The Rise of John Raymond

Chapter 50: The missing Vase

“It’s gone!” The man in the gold outfit’s voice tore through the room like a crack of thunder. His shock was genuine, his anger unfiltered. He had been ready to pay any price for the legendary Vase of Eternity, hoping its promise of eternal life could restore his family’s legacy and heal the wounds of the past. Now, staring into the empty box, that hope collapsed like a house of cards.

“How can ten ounces of gold-plated vase just vanish like that?” King’s voice rang out, incredulous. He moved forward quickly, pushing aside two ushers to look inside the case himself. His reaction was even more explosive. “Security! Close the gates! We are not leaving here until the vase is found!” His command cracked with authority, his anger barely contained.

The security guards stationed near the doors didn’t hesitate. They moved swiftly, their polished shoes clicking on the marble floor, sliding the heavy gates shut.

“Close the gates?” The young CEO, dressed in sleek black with diamonds glittering at her ears, raised a perfectly shaped brow. “Mr King, that is an insult to our integrity.” Her tone dripped with offense, her pride wounded.

King turned toward her, his expression softening just enough to keep the situation from erupting further. “I do apologise, but it would be far more of a stain on my integrity if I allowed a thief to walk out of here unnoticed. If you will excuse me.” Without waiting for her reply, he strode away from the center of the room, heading straight for the CCTV control room.

He muttered under his breath as he walked. “I only left here for an hour… one hour… and this is what happens.”

Downstairs, the guests were restless. Their murmurs spread like wildfire through the hall. The idea of being locked in over an $11 million vase—one some suspected might even be a clever imitation—was infuriating to them.

“If it’s that valuable,” an older elite whispered to the man beside him, “why would King want to sell it to us at all?”

John heard the whispers. He could feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere, the undercurrent of suspicion now swirling through the crowd. Many of those whispers carried his name. Yet he kept his focus on the one thing he could control: helping King find the vase.

He moved through the crowd, gesturing to the ushers. “Bring out some of the best wine. Put it on my tab.” His voice was calm, measured. The waiters obeyed immediately, weaving between tables to pour the rich crimson liquid into crystal glasses.

Some guests softened with the offering, raising their glasses in silent acceptance. Others refused outright. “This is not about wine,” one guest scoffed. “It is about character. And some of us still have it.”

King, watching from the CCTV room, saw everything. He saw John’s quiet gesture, heard the way he was trying to calm the storm. But King’s attention quickly shifted back to the footage. He scrubbed through hours of recording, eyes narrowing at every shadow and movement.

Then he saw it. The thief. And the sight made his blood run cold.

It was not someone he could expose now—not without destroying John’s future. The person was connected to the very tragedy that had taken John’s parents’ lives and held ties to some of the most powerful CEOs in the room.

King sat back, exhaling heavily. This had started as a test for John—to see how he handled crisis when surrounded by power and suspicion. But now the test had spun out of control. If he revealed the truth, the damage would be far worse than the loss of the vase.

When he finally left the CCTV room, King looked like a man carrying an anvil on his shoulders. He walked into the main hall with no plan, only the certainty that he needed to protect both John and himself.

“Why is he taking so long?” an impatient guest asked, swirling his wine with an air of superiority.

“I leave all my paperwork at the office just to face more paperwork here?” another grumbled, pounding the table with his palm.

“This is ridiculous. Someone should call the police,” the woman in the yellow silk dress suggested loudly, folding her arms. “This is a crime scene, after all.”

“I cannot believe someone still managed to steal with all the security King bragged about,” the man in the red suit muttered to no one in particular.

John, overhearing, stopped mid-step. “You do realise there is security at the entrance but none at the exits, correct?” he said evenly before walking away.

“You sound like you have studied this place very well,” a deep voice interrupted. John turned to find himself facing the man in the gold outfit—towering, broad-shouldered, his stance as immovable as a stone pillar.

“What exactly are you implying?” John asked, his tone hardening.

“What do you think I am implying, thief?” The word hung in the air like a slap.

John’s eyes narrowed. “You called me what?”

“I called you a thief!” The man in gold stepped closer, his voice rising. “This is your first time here. We all know each other’s faces, good or bad, but the moment you arrive, the second auction item disappears. You even know the flaws in the security system. If you are not the thief, then who are you?”

The accusation was followed by the man’s large hands grabbing John’s collar, yanking him forward. Gasps rippled through the room.

“I said I am not a thief!” John growled, struggling against the iron grip, but the man’s size and strength made resistance nearly useless.

“Hold him!” the man in gold barked. “Let us beat the truth out of him. I have enough strength for this.”

A few other elites stood, their expensive shoes and cufflinks gleaming under the chandeliers as they moved to assist.

King saw the chaos from across the room. He knew John well enough by now to know that if he didn’t intervene immediately, they would leave him battered—or worse.

“Enough!” King’s voice cracked through the noise like a gunshot.

When the crowd didn’t immediately freeze, he repeated it louder. “I said enough!” This time, the command was punctuated by the actual sound of a gun firing into the air.

The entire room went still. The sharp scent of gunpowder lingered faintly.

“Easy, King,” the lady in yellow silk said quickly, hands raised slightly. “Let’s not take this any further.”

“Exactly my point,” King said, lowering the gun. “The boy is innocent. And I know who the thief is. So back off.”

Reluctantly, the man in gold released John, though his glare lingered. “Then who is the thief?” he asked.

“It is someone who has already left,” King replied, his tone even but firm. “But they will not stay free. I will track them down. Tyler!”

“Yes, sir!” came the prompt reply from a suited man near the wall.

“Refund this gentleman his money. And add compensation for the trouble.”

“Yes, sir.” Tyler moved immediately to the man in gold, beginning the process of returning the funds.

“Now,” King turned to address the room at large, “let us get back to business. There are other items of interest tonight, unless you want to miss out on them.”

Just like that, the crowd’s attention shifted back to their seats. Conversations resumed, wine glasses clinked, and the auction continued as though the last fifteen minutes had not happened.

John, still sitting on the floor, stared blankly. The sudden shift left him disoriented. One moment, he had been fighting for his dignity. The next, the crowd had forgotten he existed.

King stepped over, his expression unreadable. “Get up. This is another life lesson. Never forget it. You always have the power to control the narrative. Understand?” He pulled John to his feet and gestured for an usher to lead him back to his seat.

As John sat down, his thoughts swirled. The more time he spent with King, the more he realised why his grandfather had sent him here.