Mrs. Undercover May 2026

“Oh, how lovely,” Ellie said, taking the dish. “Won’t you come in?”

“Good.” Ellie watched Leo and Mia climb onto the school bus, safe and oblivious. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a casserole to return.” Mrs. Undercover

By 2:15 PM, Ellie was inside the school’s boiler room, dressed in her PTA-appropriate cardigan and sensible slacks. The Serpent’s bomb was beautiful—a work of art nestled inside a stolen custodial cart. But Ellie wasn’t looking for wires or timers. “Oh, how lovely,” Ellie said, taking the dish

“Why me?” Ellie asked.

It was 10:47 AM. The kids were at school. She was scrubbing a grape juice stain out of the rug when the doorbell rang. On the porch stood a woman in a floral dress, holding a covered dish. The Serpent’s bomb was beautiful—a work of art

“Insulates the relay without completing the circuit. Basic kindergarten physics.” Ellie wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll need a few things. A babysitter for pickup at 2:30. Access to the school’s HVAC system. And Dave’s golf club—the nine-iron. It’s weighted perfectly for a cervical strike.”