The Rise of John Raymond

Chapter 40: The Contract

Agnes crossed her legs and tilted her head slightly, her gaze settling on Bobby before darting to John. The room still carried the weight of John’s loud interruption from earlier, and though the tension had slightly eased, curiosity had replaced conflict. Everyone was waiting for John’s next move. Agnes, in particular, was eager to see how the young heir would walk the tightrope between diplomacy and authority.

John, on the other hand, felt like his lungs were barely keeping up with his heart rate. Every beat echoed in his ears like a ticking time bomb. It was his first time taking charge in such a heated room, and though he was determined to make a mark, the pressure was immense. Every eye, every breath, every pause in that room was pointed directly at him.

But he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, stood to his feet, and let it all out in a steady voice.

“First, I must commend all of your efforts in building this glorious empire,” John said, his voice calm and sure. “My desire is to continue joining hands with all of you to take the empire to the next level.”

There were murmurs across the table—some approving, others quietly sceptical. But even the most doubtful among them couldn’t deny the calm maturity in his tone.

“Wow. He’s trying to butter us up before slicing us,” Agnes muttered under her breath, not loud enough for the room to hear, but just enough for Jamal beside her to catch.

“Or he’s just doing what a good diplomat does in chaos,” Jamal replied coolly, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he looked away again, disappointed she still wouldn’t meet him halfway.

John pressed on.

“Like I mentioned earlier, we are here to move forward. I have gone through the contract myself and noticed some loopholes that are not favorable to all of us.”

That statement caused a slight stir. Several board members sat up straighter. Some exchanged glances, while others raised their brows. A few began scrolling again through their digital pads, visibly curious or perhaps eager to prove him wrong.

“Loopholes?” Chucks, the family estate manager, exclaimed as if genuinely confused. “I’ve read this five times. It looks just fine to me.”

“I agree,” Hera added with a confused glance at John. “I’ve revised it twice myself. Legally, it checks out.”

“I’ll take another look,” Lea muttered and tapped quickly on her screen. “Let’s see what dear John is referring to.”

The room grew quiet once more, the soft sound of fingers sliding over screens the only thing breaking the silence.

At the far end of the table, Emily sat unbothered, her polished nails tapping gently against her pad. She knew what loophole John was referring to, even if she pretended not to. After all, she’d been counting on it. That little clause, buried in the subtext of page thirty-two, would have sent an untraceable sum into one of her private offshore accounts. She’d already planned which island she would purchase. It was supposed to be the perfect deal.

Then came the voice that ruined it all.

“I found it!” Martin exclaimed, his tone triumphant as he held up his screen. “Page thirty-two. Section C, Sub-Clause 4. The redistribution clause. It redirects unused allocation into a personal development fund—but no specified recipient is listed. That’s a loophole if I’ve ever seen one.”

Heads turned. Several pads flashed to the referenced page.

Emily’s jaw tightened. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she clenched her fists beneath the table. That island was as good as hers. Now? Gone. Just like that. Because of Martin. Because of John.

John glanced at Emily briefly. She didn’t return the look.

He then looked toward his grandfather, seeking even the smallest nod of confirmation or approval. But instead, the older man’s expression remained unreadable. A few seconds later, a single text appeared on John’s private screen.

“This is your call now.”

And with that, John knew he stood alone.

He took a deep breath, then addressed the room once more.

“Thank you, Martin, for pointing it out. Secretary, please read out the clause for the board.”

The secretary stood up promptly and began to read the clause aloud. Her voice was steady but carried a weight that seemed to slow the air in the room. As she finished, there was a mix of sighs, raised eyebrows, and growing murmurs.

“This would’ve cost us a fortune,” someone whispered.

“No oversight puts money in a fund without a named recipient,” said another.

John waited for the room to settle, then turned his mic back on.

“It's evident to say that this clause was an oversight on our part and also on the part of our external partners. Therefore, I would suggest we return the contract with our revised terms. If they agree, it's a deal. If they don't, we walk away and find new partners. We have the resources. We don’t need to be tied down by unclear deals.”

A stunned silence followed. And then, a slow build of applause. One by one, board members nodded, impressed.

“Well played,” Agnes whispered, sipping from her glass with a subtle smirk.

The discussion quickly moved to the next issue—one that gripped the table with fear and urgency.

There had been a breach in one of their estates in Scotland.

A breach that resulted in death.

The details were still unclear. But what was certain was that a wealthy stakeholder—one who handled sensitive affairs for the Raymond empire—had been murdered. And the incident was about to hit the media.

The secretary brought up images of the estate, showing security footage that had been recovered. The footage was hazy, grainy. A figure dressed in black. No face. No trace. Just one dead man and a storm waiting to explode.

“If this leaks,” Agnes warned, her tone severe, “we will be dealing with more than stock dips. Our trust ratings in Europe will be compromised. Politicians will back out. Journalists will tear us apart.”

“Do we have a suspect?” Carter asked.

“Not yet,” Cole, the head of security, replied. “The area was swept clean. No digital trace. No fingerprints. No forced entry. Whoever it was—knew the system well.”

“Then we have a traitor,” John said firmly.

The room froze.

“And what do you suggest?” Hera asked.

John stood again. “I suggest we hire a private investigator—one outside of our network. Someone clean. The victim wasn’t just rich. He had access to our dealings in Scotland. Someone wanted him silenced. That’s not robbery. That’s a calculated message.”

Whispers filled the room again.

“He’s smarter than we thought,” Jamal muttered, half-smiling.

“I know,” Hera said quietly. “I just wish that old fool had died before revealing the location of the hidden gold reserves we stashed from the others.”

Jamal gave her a side glance. “Let’s just hope he didn’t tell John.”

Emily and Agnes locked eyes again. There was a silent exchange—one deeper than words.

“We need to do something about John,” Emily whispered to Agnes. “And fast.”

Agnes nodded, her expression unreadable.

John remained unaware of the silent plots forming around him. But he could sense that something in the room had shifted. Power had its price. And today, he’d just taken a little too much.

The meeting ended shortly after with a consensus to redraft the contract and to employ an external investigator for the Scotland breach.

The board members rose from their seats, stood in a circle, and recited their long-standing creed—a sacred tradition that bound their loyalty to the Raymond empire.

John repeated the words carefully, understanding them differently now. These weren’t just words. They were a vow. A warning. A legacy.

As the room emptied out, John's grandfather walked slowly toward him, offering no immediate words. But there was a glint in his eye that John hadn’t seen before.

Pride.

Still, beneath it was something else—an understanding that John would need to make difficult choices ahead. That soon, he would have to pick allies. Create leverage. Maybe even play dirty. Just like everyone else in that room.