Lila’s POV

I’ve hated Connor since the day Mom married him two years ago.

He walked into our house like he already owned it—broad shoulders filling every doorway, voice low and calm when he spoke to Mom, but always with that edge that made me feel small. He called me “princess” the first time we met, like it was cute, like I was still twelve instead of seventeen. I rolled my eyes and walked away, but the word stuck. Every time he said it after that—passing me in the hallway, handing me a plate at dinner, telling me to turn the music down—it landed like a hand on the back...