The Rise of John Raymond

Chapter 53: Back to School Planning

The air in the shed was thick with the scent of aged wood and engine oil, but there was also a certain charged stillness in it—a stillness that carried weight. John’s grandfather was already seated behind the large oak desk, his posture as straight as ever, a file resting neatly in front of him.

It wasn’t just any file. It was the kind of file that could change the pace of someone’s life.

He had been working on this plan for months—selecting, vetting, and quietly arranging a group of elite experts to join John’s inner circle. Not the board of directors—these were different. These people were going to be his silent arsenal, his shield, his compass. They would be more than advisers; they would be teachers, colleagues, and sometimes the last voice of reason before John made the kinds of decisions that could make or break an empire.

But before John could be trusted with such a team, his grandfather had wanted proof—proof that the boy could hold his own in the dangerous world of power brokers and shadow networks. That proof had come the moment John had secured King’s approval.

His grandfather’s eyes were steady as John walked into the shed.

“I was initially bothered that you would not be able to get King’s approval,” his grandfather began, his tone measured but with an unmistakable undertone of satisfaction. “His methods are not exactly modern. But it seems like you got him right where I needed you to get him. King is an important person—not just for public influence but for networking through the underground channels. However”—he leaned forward slightly—“having him along is not all.”

John remained silent, sensing there was more.

“I have put together an elite team,” his grandfather continued, “to guide you and to give you all the data you need to make clear, accurate decisions before those board meetings. They will be your teachers and your colleagues. Do not be proud. Take their advice. Be open-minded and listen to them.”

John’s eyes widened with a spark of excitement.

“Also”—his grandfather’s voice deepened—“you are the boss. Don’t forget that. Your words are law.”

With that, he slid the file across the desk toward John. The moment John’s hands touched the cool leather cover, he felt its weight—not in mass, but in responsibility.

He opened it carefully, eyes scanning the neatly printed list. His chest tightened—not in fear, but in a strange, almost boyish joy. These were names he had seen in business magazines, the kinds of people he had once read about from the corner of a library table. International consultants, industry titans, corporate strategists from the world’s most ruthless markets.

And now… they were going to be his.

“They’re incredible,” John said, still looking at the file as though afraid the names might vanish.

“I know,” his grandfather replied, his voice even but his eyes watching John closely.

John closed the file slowly and looked up. “When do I meet them? When do we start working?”

His grandfather smirked faintly. “Hold your horses, princess. They are coming here tomorrow. I’ll send the jet to pick them up.”

The words made John’s face light up. Without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped his grandfather in a tight embrace.

“Don’t kill me with hugs,” the older man said with a small chuckle. “Off you go now. I got an email that school resumes soon, and I have asked the chief butler to secure an appointment at the store for you. You’ll need some new clothes for college, now that you are fully a Raymond.”

John grinned. “You’re the best!”

He pulled away and headed straight for his room, mind buzzing with both the prospect of meeting his elite team and the sudden reminder of school life ahead.

As he walked, he quickly pulled out his phone and opened the group chat he shared with Anna and Collins.

John: Shopping spree at the store. Meet me there. We’re going all out.

He barely waited for their replies before tossing the phone on his bed and beginning to get ready.

While brushing his hair, his phone chimed. A notification flashed—it was from Anna. But he didn’t open it. He was too wrapped up in the rush of anticipation. Whatever she had to say, they could talk about in person.

Within minutes, he was in his car, the engine purring under his touch as he headed toward the store.

The moment he arrived, he noticed something was… off. People were looking at him in that way—side glances that were neither admiration nor curiosity, but something sharper, heavier.

At first, he smirked to himself. Maybe he looked too good today. But the stares didn’t feel flattering.

A chill crept up his spine.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen was flooded with missed calls and unread messages—his grandfather, Anna, Collins.

His gut tightened.

Stepping out of the store entrance, he hurried back to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat and closing the tinted windows. He opened the first message and his world stopped for a moment.

The event from last night—every heated moment, every harsh word—was online. The video had leaked. And not just leaked. It was everywhere.

John’s hands trembled slightly as he scrolled through the barrage of messages. In one clip, the words echoed like a curse: thief. And worse, the image of him being manhandled, dragged like a common criminal.

The air in the car felt suffocating. His first thought was to call King. No—his grandfather. No—Anna. His mind was scrambling in circles, unable to settle on a first move.

Then a headline from one of the major networks caught his eye:

RAYMOND STOCKS CRASH BY 5% AS A RESULT OF THE HEIR BEING CALLED A THIEF AND BEING MANHANDLED.

The words seemed to burn into his retinas. He dropped the phone onto the floor, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

This was it. The nightmare he had been trying to avoid. The kind of public blow that could take months—years—to recover from.

A shrill ringtone shattered the silence inside the car. John glanced at the screen. His grandfather.

His chest tightened. “What am I going to tell him?” he muttered.

The phone kept ringing. He considered ignoring it, but he knew better.

With a deep breath, he answered.

For the next minute, John barely spoke—just short, calm replies. He had expected his grandfather to rage, to curse, to demand explanations. Instead, the older man’s voice was steady. Almost too steady. The calm before a storm he could not yet see.

When the call ended, John exhaled heavily, but the reprieve lasted only seconds.

A sharp knock rattled the glass of his car window.

His mind jumped immediately to the worst-case scenario. “Don’t tell me the paparazzi has found me,” he whispered under his breath.

The knocking didn’t stop.

His phone lit up again with an incoming call. This time, the name on the caller ID made his stomach drop—not in dread, but in recognition.

He looked toward the window, and it all clicked.

With a slow motion, he lowered the glass to speak to the person outside.