I bring my brother Mikhail and our legal counsel.
The senator is exactly what I expected: polished, practiced, every gesture calculated for maximum political effect. He shakes my hand with the firm grip of someone accustomed to projecting confidence, but his smile never quite reaches his eyes.
“Mr. Rudenko,” he says smoothly. “I appreciate you agreeing to meet in person to finalize these arrangements.”
“Senator.” I gesture toward the conference table. “Let’s not waste time on pleasantries.”
His smile tightens fractionally, but he takes a seat without argument. The attorneys arrange themselves on opposite sides of the table, documents already prepared and waiting for signatures.
Mikhail stands near the door, silent and observant as always. He disapproved of this approach when I first proposed it—too many variables, too much reliance on a politician’s word—but he understands the strategic value. An alliance with Souris gives us access to legislative influence we couldn’t purchase otherwise, plus insurance against future political interference.
The marriage is simply the most efficient method of ensuring mutual investment.
“The terms are straightforward,” I begin, sliding a copy of the contract across the table. “Your daughter marries me in a legally binding ceremony. You provide the political cooperationoutlined in sections three through seven. In exchange, the Bratva’s documentation regarding your offshore accounts and financial irregularities remains sealed indefinitely.”
Souris barely glances at the document. He already knows what it says—his lawyers have been negotiating details for the past three days. “Serena’s safety is guaranteed?”
“She won’t be harmed.” I keep my tone neutral, watching for tells. “The marriage creates incentive for both parties to maintain the alliance. Harming her would be counterproductive.”
“She’ll be expected to fulfill the obligations of a wife.” It’s not quite a question.
“The specifics of our marital arrangement are not your concern. Your role is to provide the political cooperation outlined in the contract and maintain public support for the marriage when it becomes known.”
Something flickers in his expression. Relief, maybe, that he won’t have to think too carefully about what exactly his daughter will be subjected to. The lack of paternal concern is notable but unsurprising. Men like Souris don’t reach his level of power by prioritizing family over ambition.
“The timeline is aggressive,” one of his attorneys interjects. “Forty-eight hours doesn’t give us much room.”
“The timeline is non-negotiable,” I interrupt. “Rival factions are already aware that negotiations are underway. The longer we delay, the greater the risk of interference. The ceremony takes place Saturday evening or the agreement is void.”
Souris exchanges glances with his counsel, some unspoken communication passing between them. Finally, henods. “Understood. What about Serena’s consent? If she refuses to participate—”
“Her participation will be secured.” I don’t elaborate on methods. Let him imagine whatever he needs to in order to justify this decision to himself. “Your only responsibility is signing the contract and maintaining your end of the alliance.”
The meeting continues for another hour, attorneys clarifying minor details and contingencies. Throughout it all, Souris maintains his politician’s mask. He never once asks to speak with his daughter. Never requests assurance beyond the bare minimum that she won’t be physically harmed.
When he finally signs the documents, his hand is perfectly steady.
“I trust this arrangement will prove beneficial for both our organizations,” he says, standing to offer another handshake.
I accept it briefly. “That depends entirely on whether you honor your commitments, Senator.”
He leaves with his entourage, and I’m left reviewing the signed contracts with Mikhail and our counsel. The legal framework is solid. Souris’s political connections are now accessible. The marriage will proceed as planned.
“He didn’t even ask about her,” Mikhail observes quietly once we’re alone. “Not really.”
“No,” I agree, organizing the documents into a secure folder. “He didn’t.”
“Does that change your assessment of the situation?”
I consider the question. A father who genuinely cared about his daughter’s welfare might become a complication—emotional leverage that could destabilize the alliance if hedeveloped regrets. A father who views her as a strategic asset is far more predictable.
“It simplifies things,” I say finally. “Souris won’t interfere because he has no emotional investment beyond protecting his own interests. As long as the alliance serves him, it’s stable.”
“What about the girl?” Mikhail asks. “She has considerably more emotional investment.”
“She’ll adjust.” I close the folder with decisive finality. “She’s intelligent enough to recognize when resistance becomes counterproductive.”
Mikhail’s expression suggests skepticism, but he doesn’t argue. “The ceremony is set for Saturday at eight. Small gathering, trusted witnesses only. Security will be tight.”
