The first morning light slid across the hills of Enugu, painting the farmlands in a golden hue. Chinedu stood by the window of his small guesthouse, coffee in hand, eyes fixed on the rolling greenery below. These were no longer just landscapes — they were territories. Territories that would either strengthen his empire or choke it.
By the week's end, Imperial Farms would be more than just maize and cassava. The orchards were taking root — mangoes, oranges, pawpaws — carefully chosen for year-round harvests. The animal husbandry division had begun with poultry houses and a modest herd of goats, but Ireti's plans for expansion were aggressive. She had stayed behind at the main site to coordinate daily operations, leaving Chinedu free to move from state to state with Tunde, chasing opportunities like a hawk tracking prey.
Tunde had been everywhere this week — inspecting potential plots for retail outlets in Owerri, negotiating rental spaces in bustling market districts, and even finding land near major highways for larger shopping complexes. These outlets would not just sell farm produce; they would become brand outposts, a physical stamp of Imperial Farms' presence in every corner of the East.
But today's trip wasn't about land or livestock. It was about politics.
By late afternoon, Chinedu found himself in the Governor's office. The air inside was cool, perfumed faintly with polished wood and freshly brewed tea. The Governor, a man whose smile never fully reached his eyes, rose to greet him with a practiced warmth.
"Mr. Obasi," the Governor began, motioning toward a leather chair. "Your reputation precedes you. I hear Imperial Farms is feeding half of Enugu already."
Chinedu returned the smile, settling into his seat. "Not yet, Your Excellency. But I'm working on it."
They danced around small talk for several minutes — road repairs, youth employment, the challenges of keeping produce affordable. Then Chinedu placed his offer on the table, voice calm but deliberate:
"Your Excellency, I believe we can work together. I'm proposing Imperial Farms take on the state's public school feeding program. We'll supply fresh produce, livestock products, and processed goods. And here's my commitment — we'll fund half the cost ourselves for the first year. No other supplier can match that."
The Governor raised an eyebrow. "Half the bill? Why would you…?"
"Because this isn't just charity," Chinedu replied. "It's investment. The children get quality food. The public sees your administration delivering results. And Imperial Farms secures a distribution network straight into every local government area. Everybody wins."
The Governor studied him for a long moment, then leaned back, nodding slowly. "You're ambitious, Obasi. I like that. But ambition can be dangerous."
Chinedu allowed himself the smallest grin. "Only for those who stand still."
By the end of the meeting, the deal was struck — Imperial Farms would handle the program, paperwork to be signed within the week. It wasn't a massive payday, but it was steady revenue and deeper roots in the East's political soil.
As he left the Governor's compound, Chinedu paused by the gate, watching the setting sun dip behind the hills. He knew this was only the beginning. The farms were growing, the outlets were coming, and the state contract would give Imperial Farms credibility money couldn't buy.
But he also knew something else — scaling this fast required liquidity, and his reserves wouldn't hold forever. The school feeding deal was secure, but bigger plays were on the horizon. And for those, he would need capital.
The thought lingered like a shadow as he stepped into the waiting car. He didn't see it yet, but the next gamble was already forming in his mind.