The Rise of John Raymond

The Revelation

The grand hall, once filled with excitement, now fell into a thick, uneasy silence as the back doors swung open.

Mr. Jack's voice boomed through the mic:

"Everyone, stand in honor of a great personality entering this event."

All students rose instantly, hearts pounding, eyes wide, phones slowly raised to capture the moment. Nobody could guess who it was—but everyone knew this wasn’t just another parent or sponsor.

As footsteps echoed in the hallway, the shadows at the entrance split, revealing two men, each more intimidating than the last.

The first man, dressed in a custom black suit, gold-framed glasses, and a stoic expression, was Mr. Raymond—a name that needed no introduction. He was the richest man in the country, the patriarch of the feared and powerful Raymond Empire, whose influence stretched across industries and governments alike.

Beside him was Mr. David, the infamous Mafia leader—the same one who had struck fear into Jerry and the others the night before. He was still wearing the dark suit from the restaurant, his presence heavy, almost choking the air around him.

Gasps swept across the room.

A few students immediately dropped to their seats in fear, while others froze, clutching their shirts or whispering to one another in disbelief. Some, especially the newer students, were stunned just to see these legends in real life—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Others, however, grew pale with panic.

And still, in the far corner of the hall, some students continued gripping John’s shirt tightly.

Mr. Jack stepped forward once more and spoke into the mic.

"Would Jerry Martins and Noel Johnson please come forward to the stage? As our second top donors of the evening, it is an honor for you to meet the guest of the night."

Cheers erupted again as Jerry and Noel strutted confidently toward the stage, adjusting their designer clothes, walking with pride. They wore wide grins as they reached the steps.

As they reached the top, they extended their hands to shake with Mr. Raymond, who responded with a polite nod. Their classmates clapped even louder, some even recording the moment.

Jerry looked down into the crowd, basking in the glory. For him, this moment meant status. Validation. It meant he belonged among the elite. He cast a smug glance at John.

But even as the celebration continued, one student still had a tight hold on John's shirt—Michael, Jerry’s close friend.

From the stage, Mr. David caught sight of it.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Why is that student dragging him?" he asked in a low voice.

The mic was still close enough for most students in the front to hear.

Before Michael could speak, Jerry jumped in.

"Sir, he stole money," Jerry said, pointing toward John. "And this is a school with zero tolerance for theft. We’re trying to maintain discipline."

Mr. David looked down at Jerry, then back at John.

"Let him go," he ordered flatly.

Michael reluctantly loosened his grip but didn’t hide his attitude. He scoffed and adjusted his shirt, muttering under his breath.

Mr. David's expression hardened.

"You. Come up here," he said, pointing at Michael.

Michael blinked in surprise.

"Me?" he asked, then chuckled, thinking he was about to be recognized as some sort of witness or helper.

He straightened his collar and climbed the steps with a swagger, unaware of what awaited him.

As he reached the stage, the crowd still clapping for Jerry and Noel, a sharp slap exploded across his face.

The hall froze.

The echo of the slap reverberated through the air like a gunshot. Michael stumbled backward, holding his cheek, eyes wide in disbelief.

"What—why—"

Before he could say another word, another slap landed, then a punch.

The room fell into complete, choking silence. No laughter. No whispers. Just the sound of Michael being beaten by Mr. David on stage, in front of the entire student body.

"You lay hands on my young master?" Mr. David shouted, fury rising in every word. "You dare drag him in front of me?!"

Students sat as still as statues.

Noel’s hands trembled. Jerry’s eyes darted in every direction, searching for a way out of the situation.

Just as Mr. David was about to strike again, Mr. Raymond raised his hand.

"Enough."

Mr. David stepped back, panting, fists still clenched.

Mr. Raymond walked slowly to the center of the stage. His footsteps were deliberate. Powerful.

As he moved closer to where John sat, John looked down and tried to shield his face, but it was too late.

Mr. Raymond had already seen him.

"You," he said firmly. "Raise your head."

The room was so quiet, even a pin drop would have sounded like thunder.

John raised his head slowly, meeting Mr. Raymond’s eyes.

The air grew thick.

Mr. Raymond gave a faint smile and turned to face the audience.

"This boy," he said, pointing at John, "did not steal the money. I gave him the money he is spending."

Gasps broke out like fireworks in the hall.

"He is not just a student. He is part of the Raymond family. And any hand raised against him is a hand raised against me."

Every student, every staff member, every individual in that hall sat in stunned silence.

"Security," Mr. Raymond continued, turning to his men, "take Michael away. And make sure he never sees the light of day again."

The Mafia security team moved swiftly, grabbing Michael by both arms as he screamed and struggled.

“No! Please! I didn’t know! I swear I didn’t—”

His voice faded as they dragged him out of the hall.

Mr. Raymond didn’t look back. His expression was stone.

He turned again to John.

"Use what you’ve been given wisely," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You are the heir to a legacy. Never bow to anyone who once looked down on you."

And with that, he walked off the stage, followed by Mr. David and their security.

No music. No applause. Just stunned faces.

As the doors closed behind them, whispers broke out like wildfire.

"Did you hear that?"

"John? Raymond family?"

"No wonder he had a black card!"

"Is this real life?"

Even Jerry, Noel, Rita, and George looked like statues, unable to form words. Their faces were drained of color. Their confidence shattered.

Collins and James turned to look at John with awe, speechless.

Anna didn’t say a word.

She stared at John, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. She had spent time with him. Supported him. But even she never imagined this.

John stood up slowly, a small smile curving on his lips.

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t explain himself.

He simply buttoned his jacket, nodded at his friends, and walked out of the hall.

And as the doors closed behind him…

No one dared follow.