Linda, my stepmom, came into my life when I was ten. She loved attention and made sure the wedding day was no different. “These flowers need to be perfect,” she said, arranging them with exaggerated care. I forced a smile and tried to stay calm, but I knew she would find a way to make the day about her.

At the wedding planner’s office, Grace informed me that Linda insisted on sitting in the front row and giving a speech. “Isn’t that usually reserved for the bride’s mother or father?” Sarah, my maid of honor, asked. I felt the familiar frustration rise. Linda always managed to be the star of the show.

On the wedding day, Linda arrived in a full-length white wedding dress. “Oh, darling, you have your whole life ahead of you. This might be my last chance to feel like a bride again. I deserve this attention,” she smirked. Tom, my husband, had a plan. He played a tribute to my late mother, which moved everyone. Then, Tom revealed Linda’s antics, showing photos and a recording of her boasting about her plan to outshine me.

Linda’s ex-husband also shared stories about her past, exposing her true nature. Red-faced and cornered, Linda slipped out quietly. Tom and I shared a smile, knowing we taught her a lesson. She got the spotlight she craved but for all the wrong reasons.