Undercover Godmother—They Framed My Daughter, I Buried Them All

Five years ago I retired to the top and swore never to come back down. Then I found my daughter's name ripped off our door, her body broken in a basement cage, framed for a theft she never committed. The man I made Underboss let it happen. The niece who stole her inheritance wore my daughter's pendant like a trophy. I walked in wearing a stranger's face — plain hair, soft jaw, nobody's mother. By the time they realized who I really was, it was already too late to run. I didn't come back for mercy. I came back to bury every traitor who touched my blood.