The Rise of John Raymond

Retaliation in Silence

The night air was still thick with echoes of disbelief and unanswered questions when John returned quietly to the hostel. The party in the hall raged on without him, but the energy had clearly shifted. Many students left early—some out of fear, others out of shame, and a few out of curiosity about who John truly was.

Anna, Collins, and a few close friends had also left. They said nothing to each other as they walked back to their rooms, lost in thought. What had just happened that evening was more than a revelation—it was a shake-up that had changed the very hierarchy of the campus.

John didn’t say a word to anyone as he entered his room. The lights were off. He didn’t turn them on. He just sat at the edge of his bed and stared into nothingness.

He could still hear their voices—the whispers, the grumbling, the disbelief.

“He’s a Raymond?”

“So that’s where the money came from…”

“But he used to sweep the lounges.”

“I think he’s dangerous.”

John didn’t flinch. He had made peace with his past. What haunted him now wasn’t where he came from—it was what came next.

The following morning, as the sun beamed down over the massive school compound, John’s story had taken over everything.

Students gathered in small groups, heads buried in their phones. The headline read:

 "From Janitor to Billionaire: The Raymond Heir Among Us" 

Campus Eye News Station

Photos from the previous night, videos of Mr. Raymond’s speech, and clips of Mr. David’s slap had gone viral across all platforms—X (formerly T*****r), I*******m, F******k, and even news blogs outside the campus.

By the time John walked into his lecture hall, every single head turned.

The same students who mocked him… Now stood out of the way.

Some whispered. Some smiled nervously. A few offered fake handshakes. But John wasn’t interested. He moved through the rows like water flows through a crack—unbothered, unshaken.

Just then, the attention shifted.

The loud roar of an engine echoed across the parking lot. Students rushed to the window.

Jerry had arrived.

He stepped out of a sleek, shining 2025 Mercedes-Benz S-Class, metallic black with blood-red interior. His sunglasses reflected the sun, and his outfit was nothing short of runway-level. Beside him, Rita, now in a dazzling red designer gown, stepped out gracefully.

Whispers spread faster than wildfire:

“He’s back with full force.”

“He got a new Benz overnight?”

“What’s going on today?”

No one understood the sudden parade of luxury, but Jerry knew what he was doing. He was redirecting the attention. And it was working… at least for a moment.

Minutes later, another car pulled in.

Anabel stepped out—regal as ever—with Daniel right behind her.

Daniel, known as one of the youngest CEOs in the country and head of Danco Tech, had always walked with pride. But today, he looked ready for war.

They didn’t greet a single soul as they headed to their department. All eyes followed them, wondering what was unfolding.

Inside the classroom, John had just settled at his usual spot, sketching quietly in his notebook, headphones in, blocking out the noise.

He didn’t even notice Jerry and Daniel walking toward him.

With no warning, a punch landed on his jaw.

Then another.

John staggered. Blood trickled from his nose. Students gasped, but no one dared intervene.

Daniel slapped a glossy envelope on John’s desk.

"Student Car Show Invitation," he said coldly. "Hope you’ll have something to bring."

Rita, already recording with her phone, laughed mockingly.

"Smile for the camera, Billionaire Janitor."

The blows kept coming, until two campus security guards rushed in, grabbing Jerry and Daniel by the arms. They didn’t resist. They had made their point.

Before they left, Jerry looked at John coldly.

"That’s for Michael. And it's just the beginning."

They exited like kings, even as blood stained John's shirt. Rita ended her livestream and followed behind, laughing with no shame.

Across campus, Anna and Collins had just finished their classes when the livestream popped up on Anna’s feed. Her heart dropped as she watched.

"That’s John’s class," she said, eyes widening.

Without a second thought, she grabbed Collins’ arm, and they rushed out.

When they arrived, the classroom was quiet again. The incident had passed. Students had gone back to pretending nothing happened.

They found John sitting alone, nose still bleeding, calmly sketching something on paper.

“John! What happened?!” Anna cried, kneeling beside him.

He looked up and smiled faintly.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

Collins leaned over his shoulder.

“What’s that?”

It was a sketch of a car. Sleek. Bold. Aerodynamic. A sports car, unlike anything they’d seen before.

He held up the invitation.

“I’m not just attending the student car show,” he said, “I’m participating.”

They both blinked.

“Wait,” Collins said. “You’re serious?”

John nodded.

Anna chuckled. “You’re really going to bring a car?”

John looked at them and smiled, but said nothing.

They burst out laughing, not to mock him, but because they honestly didn’t believe him.

“Alright, Mr. Mysterious,” Collins teased. “If you say so.”

Anna stood up and stretched.

“Well, I’m hungry. John, come eat with us.”

John looked at the blood on his shirt and the sketch in his hand.

“Not now. I’ve got something to take care of. But bring me something back?”

“Sure,” Anna said.

As they walked off, Collins paused, pulled out his phone, and made a call.

“Mr. Shack,” he said. “It’s time.”

Within minutes, Mr. Shack connected him to the Raymond family’s garage manager—a man known simply as Carter.

John leaned on the doorframe and said three words:

“Build the prototype.”

Carter didn’t ask questions. He only responded, “Yes, young master.”

As John hung up, a shadow entered the doorway.

It was Rose, the lounge manager.