Mia," Red says worriedly, a storm building in his eyes. "There's Derek Kingston, don't forget. He's as dangerous as his father. There's also Eliot, the only person we know absolutely nothing about except for being the family black sheep and protector of his mother—the only normal person in that family. But they all have access to Kingston properties and they all have the motive to bring Patrick down."

My breath catches. I know Derek wouldn't waste time roaming around with that important file all this time if he truly had it; he'd have used it by now to save his own ass and probably steal everything his father has.

That leaves Eliot... Eliot? No way!

"Text me when you reach there. We'll see if it's really Elena or not," Red says, and I nod in agreement. He returns the kiss, deeper than mine. "But Luca will drive you."

"No! I want no man to tail me."

Red squints his eyes tightly. "Mia—"

"I'll go with her! Girls' power; not to be underestimated," I hear Kenna's voice loud and clear coming through the entrance.

Out of Red's hold, I round my neck to face her, and she's really here.

"Rise and shine. Good morning, gorgeous people!" Her high-heeled boots tap on the rough floor as she sashays herself in, wearing a pair of huge sunglasses that she eventually takes off.

"You're late, " Red snaps.

"Yeah, I had a terrible hangover this morning. Last night was tough, especially when your supposed best friend thinks the worst of you." Accusing, haggard eyes stare at me.

I scoff. "What happened to the tight security of your cryptic trailer, Luca boy? I thought we were safe here," I say, crossing my arms on the chest while throwing the blonde Hedonis a condescending side glance.

Caught up in a war between two female alphas, Luca shrugs his shoulders rather confusedly.

"Um, Someone named Cobra—not sure if that name's legit but he's a hot meat so hey... no judgment here." Kenna shrugs, sauntering in casually with a smile. "He led me here so don't worry, I was too careful for anyone to follow me." She's now serious, staring at me tightly.

I know there's something to fix between me and Kenna, but at this point, jealousy is off my list. I'm over it. I just want to finish this race and destroy everything unneeded in my life, and if she's one of them, I'll happily oblige.

"I wanted her here. She works with me now, with us," Red informs me.

I'm neutral about it; I'm neither ecstatic nor disconcerted.

"Sure. The more the merrier," I reply, and I hope I'm right. "Well then, shall we?" I let my arms loose, a tight-lipped smile on my face when I glance at Kenna.

"I thought you'd never ask." Kenna smiles back, and it's as fake as mine until we reach the door where she tells me, "I'm not a perfect one, Mamacita, but I would never sleep with the one you sleep with. NEVER!"

Well, to me it's more like the one I sleep with will never sleep with you.

I trust Red, not her. I know she's still hiding something from me and I can't bring myself to see a friend in her as I did before.

"Okay," I reply. "We have an enemy to apprehend."

___

At Elena's, a middle-aged housekeeper regards us rather skeptically. I don't know her name, but she surely knows mine because, for the record, I came here many months ago and caused a scene. Breaking all the windows of Elena's brand-new Audi was one thing, but slapping her in front of her maid was something else entirely.

"I will kill you, you crazy slut!" she yelled hysterically, her hand nursing her cheek with a gateman straining her by the waist.

"Not before I burn your whole house with you, you old hoe! Stay away from my fucking husband!" I replied, arms held tightly by Derek Kingston who happened to be there.

I cringe inwardly thinking about those days. How foolish was I to fight for a man who felt no remorse for fucking around with women like trophies, caring so little that he was married not once but twice?

"You good?" Kenna asks laughingly because I've been laughing myself without knowing.

"Yeah." I nod. "Just some old, pathetic memories."

Surprise knocks me off when I find Elena with a black eye and a cast around her left arm. She's seated at the wing chair, her fade bares without an ounce of makeup—not even a simple powder or blush on her cheeks—and despite being a midday, she's still wearing her sleeping robe.

"Holy guacamole. Did she get hit by a train or something?" Kenna whispers, but I'm more focused on the person next to Elena who seems to be taking a statement given the notepad and pen in his possession.

Detective Smith.

Why is he here?

"Mrs. Russel, I didn't say you could invite just any guest inside my house, did I?" Elena barks icily upon seeing us.

"I-I am sorry, Ma'am," the poor lady stutters. "I tried—"

"Leave the poor woman alone, Elena. You know best that I listen to one when I demand an entrée." I push my way further into the wide living room engraved with more than a decade's worth of memoirs, mostly photographs, paintings, and porcelain. "I came in peace." I glance at Elena's battered face, then at the Detective. "Smith. Small world," I say to him.

He nods, sitting upright. "Small world indeed, Mrs. King—Sorry, Miss Diaz? Is that correct?"

"Absolutely. We're divorced now, me and Patrick Kingston," I reply bluntly, proudly.

"What?" Elena squints her eyes, shocked.

I sit down on the opposite wing chair from Elena's, and not far from the large couch on which Smith is seated.

"He didn't tell you? He signed the divorce papers last week, so... in other words, you're free to ride him if it's still in your best interest." I fail to keep my sarcasm in check. Amateur move. To correct my mistake, I quickly ask, "What happened to you? Why the—"

God, she looks awful. Her bottom lip is burst, and her eye is swollen with blackness and purplish color around it; not to mention her arm, which is probably sprained or broken from God-knows-what.

Elena erupts into a soft laugh, but it's as if she can't laugh out loud without answering to her pain. Eyeing me, she props her one knee over the tiger to reclaim her lost grace.

"You look awful pretending to care, so tell me why you're here and get it over with," saying this, she grabs a glass of liquor from the stool beside her chair. A bourbon, says the bottle." But I guess you should stay in line in case the detective here still has more tormenting questions for me." She looks at Smith, the glass between her lips.

"I actually have two more questions," says Smith, pulling my attention like a super magnet. "Why were you at Miss Scott's house on the day she died? What was the reason for you to visit her at all?"

What? They found out that she was also there—does this mean Detective Smith is still investigating Anne's murder?

"I wanted to give her a piece of my mind," Elena replies boldly after a sip of alcohol. Setting the glass on the stool, she calmly adds, "But seeing her made me feel pity for her instead. Patrick wanted her dead and she was playing with fire trying to blackmail him using their secret affair."

"That's a serious accusation," Smith remarks, his doe eyes smaller but tentative. "What makes you think Patrick Kingston wanted Anne Scott dead?"

"Because I overheard him ordering a hit on her," Elena says plainly without an ounce of hesitation. "I may be all sorts of evil but I'm not a murderer, Detective! I told that girl to go as far away as she could if she wanted to live, but she said she had something to do and she wasn't foolish like me to be discarded like a piece of used toilet paper to the likes of Patrick." She scoffs, muttering under her breath, "Such foolish young girls, thinking they know the world better."

Patrick wanted Anne dead? I think I forgot to breathe, so I do just that, waiting for more.

"I see." Smith scribbles something on his notepad. He glances up at me, then at Elena, before saying, "A neighbor kid was playing with a drone and that's how we managed to get the video of you entering Anne Scott's house. But according to you, someone else came but you don't remember who because you were hit in the head and blacked out, right?"

"That's what I said," Elena snaps impatiently. "Why? Is this the part where I should call my lawyer? Because I already told you that I did go to Anne's place, I did talk to her that day, argued with her, but I did not kill her! I passed out and I woke up in the hospital barely recognizing what day it was! They said alcoholic amnesia...and maybe yes, because I had a few to drink."

My eyes narrow at her inquisitively. Is she telling the truth? Maybe she is. But why is she testifying against Patrick now? What happened between them to have altered the alliance they had before? What really happened to Elena?

"Last question," Smith says. "Why would Patrick want Anne Scott dead when his wife already knew about the affair he had with Anne by the time?"

Elena looks at me for a brief moment before answering, "Because he's sick. He's a psychopath who thinks he owns people. If Anne was out of the picture, to Patrick Kingston, his dear little wife wouldn't have a reason to leave him. He believed Mia left him because he was with Anne, and not because he cheated on her. In his twisted mind, he believed Mia was merely being whimsical and jealous, crying for his attention. He's that sick!" She sounds so sure that much heart is about to leap out of my chest.

"What? That's ridiculous." Smith laughs.

"Yeah, it is," I mutter thoughtfully, "but I can't say it's not true either."

"See? I believe we're done here," Elena snaps, standing up to her feet which are buried inside her white bedroom slippers. "No one else wanted Anne dead but Patrick. Unless, of course, it was really his beloved wife who killed the mistress and best friend of hers out of jealousy."

She's back to being Elena the butch, smiling one-sidedly like a devil advocate in a red suit.

"Ex-wife," I correct her with a smile, for in my heart I'm long done with the marriage façade. "And no, Elena, I don't kill people. I torture them alive, and you know, don't you?"

"That will be all," Smith interrupts, standing up as well. "If you remember anything else, Mrs. Elena, call me. I know you didn't kill Anne, but you might as well become an accomplice if we don't catch the real murderer."

He leaves after glancing at me so briefly, as if he's sending a message. Of course, I ought to meet him because we have unfinished business. But for now, I just want to understand what happened to Elena and if she's the mystery person with the X-File.

Elena pours herself another drink; she's still standing, and now pacing toward the bay window overlooking her side yard with a huge swimming pool. I don't know much, but something about her has changed. I recognize that look in her eyes; it's the same look I had when I caught Patrick and Anne in the study.

Enough is enough—that's what it says.

"He did that to you, didn't he?" I ask, anger lacing my voice. He's such a bastard! "For fuck's sake, Elena, why didn't you report him?"

Stoutly, Elena bangs the glass on the stool and lurches toward me like a hurricane while snapping, "You think this is such a big deal? A broken arm and a little black eye that a simple makeup can fix?" She laughs, again and again, while looking me straight in the eyes, woman to woman. "You really don't know him, do you, Mia?" she asks slowly, almost pitifully.

And honestly, her question freaks me out. It's like a devil's witness talking right now.

"You made him sign divorce paper? With all the sick obsession he has toward you, he still agreed to let you go?" she asks me, unbelieving.

"Yes, he did." I stand up, and automatically she takes a step back. "It takes one psycho to recognize another I guess, speaking of obsession. Get used to it, Elena. We're over, and you're free to ride him again, although I doubt you're in the mood for that after he deformed and defiled you like that." I push her limits.

I want her to snap and tell me more.

"You think you're so special, huh?" she asks me gently, but rage is still somewhere inside her. Buried deep, maybe, but it never left. "Yeah, maybe you were his little trophy wife, Mia. Maybe he loved you more than he did me and many others he fucked and keeps fucking. But now that you chose to run away from him, I bet on my life that he'll show you the monster he truly is. I know that man like the palm of my hand. What he did to me. This..." She points at her broken arm, a clean white cast holding it against her chest. "This is nothing compared to what he can do to you if you don't go far away from him."

"Wait." I rub the tip of my nose using my thumb as I try to find a better quip. "Are suggesting that I should run away and live my life in hiding just because I'm scared he may kill me or break my arm as he did you and Anne? Is that it, Elena? Is that what you're trying to scare me off with right now?"

"This is the only time I'll be honest and civil with you, Mia! That man is the devil! He may have let you loose and unharmed all this time but do not think he's a fool!" Elena barks, her voice shaking with both fear and rage.

But afraid for whom? Me? Unbelievable.

"Well, I'm not gonna back off and run like a sissy, Elena. And neither should you if you truly want him to pay for everything he has done to you. I know you're fed up with him as much as I am, just as your children are, and for that reason, you have the right to fight back with everything you have!" Blood boils voraciously inside my veins; all I want is to see Patrick Kingston on his knees, powerless and defeated. "But if you choose to cower and drink Bourbon while wearing a nightdress in the middle of the day like a character from a Shakespeare play, be my guest. Perhaps you're too old to reclaim the life that he took away from you all these years. Good luck with self-mystery because that's not my favorite drink, unfortunately."

I grab my bag, ready to leave. I don't know where the heck Kenna is, but I hope she has found something crucial. And even though Elena's words about Patrick's villainous persona have sent a chill on my spine, I still won't live my life to the likes of him.

______

A/N: Thanks for the pep talk on my writer breakdown on the last update. I believe your insight has helped me set my vision straight, and I'm feeling more like myself writing the remaining chapters. Back to the story, I guess our dear Elena has finally woken up from her deep slumber. But who is the mystery man? Or a woman?