For the first time since the whispers began, silence greeted Chinedu's name. The critics had lost their voice. The viral clips of his sharp rebuttal, backed by the thunder of Imperial Music and the massive machinery of Imperial Films, turned the tide in his favor. Ordinary Nigerians who once shrugged at his business ventures now claimed him proudly as one of their own—proof that the country could produce a visionary capable of standing toe-to-toe with the world.
He knew better than to waste the moment.
Within hours of the applause, Chinedu was meeting his Imperial Communications team. The American deal, which some thought would collapse under scrutiny, was now practically bulletproof. Politicians who had been on the fence quickly fell in line, desperate not to be seen as obstacles to progress. The approvals that should have taken months were signed in weeks. Licenses, orbital permissions, even banking guarantees—barriers melted before his momentum.
By the end of the quarter, Imperial Communications had secured its first satellite contract. Engineers worked day and night in collaboration with American partners. The dream was clear: Nigeria's skies would no longer depend entirely on foreign signals. A domestic player had arrived.
Meanwhile, Lagos was alive with Imperial Entertainment.
Imperial Music's artists booked back-to-back tours across Africa and Europe, and promoters in the U.S. scrambled to sign them for festivals. Imperial Films announced that its first production would premiere not only in Lagos, but in London and New York, making it Africa's most ambitious film debut.
Imperial Cinemas, still in blueprint, attracted interest from investors who had previously ignored Nigerian entertainment. "We want to be part of this," they admitted. "Obasi's empire isn't just farming and oil anymore—he's changing culture."
The profits rolled in. Ticket presales, streaming revenues, merchandising, sponsorships—it was a flood. For the first time, Imperial Entertainment matched the earnings of Imperial Farms in a single month.
Chinedu quietly moved the numbers himself, shifting funds to reinforce Imperial Communications. Every naira earned from the spotlight went back into the infrastructure—servers, fiber, ground stations, engineers. Entertainment gave him visibility. Communications would give him control.
In Enugu, the governor called to congratulate him. In Abuja, ministers spoke his name with newfound caution. Even in Washington, U.S. officials whispered: "He's a man who knows how to use momentum."
And Chinedu, sitting in his Lagos mansion one late night, reflected on it all. The victories were sweet, the applause thunderous, the money good. But none of this was an ending.
These were only the foundations—the base upon which he would build the true reach of Imperial Holdings. A Nigerian empire, yes, but one with global ambition.
He smiled faintly, signing another approval sheet.
Tomorrow, the real work would begin.