A/N: I can't remember if I said this before, but this story is set when the new A has arrived. Mona as A is dead and the new A is here. So this would be set after Unbelievable.

Previously: A dropped off the letter to Aria's mom, detailing Byron's affair, since Aria hadn't told Ella about it herself.

A/N: some of this chapter (Aria's perspective anyway) is inspired by the book-if I remember rightly, Flawless-which Sara Shepard owns, so I'm giving credit where credit's due. Also, a couple of things make reference to something mentioned in Wanted, so if you haven't read it, something could be a spoiler-or not.

Chapter 10

AriaPOV

I couldn't shake the sense that someone was watching, or that something would happen soon. This feeling of déjà vu was beyond annoying.

Then again, there was a new A. it's true what they say: you're not paranoid if you're really being watched.

All day at school, I was anxious, trying to find a sign of what might happen. I think the stress was making me see things: several times, I caught a flash of blond hair, and twice I thought I saw a pair of blue eyes staring at me. And yet, when I blinked and looked again, the eyes weren't there.

If A's goal was to make me crazy, she was succeeding. At least, I assumed A was a girl. Most of the notes sounded too female-if a guy was writing them, they'd sound a lot different. Not many guys would sign a note with the XO or sarcastic love ya.

Driving home that afternoon, I realized what today was. A had given me two weeks to tell Mom about Dad's affair. Two weeks is fourteen days. Today, it was sixteen days since A's note telling me to tell Mom.

Crap. A almost certainly would have done it by now. After all, she wasn't exactly the type to be generous and give second chances. Maybe if I got to the mailbox first, or raced for the phone every time it rang, I could intercept A's message.

Except, I couldn't. A was bound to know where Ella worked-what was to say that even if I got rid of a letter, A wouldn't just send a copy to where Ella worked? Or email? A could probably be very creative when she needed to.

I pulled into my driveway, wondering if I could postpone going inside by reversing and taking off somewhere. Maybe not. It would be better to get out and go inside. There might still be time to do damage control.

I walked inside and instantly knew that Ella knew. Lying on the table was a letter, creased and looking like it had been written on a typewriter from the early nineteenth century.

'How could you not tell me?' Ella asked. 'You knew for all that time and never said anything.'

How could I explain this? I'd wanted to tell her, but Byron had asked me not to say anything. Although, they say hindsight is a wonderful thing. Now, I saw that I should have told Ella straightaway. If I had, she and Byron could've worked it out together. As it was, divorce for them now looked like a definite thing. It was my fault just as much as it was Byron's, in a way.

Mom probably wouldn't trust me again too easily either. Sean had been right. I had put too much pressure on myself and yet not done anything about it. She picked up the letter and handed it to me. 'I think you should read this. Then, maybe it would be better if you could stay somewhere else for a while' she said quietly.

My gaze went to the letter. Short, only a couple of paragraphs, but effective.

Dear Mrs Montgomery,

It concerns me that your husband has been having an affair for the past three or four years-since before your family moved to Iceland, and that you still appear to have no knowledge of it. The girl is an ex-student of his, not all that much older than your daughter is. I feel that you may already have suspected something of the sort, which undoubtedly makes confirmation worse.

I feel compelled to add that Aria has been aware of this for about the same period that the affair has been going on. However, she clearly never told you anything about it. Even when someone suggested she tell you, she did nothing. As someone else who knows about it, I felt someone should tell you.

A concerned citizen.

The letter slipped from my hand and floated lightly to the ground. It was odd, that something so insubstantial and delicate could do so much damage. Even odder that the same thing that could do such damage, could be damaged in a multitude of ways.

A certainly knew what she was doing. A few well-selected words arranged into an anonymous letter could destroy a family. I didn't doubt that Byron was moving out soon-probably going to go live with the other girl.

With that, I went upstairs to pack some things and try to find somewhere to live.

Mentor POV

I waited patiently for A. She was currently seeing if anything had happened in the Montgomery household. Personally, I was willing to bet that the proverbial had hit the fan.

Just then, I heard the sound of running. A was in my room a minute later. She settled onto my desk chair, yanking off her oversize hooded jersey and tossing it aside.

I put my book aside and looked up at her, waiting for the report.

'The family is broken. Bryon is moving out and Ella kicked Aria out. When I left, Aria was arranging to stay over at Sean's house for a while. So far, Mike doesn't know yet-he was at lacrosse. Poor kid, coming home to find his dad and sister have left she said, idly toying with a piece of hair.

Good. Things have worked out just the way I wanted them to. This is better even than if Aria had up the courage to tell her mom. Payback's a bitch.

She pulled out her blocked-number cell and quickly typed for a minute, then handed the cell to me to read the screen. I smirked and watched as she hit Send.

This was always my favourite part of what I was doing. The feeling of triumph as I knew someone was about to get a nasty message, or when I knew something was going to happen that could shake a person up.

Best of all, the knowing. I knew everything, and not just about Aria, Emily, Spencer and Hanna. Of course, I'd had to share that knowledge with A when we were working everything out. To help her, I made flowcharts. Powerpoint presentations on who had done what-who kissed whom, who stole and who told lies. What lies they told.

The lies, for me, were both the best and worst part. They were the best because of what the lies covered up. And they were the worst because people-four girls in particular, expected to be able to lie and get away with it. Day after day, week after week… carrying on those lies over the years.

In a way, I was doing a service. I was teaching them that it isn't sensible to cover up secrets with lies. What a combination… I also wanted to uncover the secrets that had the potential to ruin families and hurt people. Secrets have a tendency to eat away at people, stress them out from the hassle of keeping a secret. Besides that, secrets could hurt other people. It was better to get them out in the open where people knew about it and then the people involved could get over it and move on. Granted, I was teaching them through A, who was in a way my messenger girl. But A was much more than a messenger. She was working exceptionally hard on this. I knew she wanted to do everything perfectly for her demanding mentor. And demanding I was. I had to be, to motivate myself to teach her well.

I taught her well. All the information I gave her, she worked hard to memorize. Names and faces were especially important, and so were what people had done. I was proud of myself. In particular, because both of us had led sheltered lives. Rich, pretty-never the kind of girl you would think something bad might happen to. The same type of girl as Hanna Marin, before her best friend tried to kill her.

We made a good team. Admittedly, she wasn't doing this for the same reason as I was. I was out for revenge, and she was out to appease me. What better way to do that, than have someone carry out all my dirty work? Teaming up like this meant I didn't have to do a whole lot. She did a lot of what I said and mostly without question.

I wasn't holding a grudge as such, but I wanted my payback for everything that had gone on in recent years. She agreed that I deserved to have some form of compensation, and was willing to give it to me. In a way, she owed a debt to me. It couldn't be paid back with the promise of new clothes or any material possessions. I wanted something deeper to return what I'd lost. Now, I was getting it.

Mentoring A gave me something to do, other than orchestrate what she would be doing next. It helped me keep a clear head, and not get angry with her. I couldn't risk getting mad at her. She was doing me a huge favour and I couldn't afford to lose that. If she quit, I probably wouldn't be able to pick up the slack. I could try, but the stress of adapting to everything meant huge risks-I could slip up. And if that happened, A would just be a joke.

I have to watch myself all the time when I'm around anyone. Especially A, because I don't want to slip and lose my temper at her.

Truthfully, I'm somewhat worried that I can't handle my temper all the time.

Recently I've created a ritual of writing down all my feelings and thoughts on paper, then burning the evidence. It helps some, but doesn't completely ease the frustration I sometimes feel.

Frustration, because I have to rely on someone to do everything for me. In theory, it's great. But in practise, not so much. Every time A tells me of the latest thing she's done or shows me the latest text she's about to send, I get jealous. I want that for myself. I want to know how it feels to have something to do that seems impossible and try to do it-and succeed. I want to know if there is any kind of adrenaline once something's been done-like what happened in Hanna's room while she slept. Sometimes I feel like I'm sitting on the sidelines, cheering A on and telling what to do.

While I may be lost without her, I think it goes both ways. Without my knowledge and guidance, she would be lost without me. It's knowing that which keeps me sane. That knowledge helps me keep my temper in check when I need to tell her something vital or when I'm creating some scheme that she'll go along with, not asking any questions.

So while I'm the mastermind behind what we're doing, A is the one doing all the work.

Some might think I would regret what happened all those years ago but I don't. After all, that has ultimately led to this. And after looking at such things compared with all that time gone, I have a new sense of perspective on everything.

But perspective or not, it all leads up to the one thing I've wanted for years: revenge.

APOV

Aria was definitely shaken by what had happened in her family. Mom and Dad were broken up, her brother would soon hate her and she was basically homeless. She'd better hope she and Sean don't break up any time soon.

Now on to Emily. I'd kept quiet as far as my work had gone. My mentor had suggested I should go relatively easy on her. I wasn't sure why, but so far I was. I really ought to do something else-after all, going so easy on her was quickly getting boring. I didn't want her to get complacent from lack of A. I would definitely have to figure out something I could do to remind her of me.

Did I want the girls to try and figure out who I am, I wondered. It was tempting, the idea of watching them scramble around to try and catch me out. Of course, they never would.

No, it was better to just focus on the task.

Now, back to working out what I could do for Emily. Since her parents didn't know about her girlfriend, I definitely had ammunition. I just had to use it wisely.

I turned to my computer and opened up the file named Emily. I scanned through the pages slowly, looking for something that would tell me how people would react to Emily's relationship being made public.

Several notes caught my eye.

Swim team. Parents very strict, attend church. Often competes at swim meets.

Perfect. It was almost too obvious. Now to give Emily an ultimatum. Since she clung to the idea that Alison was still alive, she should be encouraged to start digging up information about what happened that night. Of course, I would later encourage the other girls to do the same.

My idea was exactly right, and now I just had to start encouraging Emily. And if she didn't comply, she might find herself being outed to the entire school. Her swim meets were so public, after all. I doubt she would want that.

My mentor appeared-she always seemed to sense when I was about to do something-and looked at me curiously.

'Now that we've established A's power with Hanna and Aria, and started getting Spencer more uptight, I think we should start on Emily. I think she should start digging for information on what happened, don't you?' I asked.

'Yes, you're right. We want people to get to the truth. I don't want the girls to just be a bit scared of everything that's going on. I want them to actually do something' my mentor stated. I knew her well enough to know that when she wanted something done, it was done.

I picked up my A phone and powered it up, tapping my nails against the desk while I waited. How should I put this?

'Keep it simple' she advised.

Hi Emily! I know you still stick to your little belief that Alison is alive. Since you're so hell-bent on the 'truth' why don't you try to work out what happened that night in June? I know it won't be easy, but don't you love a challenge? -A

My mentor smiled and I jabbed the Send button.

'I wonder how long it is before anyone reaches the truth about what really happened that night' I mused, thinking of how the truth had remained hidden for three long years.

'Knowing them, it could take a while. Too busy running around doing things they shouldn't' my mentor answered.

True. That would slow them down. Assuming, of course, they cared enough to try to get to the truth.

My mentor and I were always inordinately careful to never slip up. Of course, A knows all. Now, we think it's time the rest of Rosewood knew what had happened on that night.

Only, we don't want to tell everyone outright what happened. We want people-four girls in particular-to try and work out what happened. Telling people would be too easy-we didn't want people to just understand, after three years of not knowing. Where was the fairness in that?

My mentor especially didn't want to just tell the truth. The theories that had been crafted over the years, all the speculations of what happened that night annoyed her. So did the 'Ali Fans' who created the shrine. Just because she was the most popular girl in Rosewood, people seemed to think they knew her. That was one of the things that really irritated my mentor. I knew that to be another of the reasons she was out for revenge with our scheme.

If anyone had stopped to think, or tried to talk to Alison's parents, they might have uncovered the truth.

Then, it would be far less fun for my mentor and me. By now, we'd gotten to be good at manipulating people-me in particular. I was A, after all. Manipulation was practically in my job description.

Besides that, we knew the truth would shock many people. It's probably safe to say a good part of America has at least heard of Alison DiLaurentis. A smaller group of those people would have vague knowledge of what happened to her-she was a pretty, rich girl who went missing. An even smaller group of people would know in deeper detail that she went missing and was never found.

Really, it seems that the more people who know about what happened, the less who have real knowledge of that.

Only, no one knows everything. Except for A.

Because let's face it, A knows everything.

Emily POV

I reread the latest note from A in disbelief. She wanted me to start finding out what had happened to Ali. How exactly was I supposed to do that? I mean, the Rosewood police hadn't been able to find out. And they're trained to find murderers and murder victims. I'm not.

I considered writing back to A, asking how I was supposed to do anything. Then again, she always seemed to know what I was going to do before I did it.

Maybe if I waited a while, she would tell me where I should start looking. Maybe what had happened wasn't the truth.

I still believe that somewhere, Ali is alive. I know everyone else thinks I'm wrong and that it's illogical. Even though they found the body, I don't believe it was her body. It was someone else. After all, they found a body, but never really ran DNA tests. I think the only reason they decided it was Ali was because of the ring on her finger. But anyone could have worn a ring.

A little while later, I got a message from A. Not sure where to start looking for Ali's murderer? Try looking at your old photos. They hold a major clue. -A

Well, that was helpful. I had a billion photos of me with Ali, the others with Ali and me or just Ali separately. What could any of these photos tell?

Even so, I pulled my photos off the board by my mirror and began flipping through. Half of them had the date and place written on the back, with a brief description of who was in the picture and what was happening.

Still, none of the photos showed any big clues about what had happened. I didn't see any clues in them.

Either A knew everything and was just trying to throw me off the track, or she knew nothing and was bluffing.

APOV

My mentor suggested that Emily not be the only one to start looking. She didn't want to run the risk of Emily coming up with nothing and going to the police.

I'd directed Emily to look at her old photos for a clue as to what happened. I knew that they wouldn't tell much. Really, they were a diversion more than anything. Analyzing pictures would keep her occupied long enough for me to tell the others to start searching too.

I would have been surprised if Emily had found anything out from looking at her little pictures. Generally, Ali was in nearly all the pictures. Sometimes it was the two of them, or all five of them. Some were just Ali, which I found weird. Okay, so Emily worshipped the ground Ali walked on. Did she really need a picture of Ali sleeping?

This would be tricky. I needed my mentor for this. I needed to be able to tell the girls where to start looking without giving too much away.

Unfortunately, for me, she wasn't around. She was doing some kind of research that would help me give the girls clues about what had happened, but that meant she couldn't help me right away.

Maybe I could guide Hanna to try and remember the times she spent at Ali's house and recall if anything odd had happened.

Spencer could use her analytical mind to work out what it meant when Ali was spaced-out and distracted.

Aria could go through all her videos again and see they had any clues. That girl had been so obsessed with filming even the most mundane things. Maybe there would be something in one of them.

My mentor would monitor them and keep an eye on their progress. Given their habits-and in Spencer's case, extracurriculars-that progress would not be overly fast. That would give us time to form plans, calculate ahead and anticipate their next moves.

And I would frame someone to divert the girls and make sure they didn't get to the truth too easily.

As far as plans went, this one was decent. It was still rough and needed shaping, but it would work. My mentor and I would make sure of that.

So… now my question was, who to frame?

I texted my mentor to ask her opinion. A few minutes later, I had my reply. And that idea worked perfectly.

Pin it all on the old A. The one who had set up A and paved the way for me. The one who Spencer killed. She was dead, and therefore wouldn't be defending herself any time soon. But she had helped me immensely. In starting the A notes, she had already done a good chunk of my work for me. Spencer was undoubtedly feeling some guilt for her death. Hanna would be feeling betrayed-after all they had been best friends. Emily would probably have felt bad that Mona had died, and Aria was probably relieved but shaken.

I wondered idly how Spencer felt, knowing she had caused the old A's death. I also wanted to know how she didn't get charged with manslaughter. At any rate, it was something else I could use-a note mentioning that she'd been responsible for Mona's death. Might prey on her conscience and upset her further.

It was time to start planting the idea in four girls' heads that the old A had killed Alison. To begin with, it would look logical.

After all, she had been blonde, which fit in with Spencer's memory of seeing two blondes in the woods that night. She'd probably secretly hated Alison too. Alison taunted her on more than one occasion and often made her feel like nothing.

Even A needs a journal. I found Mona's and read it. She was exceptionally smart. Not to speak ill of the dead, but she wasn't smart enough to burn the journal, and destroy the evidence. Then again, I was glad she hadn't. She'd recorded much of what she'd done-the notes sent, and the actions she'd made. It was convenient-it meant I didn't have to worry about repeating everything she'd done.

But anyway. It would also be logical because Mona probably wanted Alison dead. Not to mention what happened with The Jenna Thing. Then, of course, there was the way Mona disliked the girls for being so selfish and bitchy. She would've wanted her revenge on them, and what better way to do that than kill their best friend?

Mona had also lived conveniently nearby to Alison's house-just a few steps down the road from Spencer, and Spencer had lived next door to Alison. Who was to say she hadn't been the one spying at the barn window, watching and waiting for Ali to go storming from the barn? She could've easily been the one to follow Ali and kill her. And living so close, she would've seen the construction workers, digging and working on Ali's backyard. Probably, she would've known of the hole in the yard too, that was going to be used to create the fancy gazebo.

All this would keep the truth from the girls while my mentor and I worked out our next steps.

We were the only ones who knew about Mona being A before she died, while she was slowly making the girls go crazy. We managed to contact her and correspond with her for a while. She wasn't easily convinced that I would be the next A if anything happened-that was good, as she wasn't too trusting. In the end, my mentor stepped in to persuade her, and she relented. She promised to leave the journal buried in the forest, protected by layers of plastic bags.

After her death, I dug up the journal and read it. It was better than the latest book on the New York Times bestseller's list, and told me everything I needed or wanted to know.

It was good that my mentor had had the foresight to ask for the journal, knowing there was always a possibility that Mona might die somehow and leave her job unfinished.

Once I'd studied the contents of her journal, I stepped in to fill her shoes.

Finally, I was doing something that would please my mentor.

So there's the end of another chapter. Hope you liked it.

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