The Rise of John Raymond

Chapter 29 : Payback Is a Bitch

At the vast Raymond estate, a quiet bustle filled the air as preparations intensified. The chief butler, a tall, grey-haired man with a precise accent and a clipboard in hand, moved from room to room, addressing the staff with calm authority.

“Mr. John prefers his coffee light with no sugar. Never disturb him when he’s reading. And for heaven’s sake, don’t attempt small talk—he hates that in the mornings,” the butler recited as maids and junior staff nodded, absorbing every instruction like sacred commandments.

Though John hadn’t yet officially moved into the family mansion, the chief butler knew well enough that the Raymond legacy didn’t wait for formalities. It was better to prepare the house for its rightful heir in advance—especially one who had already started shaking the entire city with his name alone.

While the household buzzed with anticipation, John’s grandfather, the patriarch of the Raymond family, sat in a conference room inside his private office wing, surrounded by his most trusted board members—men and women who had stood beside him for over four decades, building empires.

Thick legal documents were stacked neatly on the long mahogany table. The old man flipped through them with sharp eyes, double-checking every signature, every clause, every detail. He knew what was coming. Soon, the entire empire would be passed on to his grandson—and nothing could afford to go wrong.

In the middle of an intense discussion about a multi-billion-dollar merger, the secretary leaned forward and discreetly handed him his buzzing phone.

The caller ID flashed John.

The old man smiled like a child who had just been told he was going to the candy shop.

He looked up, eyes twinkling, and said, “He is indeed my grandson.”

Then, with a subtle wave of his hand, he dismissed the meeting momentarily, rotating his chair to face the window as he answered the call.

RING! RING!

“Hello Grandpa,” came John’s voice, low and heavy with exhaustion.

“John, my beloved grandson. How are you today?” his grandfather replied, his tone instantly brightening.

“I’m fine, Grandpa... but—” John’s voice faltered, barely above a whisper. It sent a jolt of concern through the older man’s spine.

“What’s wrong now?” he asked gently, immediately alert. That tone—John only used it when something was deeply troubling him.

“I’m sorry to be a bother,” John said, still low-spirited.

“Nonsense. Speak freely and openly with me. Your pain is my pain. Go on.”

There was a pause. His grandfather waited patiently, not pressing—just listening.

“Are you home now?” John finally asked.

“Yes, of course. Where else would I be?”

“I’m coming over,” John said decisively.

The old man’s face lit up with joy. “Really? That’s great! I was about to call you to come over.”

“Thank you, Grandpa. See you soon.”

The call ended, but the warmth lingered. The grandfather gently returned the phone to the secretary and turned to the board members.

“We’ll resume shortly,” he said, a pleased smile forming as he stared out the window.

Not long after, John arrived at the mansion. He had requested a driver because of the maze-like nature of the estate—something he knew he’d eventually master, but not today.

The moment he stepped out of the vehicle, the chief butler was already there, waiting with a deep bow. “Welcome, Master John. Your grandfather is in the conference room. Follow me.”

John was sharply dressed—neatly tailored suit, polished shoes, and that quiet air of someone who had grown overnight. As they walked through the grand corridor, the butler leaned slightly toward him and whispered, “Sir is in an important board meeting. Just so you know what environment you're walking into.”

John gave a small nod.

When they reached the door, the butler opened it with a small bow and gestured him in. “Good luck, Master John.”

The doors closed behind him.

“John!” his grandfather called out the moment he saw him. His face lit up with pride as he walked over and offered John the seat right beside him.

John took the seat quietly, offering respectful nods to the distinguished board members who studied him with interest and approval.

Then, the old man stood and addressed the room.

“Every great man leaves a great legacy. My greatest legacy is not my wealth or this empire. It’s you, my dear grandson.”

He turned to John and opened a sealed folder, presenting it before the entire room.

“As of today, you are now the official heir of the Raymond family empire.”

He handed John the legal wealth documents—court-stamped and notarised, bound in royal blue leather.

The final step was biometric authentication.

John pressed his thumb onto the scanner, then leaned forward for a facial recognition scan. A soft beep followed. The room was silent.

Then, the legal officer standing by the corner nodded. “It’s official.”

The boardroom erupted in applause. Handshakes followed. John stood and shook hands with men and women who had built nations with contracts and broken monopolies with phone calls. Each one welcomed him like royalty.

“If you need us, we’re a dial away,” one of them told John.

“You’re the future now,” another said warmly.

John thanked them, accepting their blessings with the quiet poise of someone born for this.

His grandfather, proud as ever, interrupted the congratulations.

“There are more allies you’ll meet soon—people whose loyalty is invaluable. But these here,” he said, sweeping his hand across the room, “are your inner circle. Use them well. They’re yours now.”

After the handshakes and words of wisdom, the board members began to file out, leaving John alone with his grandfather.

The old man leaned forward, arching a brow. “Now, will you finally tell me what’s making you swell up like yeast in bread? You know I may be old, but I was young once. Check me out—I’m still a young man.”

John actually chuckled.

But the smile didn’t last long.

He leaned in, his voice dropping. “Grandpa, I need your help.”

His grandfather’s face shifted immediately, growing serious. “With what?”

John drew in a breath, his heart tightening. “It’s about someone I care about. Her name is Anna Thompson.”

The old man nodded slowly. “Thompson... of course. Good family. What’s going on?”

“There’s this guy—Noel. His family forced Anna into an arranged marriage with him. It’s part of a business contract between their families. She has no say. No choice. And the worst part? He’s violent. Controlling. Arrogant. She’d be destroyed in that marriage, Grandpa. She won’t survive it.”

John’s voice cracked slightly. He tried to mask it, but his grandfather caught it.

The old man’s fingers curled into a fist. “That’s a lot, John.”

“It gets worse. Her family signed the contract months ago. They’re trapped. And so is she. They don’t have the power or influence to challenge the Johnsons.”

The name Johnson lit a fire in the old man’s eyes.

“We need to do something,” John said, voice trembling with urgency.

“We need to deal with the Johnsons NOW!” his grandfather roared suddenly, slamming his hand down on the desk. The force echoed through the conference room.

The intensity in his eyes was no longer just familial—it was territorial. Like someone had dared to trespass in his kingdom.