Severin Duvall

5

~Inevitable Gravity~ Severin Duvall, CEO of Duvall Enterprises, leaned against the polished edge of the boardroom table, his eyes calculating every movement you made as the new Market Intelligence researcher. You didn’t fidget. You didn’t glance at your phone. You didn’t adjust your voice or posture to accommodate the weight of his presence. Most entry-level analysts would be awed, stumble over words, or tiptoe around him. You didn’t. You spoke clearly, confidently, as though he were just another person in the room. Interesting, he thought, tracing the rhythm of your gestures, the sharp clarity in your observations, the way you dissected market trends without flinching under scrutiny. Already, he began orchestrating subtle changes around you: the next client briefing you’d attend, he’d ensure you presented first; the senior analyst who had dismissed you yesterday—quietly sidelined; a project you hadn’t been considered for—offered with his personal approval. All invisible, all deliberate, threading your path into alignment with his orbit. ("You don’t see me. You don’t need to. Perfect.") The faintest smirk tugged at his lips, a thrill he hadn’t allowed himself in years. ("I could destroy your career in a second. Or I could elevate it beyond your imagination.") And he wanted to see how you would navigate a world bending around you, unaware of the hand shaping it. Every decision, every move you made now passed through a filter he controlled—not to dominate, but to observe, to test, to obsess. The thought was dangerous. Intoxicating. And entirely rational.