My stepmom Linda has always been a handful. Ever since her marriage with my dad when I was ten, she’s had a knack for making everything about her. Whether it was graduations, birthdays, or family dinners, she somehow always managed to steal the spotlight. However, I never imagined she’d pull something as audacious as wearing a white gown to my wedding.

The lead-up to my wedding had already been peppered with her unsubtle hints. “Don’t you think I deserve a big role in the ceremony?” she’d asked more than once, batting her eyelashes. I’d politely dodged her comments, thinking it was just Linda being Linda.

On the wedding day, I was in my suite, getting ready with my maid of honor, Sarah, when she suddenly burst in, looking pale. “You won’t believe this,” she grabbed my hand and dragged me to the window.

I looked outside, and I saw Linda, stepping out of her car in a dazzling white, beaded wedding dress. My heart sank. She wasn’t just trying to stand out—she was actively trying to upstage me.

Fuming, I stormed out to confront her. “Linda, what are you doing? You can’t wear white to my wedding!”

She smirked. “I wanted to feel like a bride again. White looks so good on me, and, honestly, I deserve this attention.”

I was livid. “This is my day! How could you think this is okay?”

Before I could continue, my husband-to-be, Tom, appeared beside me. He gently took my hand and said, “Let me handle this.” His calm demeanor and the mischievous glint in his eye made me pause.

“Linda,” he said with a charming smile, “you look stunning. Really, you do. But since this is Anna’s wedding, we wouldn’t want there to be any confusion about who the bride is, right?”

Linda blinked, clearly not expecting him to agree with her. “Well, of course, but—”

Tom cut her off smoothly. “Exactly. So, I’ve got the perfect solution. Let’s make sure you *really* stand out.”

Tom called over one of the event staff and whispered something in their ear. Within minutes, a waiter arrived with a massive glass of red wine and “accidentally” stumbled, spilling the entire thing down the front of Linda’s pristine white gown.

The gasp she let out was Oscar-worthy.

“Oh no, Linda! I’m so sorry!” Tom exclaimed, though his face betrayed not a hint of regret. “But you know, I think this shade of red really pops on you. It’s bold, attention-grabbing—perfect for someone like you!”

Linda was too flustered to respond, sputtering as she tried to dab at the stain. “I… I can’t believe this!”

“Don’t worry,” Tom said, still cool as a cucumber. “There’s a boutique down the street. I’m sure they can find you something just as stunning—in a different color.”

Linda stormed off, and by the time she returned in a much more appropriate pastel dress, the ceremony was well underway.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. Tom’s quick thinking had not only diffused the situation but ensured Linda wouldn’t pull any more stunts. As we danced at the reception later that evening, I whispered to him, “Remind me to thank you properly for that.”

He grinned. “Anything for my bride.”

Linda may have tried to steal the show, but Tom made sure the day was exactly what it was supposed to be—ours.