Alexandra expected mayhem when her stepmom came at her wedding in a white outfit, claiming she deserved attention. Alexandra expected turmoil when her stepmom came at her wedding in a white outfit, demanding attention. Her spouse had a surprise plan to change the situation.

Marianne stressed, “These flowers have to be absolutely perfect,” arranging them meticulously. “After all, this is a big day for our family.”

I sipped tea softly at the dining table to calm my anxieties.

Daddy stared at her proudly. “Marianne has such an incredible eye for these things,” he said.

My pleasant grin was strained. “They do look beautiful, Marianne,” I said.

After my mother died, Marianne became my stepmother when I was ten. Today, she loved attention more than anything.

She meticulously placed each petal on the flowers. She moved like a stage performer. I wondered what part she’d play at the wedding.

Are you thrilled about the wedding, Dad? I asked, urgently attempting to change the topic.

His eyes shone as he nodded. “Definitely, Emily. A lovely day is coming.”

Marianne said, “Yes, and everything must be flawless. These things don’t happen every day.”

I nodded but was thinking elsewhere. I knew Marianne would make the day about her. She always did.

I remembered birthdays and holidays when she became the main attraction and pushed me into the background.

Marianne’s constant fussing about the flowers increased my uneasiness. I just wanted to enjoy my wedding, but Marianne made it hard.

“Do you need help, Marianne?” Despite my anxiety, I requested politely.

She dismissed me swiftly. “No, dear. I have everything under control.”

“Alright,” I responded, attempting another little grin. Dad, I’m leaving. I must be somewhere.”

I met my closest friend and maid of honor Lucy at our wedding planner Grace’s office.

Why does the bride appear sad? Lucy teased and hugged me.

I hugged her back, saying, “I guess I’m just nervous.”

Do not! The finest day ever is coming! Come on, we’re late.”

Together, we entered Grace’s office.

Grace glanced up from her notes, hesitant. “Well, Emily, your stepmother has requested a front row seat and a speech during the reception,” she continued, looking at me warily.

My whole body froze. Marianne and I discussed this. How could she reconsider?

“Isn’t that space usually for the bride’s parents?” A gloomy Lucy replied.

Grace nods. Traditional first row seating is for parents. Marianne shouldn’t sit there because your father will be there and you’ve reserved a space for your late mother.

She hesitated. “And the speech is usually for close family members you choose or invite.”

Sighing, I felt the old irritation build in my chest. She must perform at every key time. I suppose she has a big plan!”

Lucy said quietly as she leaned forward. “We need to be ready for whatever she plans.”

Grace expressed worry as she inquired, “How would you like us to handle this, Emily?”

It was thoroughly considered. Could you kindly tell her the front row is for my parents and advise she seat in the second row?

“That sounds like a very reasonable approach,” Grace said. What about the speech?

Strongly shaking my head. “I would rather she not speak. That moment honors my mother and celebrates our marriage. Her twist will make it all about her.”

Nodding strongly, Lucy agreed. We may have someone else talk. Perhaps a relative of your mother?

“That’s a perfect idea,” I responded, feeling lighter. “I want all speeches to be respectful and meaningful.”

Grace rapidly wrote notes. “I’ll handle it. We’ll keep everything on track.”

Lucy comfortingly gripped my arm as we left Grace’s office.

Avoid stress, Em. She vowed not to let Marianne spoil your day.

Honestly hoping she was correct, I nodded.

Back at the apartment, I wanted to rant to Ben, my fiancé.

“Marianne is determined to be the star of the show,” I said after dropping my suitcase at the entrance. “She wants to give a reception speech and sit in the front row.”

Ben shielded me. “We’ll handle it together. You have company.”

Heavy-hearted, I embraced him.

“It’s more than just a seat or a speech,” I murmured, looking into his eyes. “She always invades my mom’s space. We wanted to honor my mother by reserving her a front-row seat. I think Marianne will dominate the wedding.”

Ben smiled confidently and gently. “Trust me. Have a plan. Let her believe she’s winning now. Everything will work.”

“What kind of plan?” With interest, I inquired.

He gently kissed my forehead. It’s surprising. I swear no one will detract from us or your mother.”

Sighing, I relaxed but was still frightened. “I hope you’re right. I want things to go smoothly. Marianne is erratic.”

Ben forcefully gripped my hand. “I know. This is ours. As a team.”

I nodded, attempting to absorb his serenity. “Thanks, Ben. I appreciate it.”

“Always, my love,” he responded, smiling. “Now, let’s enjoy our evening and forget Marianne.”

Feeling appreciative for his encouragement, I smiled slightly.

Wedding day finally came.

I was delighted and nervous.

Lucy entered the room, ghostly pale, as I was having my hair done in my robe.

You won’t believe this!” My arm was pulled toward the window as she yelled.

My body stiffened as I gazed outside. Marianne appeared in a long, dazzling white wedding dress.

What the… How could she?! Angered, I gasped.

“Marianne! You can’t wear white to my wedding!” I yelled and ran to her, furious.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she purred smugly, without remorse. “You’re young. There are many years to be the bride. This may be my only opportunity to feel bridelike. I deserve this attention.”

Ben ran over and carefully pushed me away before I could burst. “Trust me. Let it go for now,” he whispered, his eyes lighting up with something I couldn’t read.

“But Ben! How could she—

“Trust me,” he said. Though my blood was boiling, I agreed unwillingly.

The ceremony began. Marianne boldly took her seat in the front row, shining in her stolen limelight. Grace glanced at me helplessly, showing that Marianne had pushed into that seat.

I had trouble focusing on Ben and our vows. His steady, encouraging gaze was on me. I lost trust in Ben’s mystery strategy every time I saw Marianne’s smug smile.

Finally, speeches. I held my breath, anticipating her move.

Marianne rose to take the microphone. Ben easily moved forward before she could speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke slowly and authoritatively. I would like to present a special video tribute to Emily’s late mother before we continue.”

Lights darkened. A wonderful video of my mother with calm music and meaningful remarks started playing. I cried and observed several visitors wipe their tears. Marianne was surprised, losing her proud grin.

Ben grinned at me after the homage. Emily, today is about honoring your mother and celebrating our love. Nobody can take it from us.”

So he turned to Marianne. “Marianne, could you come up here?”

Marianne became excited. She apparently expected recognition or admiration. She boldly approached the stage.

Ben said, “Marianne has always loved the spotlight. So we gave her a chance to shine today.”

A fresh slideshow started abruptly. It started with innocuous Marianne in her white dress photographs. The camera immediately turned to her sneaking into my wedding room that morning, trying on my veil, whirling my bouquet, and acting like a bride.

The room gasped. Marianne became red.

Ben was far from done. “Oh, there’s more,” he told the DJ.

A recorded phone conversation from Marianne blared around the room: “That silly little princess needs to be put in her place. My opportunity has come after waiting long enough.”

Whole room frozen. Guests gasped and booed at her. Ben hugged me and said, “I told you I had it handled.”

But he continued.

Ben then brought Marianne’s ex-husband onstage. The guy told tale after story about Marianne’s manipulation and selfishness.

Marianne, mortified beyond words, sought to leave quietly. Ben and I smiled triumphantly.

She finally received the attention she wanted, but not in the manner she wanted. A moment she would never forget.