My Enemy Stepbrother

Connie's POV

When you move from a Texas trailer park to a Connecticut mansion, it feels like jumping straight from hell into heaven—except you're not sure if you're actually dead.

My battered suitcase lay in the palace-like foyer, looking completely out of place. Mom—no, I should call her Layla Blackwood now—was nervously organizing our meager belongings.

Six months ago, Mom was still Layla Moreno, William Blackwood's secretary and a struggling single mother. Now she was the wife of one of Connecticut's wealthiest men. Sometimes I felt like this was all a fairy tale—I just wasn't sure if the ending would be as happy as the stories.

"Welcome home, Connie. This is your home now." William Blackwood spread his arms with a warm smile. Seemed genuine enough, but who could tell?

I forced myself not to gawk. The ceiling was cathedral-high, and the crystal chandelier was so bright it hurt my eyes. The marble floors were so polished they could serve as mirrors—I'd bet this floor alone was worth more than our entire trailer park home.

This was more extravagant than those TV mansion dramas.

"Thank you, Mr. William." I managed a smile.

Mom patted my shoulder gently, worry flickering in her eyes. "Mija, relax. This is our new home now."

She made it sound easy, but I could tell she was adjusting too. From trailer park secretary to wealthy housewife—that was a bigger leap than the Grand Canyon.

At dinner, I sat at the long table covered with pristine white cloth, facing elaborate dishes and carefully handling expensive silverware.

"Chase is staying at his friend Tyler's tonight. You'll meet him tomorrow," William said casually while cutting his steak. "You're about the same age. Should be good friends."

Friends? I mentally rolled my eyes. A rich boy and a girl like me? He probably wouldn't even look at me twice.

But I nodded anyway. "I'm looking forward to meeting him."

TOTAL lie.

At midnight, insomnia clung to my brain like an unwelcome guest.

This room was too big—so big I felt like a lost ant. The bed was too soft, the curtains too thick, even the air smelled too clean. Everything was too perfect, so perfect I felt like an intruder.

I missed the simple life in our small trailer.

I decided to explore and get familiar with this "new home."

Barefoot on the cold marble, I wandered the hallways like a ghost. Moonlight streamed through massive floor-to-ceiling windows, painting everything silver.

Then I heard sounds—coming from the kitchen.

Rummaging noises and low cursing.

My heart SLAMMED. A burglar? In this kind of rich neighborhood?

I grabbed a decorative baseball bat from the foyer and crept toward the kitchen.

"FREEZE!" I burst in, bat raised. "I already called the cops!"

Then I saw him.

DAMN.

Shirtless, with muscle definition that looked like sculpture in the moonlight. Messy dark hair, biting into an apple as he turned around. Those eyes—blue eyes like the midnight ocean.

He slowly chewed the apple, his gaze sweeping from my messy hair to my pajamas, finally settling on the bat in my hands. His mouth slowly curved into a wicked grin.

"Well, well, well." His voice was deep and magnetic with a hint of mockery. "You must be the trailer park princess."

Princess? I gritted my teeth and gripped the bat tighter.

"Welcome to MY territory, sweetheart." He took another bite of the apple, completely unfazed by my threat.

"Your territory?" I tensed my muscles. "This is the Blackwood house!"

"Exactly." He stepped forward, and I instinctively backed up until I felt the marble counter against my back. "I'm Chase Blackwood. And you, Connie Moreno, are threatening me with a weapon in MY kitchen."

My brain went completely blank.

HE was my stepbrother—Chase Blackwood!

"Then why were you sneaking around?" I shot back, trying to maintain my courage. "You looked like a damn burglar!"

"Because this is MY house, and I eat whenever I want." He stepped closer, now only inches between us. I could smell him—some expensive cologne mixed with sweat that was annoyingly GOOD. "But you're the one wandering around with a weapon."

"I thought—"

"You thought what?" His voice suddenly turned dangerous. "Thought someone was stealing your junk? Or maybe this place isn't safe enough for your noble background?"

Blood rushed to my head. "You BASTARD—"

I swung the bat, but this guy was lightning fast. He grabbed my wrist and twisted, sending the bat clattering to the floor. I was pushed against the counter with his chest pressed against my back.

"Let me GO!" I struggled frantically, but he was too strong.

"Calm down, princess." His breath on my ear sent shivers down my spine. "I don't want to explain to Dad why my new stepsister attacked me in the kitchen."

Stepsister. The word hit me like a slap.

I elbowed him hard in the ribs, and when he loosened his grip from the pain, I spun around. Now we were face to face, his hands braced on the counter on either side of me, completely trapping me.

Close enough to feel his body heat and see every shade of blue in his eyes.

"You better stay away from me." I glared at him, trying to sound tough.

He looked down at me, something burning in those eyes. "That's gonna be a problem, princess. We live under the same roof, go to the same school."

His finger traced my cheek, and I slapped it away hard.

"Don't touch me."

"As you wish." He stepped back but kept that infuriating smirk. "Sweet dreams, Connie. See you at school tomorrow."

He disappeared toward the stairs, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my heart pounding like it might explode.

DAMN rich boy.

Westridge Prep looked exactly like those elite schools in movies—classical architecture, perfectly manicured lawns, even the air smelled like privilege.

Students in the hallways wore expensive uniforms, each sporting accessories worth a fortune. I straightened my spine and told myself not to be intimidated.

Connie wasn't afraid of any challenge.

But the cafeteria was another story.

As I carried my tray looking for a seat, I felt countless stares laser-focused on me. Whispers followed like shadows.

"Look, that's the trailer park girl..."

"I heard her mom hooked up with Blackwood..."

"Real-life Cinderella story..."

I chose an empty table in the corner. Just as I sat down, I heard a familiar voice.

"Look who we have here."