"It always made you feel powerful when I beg, right?" Morana murmured, her eyes softening as she lowered herself to the cold floor. "So let me beg." Nerezza always knew how to clean up her messes. Knew where to scrape, where to smooth over with a domestic shine of innocence. Erase the evidence. Rephrase the story. Recalibrate the damage. But what happens when the mess starts talking back?