The Rise of John Raymond

The Rise of the Forgotten One

John lay still on his bed, eyes wide open, the soft whirr of the ceiling fan above him doing nothing to calm the storm in his mind. The night before felt like a dream—too surreal to be true. The insults, the humiliation, the meal, Mr David’s warning, and the black card. That black card.

He reached into his pocket, pulled it out, and stared at it.

Solid. Real. Heavy with power.

His other hand reached for his phone, the screen lighting up as he opened his banking app. His balance still sat there, unshaken, glaring at him in raw digits.

$30,000,000.00

He blinked. A tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another. Not tears of pain, not of sadness. These were tears of joy—the kind he hadn’t felt in years, maybe his whole life.

He remembered the days he cleaned floors with bleeding fingers. The nights he cried himself to sleep on an empty stomach. The times he was spat on, slapped, mocked… like he was nothing. But now—now everything had changed.

The door creaked open. Collins stepped in, a soft grin on his face. John quickly wiped his tears, shoved the black card beneath his blanket, and turned off his phone, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Collins flopped onto the bed next to him, laughing softly. “Bro, what was that yesterday? You, eating like you owned the world while the rest of us were sweating bullets?”

John chuckled nervously. “Man, I figured if we were going to die, I might as well die on a full stomach.”

Collins burst into laughter, hitting his leg playfully. “You’re mad, John. You really are.”

John smiled but quickly changed the subject. “For real though, can you imagine what would’ve happened if that mystery guy hadn’t paid the bill?”

They both laughed at the thought of Mr David lining them up and shaving their heads or making them mop the entire restaurant on their knees. Slowly, their laughter faded, and sleep crept in. They drifted off with smiles on their faces, the darkness of the night washing over them gently.

The next morning, John was shaken from sleep by shouting.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!” Collins and James screamed in unison as they barged into the room.

John sat up, confused. “Wait, what?”

“It’s your birthday, you dummy!” Collins laughed, grabbing his arms and pulling him up from the bed.

John’s mouth hung open. He had completely forgotten. Everything that had been happening had pushed his birthday far from his mind.

James handed him a small box. “Open it.”

Inside was a shiny wristwatch and a pack of colourful T-shirts. John looked at them like they were gold bars. It was the first time in his life that someone had given him a birthday gift.

Collins grinned and tossed a paper bag at him. “Check that out.”

Inside were brand-new sneakers and a pair of stylish trousers.

John was speechless. “You guys…”

“Don’t get emotional now,” James teased. “You still owe us a party!”

Before John could even react further, the door knocked again.

Collins jumped up. “Oh! That’s the next surprise.”

He walked over, opened the door, and Anna stepped in, holding a cake.

John stood still, stunned.

Anna smiled, her long curls bouncing slightly as she walked in. “Happy birthday, John.”

Collins came behind John and gently covered his eyes as Anna placed the cake down.

John opened his eyes, still in disbelief.

“You guys didn’t have to…”

“We wanted to,” Anna interrupted.

The celebration was simple, but for John, it was the most special moment of his life. Friends. Smiles. Genuine laughter.

But as soon as the cake was cut and eaten, Anna stood up.

“I have to go prepare for the SFR event,” she said with a warm smile. “See you there?”

John nodded. “Definitely.”

The Student Fund Raiser (SFR) event was one of the most anticipated events on campus. Rich students showed off their wealth. It was where status was defined. Where the bold came out to flex their financial muscles. But John… had plans of his own.

He had decided that today, he was going to make a statement. One that no one would ever forget.

He wasn’t just going to donate—he was going to shatter records.

After dressing up in his new clothes from Collins and James, the three friends walked together toward the event hall. John looked fresher than ever before. The plain-looking cleaner was now standing tall with style and quiet confidence.

As they approached the venue, murmurs spread.

“Is that… John?”

“No way, he looks different.”

“Since when does he wear new clothes?”

A few students laughed as he passed, still unwilling to accept any version of him that wasn’t poor and pitiful.

Just then, Jerry and his clique walked in behind them, and the room exploded with cheers.

“Jerryyyyyy!”

“My guy!”

Flashing watches, silver cards, designer belts, the whole package.

Moments later, the doors opened again.

Noel.

As soon as he entered, the crowd lost it.

“Noel’s here?!”

“He never shows up!”

“Something big’s about to go down.”

Everyone knew Noel and Jerry were the two wealthiest boys on campus. If both of them were at the event, then the battle for the top donor position was about to be war.

Even the DJ picked up on the vibe, switching the track to something intense and thrilling. Students danced and vibed, but the real tension was around who would donate the most.

John and his friends kept it calm, sitting quietly at their table. The announcements began shortly afterward, and the grouping process was set in motion.

Each group would enter the “secret room” one by one and make their donations privately—no one would know who donated what until the final reveal.

As John stood to join the line, the room erupted in laughter again.

“Is he serious?”

“John? In the donation line? With what money?”

“He must think this is a joke!”

But Jerry wasn’t laughing. His eyes narrowed.

He pulled out his phone and texted one of the event principals.

“Make sure John and Anna are placed in the same group.”

He smirked.

After all the groupings were announced, the tension in the hall dropped. It was revealed that Jerry and Noel had ended up in the same group.

Everyone buzzed with excitement.

“Perfect!”

“This group’s going to break the record!”

“Noel and Jerry together? No one else stands a chance.”

Group after group entered the secret room. Quiet, formal, suspenseful. Each student made their contribution, and the room waited patiently.

Only two groups remained now.

Anna’s group—where John had been quietly placed—and the group with Noel and Jerry.

The tension shifted subtly.

Anna stood. She looked graceful, but firm. Her father, one of the school’s largest contributors, had also arrived earlier, seated at the back of the room with dark shades and a strict expression.

Whispers rippled through the hall as people noticed him.

“That’s Mr. Thompson…”

“Anna’s dad…”

“He doesn’t play around.”

Supporters of Jerry and Noel’s group started to worry. If Anna was involved, anything could happen.