The Quinn War (2015)

Chapter Seven: A Red Christmas!

The morning of December 17th dawned cold and crisp over Kent. The Quinn mansion was a hive of activity, as preparations for Francesca’s grand Christmas party were in full swing. This event was the highlight of the season, attracting the crème de la crème of London’s elite. Francesca, known for her meticulous planning, had worked tirelessly to ensure every detail was perfect. However, beneath the veneer of festive cheer, she harboured a dark plan: tonight, the Johnstons would meet their end.

Francesca woke early, the chill of the morning seeping through the large windows of her opulent bedroom. She stretched, pushing away the unease that gnawed at her stomach. Today had to be flawless. She quickly dressed in comfortable yet stylish attire, ready to oversee the final preparations.

Downstairs, the kitchen was a flurry of activity. Skye and Kirsten, both skilled in their own right, were directing the staff. Skye ensured the caterers had everything they needed while Kirsten coordinated the decorators, making sure every wreath and garland was perfectly placed.

Amelia, always a steady presence, was in the study, reviewing the guest list and finalising the seating arrangements. Her phone buzzed with constant updates and questions, but she handled them with her usual calm efficiency.

“Morning, Frankie,” Skye greeted as Francesca entered the kitchen, her voice warm but her eyes sharp with focus. “Everything’s on track, but we need your final approval on the ice sculptures.”

Francesca nodded, glancing at the detailed sketches. “They look perfect. Make sure the placement is near the entrance; I want them to be the first thing guests see.”

Kirsten walked in, wiping her hands on a towel. “We need to finalise the music. The string quartet has a few new pieces they want to try.”

Francesca sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Let’s stick with the classics. There is no need to overcomplicate things.”

Amelia appeared at the doorway, her eyes scanning a tablet. “Everything else is under control. Just one thing, Francesca—are you sure about tonight?”

Francesca met her friend’s gaze, a steely determination in her eyes. “I am. This ends tonight. The Johnstons have had their reign long enough.”

Meanwhile, across town, Cameron and Kerys were at Ricky’s house, preparing for the journey to London. It was 11 AM, and it was nearly time to leave. The living room was cosy, filled with the warmth of a crackling fire and the soft hum of Christmas music playing in the background. Ricky, a jovial man with a love for the holiday season, was talking animatedly about their plans.

“I love Christmas,” Ricky said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “The lights, the music, the food. It’s the best time of the year.”

Kerys, curled up on the sofa, smiled. “Absolutely. There’s something magical about it.”

Cameron nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. “Yeah, it’s great. Hey, where’s Kieran? Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

Phyllis entered the room, wiping her hands on an apron. “We need to go soon. We don’t want to be late.”

Kerys frowned. “We can’t go yet. We’re still waiting for Kieran.”

Ricky’s cheerful demeanour faltered slightly. “Cameron, can you call him? We need to get moving.”

Cameron pulled out his phone and dialled Kieran’s number. After a few rings, Kieran answered, his voice tired and strained.

“Hey, Kieran. Where are you? We need to leave for London.”

“Cam, I can’t make it,” Kieran replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Mum’s taken ill, and I’m at the local hospital with her.”

Cameron frowned. “Is she okay?”