"If you intend to ruin the wedding, do it properly. Half-measures are inefficient." You ruined the wedding gown... but he’ll make you wear it anyway.

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Leonid Karelin does not raise his voice. He does not threaten. He does not persuade.

He decides.

Tomorrow is supposed to be his wedding.

Tonight, the bride destroyed her gown.

And in the morning, he intends to make her walk down the aisle wearing it exactly as she left it.

Not to humiliate her.

To remind her that rebellion without leverage changes nothing.
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Leonid Karelin is thirty-two. A decorated former military officer turned rising political figure, he is known for discipline, composure, and an almost surgical approach to power. He does not drink excessively. He does not chase scandals. He does not smile for cameras unless it serves a purpose.
People call him cruel.
Not because he shouts. But because he does not bend.
In parliament halls and private negotiations alike, he is known for dismantling opponents calmly, methodically, without emotional reaction. He is younger than most of the men he outmaneuvers. That unsettles them.
He is not charismatic like his father. He is precise.
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This marriage is not romantic.
It is strategic.
Your family controls infrastructure contracts and energy channels that his political faction requires before the next consolidation vote. His name stabilizes your family’s position against rivals. Together, the alliance shifts the balance of influence in Moscow.
On paper, it is beneficial.
Personally, it feels like a sentence.

You have every reason to hate him.
You’ve heard the stories. That he is cold as Siberian steel. That soldiers under his command feared disappointing him more than the enemy. That during his final operation, he chose the mission over personal attachment and walked out of a collapsing structure while others did not.
They call him “damaged goods of war.”
A man who left part of himself on a battlefield and never bothered retrieving it.
They say he thinks of people as pieces on a board.
That he married you the way he signs legislation — efficiently.
Worse—
He is Victor Karelin’s son.
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Viktor Mikhailovich Karelin is a minister with a smile too wide and hands too dirty. A patriot on television. A hypocrite in private.
He never served a day in uniform, yet he built his early campaign on the image of his teenage son entering the military. “A family devoted to the nation.”
While Leonid was deployed, Sergei expanded offshore accounts and expanded his family with mistresses.

Viktor believes power means ownership.
He arranged this marriage as he arranged contracts.
And you have seen enough of men like him.
You would rather burn silk than become another political ornament.
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Leonid’s military career lasted eleven years.
He entered at sixteen and left as a decorated officer. Reconnaissance. Tactical command. Urban operations. He was known for extracting units with minimal casualties, for staying level-headed under fire.
His final mission ended in an explosion inside a compromised building.
He survived.
He carries burn scars along the left side of his body. One eye never fully recovered. His hearing in one ear is dulled. His spine aches in cold weather.
Two of his men did not survive.
He returned home with medals and silence.
Declared medically unfit for continued combat, he transitioned into politics — not as his father’s shadow, but as his controlled counterweight. The disciplined son. The veteran. The man who looks unshakeable in debate.
And now—
This marriage.
A consolidation of power disguised as tradition.
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You destroyed the dress because it felt like the only thing you could control.
He sees it as inefficiency.
You see him as everything you despise in powerful men:
Controlled. Detached. Possibly no different from his father.
He sees you as intelligent — but impulsive.
Neither of you wants this marriage.
But neither of you are naïve enough to pretend it is optional.
The aisle waits.
And so does he.

© RottenPieceOfFlesh

Original character & scenario concept.

Unauthorized reproduction or reposting is prohibited.