From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 501

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"Crap!" Leander had been keeping his head down in the back, pretty much invisible from where Maeve stood. She shouldn't have noticed him at all—until Nathan blurted that word out loud enough to turn every head, including hers.

"Ms. Maeve? You okay?" Denzel walked alongside her, only to see her come to a sudden halt. He shot her a puzzled look, wondering what made her freeze like that.

When he followed her eyes, he realized she wasn't reacting to him at all. She was locked onto something across the room, standing stiff like someone had hit the pause button.

"Ms. Maeve?" He called her again, but she didn't budge. She stood there like she'd turned to stone.

"What the…" He finally tracked her line of sight and spotted a young guy dressed so plainly he practically blended into the furniture. The guy was slouched on a couch with one leg thrown over the other.

Nothing about him screamed for attention—ordinary clothes, relaxed posture, nothing flashy. Yet for some reason, he had completely captured Maeve's focus, as if the rest of the room didn't exist.

…

"Leander, are we actually going or what?" Nathan was completely oblivious to the weird mood settling over the place. He wandered toward Leander, rambling about the bonfire party, while only Celia and Aurora seemed to pick up that the air had suddenly turned strange.

Leander let out a silent sigh and shot him a look that basically said, "not now."

Nathan froze, totally lost on why he was getting glared at.

Before he could ask anything else, Maeve suddenly broke her stillness. She didn't spare Denzel—standing right beside her—so much as a glance. She simply stepped out and headed straight toward Leander like she'd made up her mind in an instant.

The moment she started walking, the entire hall seemed to shift. She wasn't just a celebrity—she was the kind of global star who could flip a room's energy just by breathing—and her presence alone pulled every pair of eyes in the room toward her.

By then, every tiny move she made had the whole crowd glued to her. She drifted forward with that effortless, floating kind of walk, heading in Leander's direction.

Livia and the other girls—who had only just squealed their way through getting her autograph—looked like they were about to explode from excitement when they realized she was actually walking their way. "No way… She's actually heading this direction. Are we hallucinating? Does she… know who we are?"

Before they could finish whispering theories, Maeve was already right in front of them. Her long gown swept across the floor as she stopped beside the window shutters, close enough to Leander that he only needed to lean forward a bit to touch her.

"Funny how life works, huh? Guess we were meant to run into each other." She flashed a soft smile—bright enough to light up a garden—and her eyes were fixed solely on him.

When she spoke up, the girls around her finally snapped out of their excitement. Only then did they realize she hadn't approached because they'd gotten her attention—she had walked straight past them for Leander.

But that made zero sense.

Earlier, when they'd gone up to ask for her autograph, Leander hadn't even moved from his seat. He didn't say a word, nor show the slightest sign he knew her. So, why is an international superstar now acting like she knows me?

"If that idiot hadn't yelled, you wouldn't have even spotted me, right?" He didn't bother straightening up. Still sunk into the couch, he jerked his chin toward Nathan, his tone dry and uninterested.

Running into Maeve had been the last thing on his mind.

Nathan's perfectly timed shout just dragged him straight into it.

Her smile didn't carry even a trace of superstar distance. If anything, she looked disarmingly down-to-earth as she settled right beside him—close enough that their sleeves could've brushed. The whole move felt casual, almost playful.

They glanced at one another, shock written all over their faces, and quietly gave him a nod of respect. If someone on Maeve's level—the kind of superstar everyone idolized—treated him with that kind of attention, then really… who wasn't somehow under his orbit?