The first time Josue Akintola stood on a stage, bathed in the warm glow of applause, he felt invincible. But it was also the moment he realized that success came with enemies—some lurking in plain sight, others hidden beneath smiles and blood ties.
Josue Akintola wasn't born into privilege. Far from it. Growing up in a modest household in Lagos, Nigeria, his childhood was defined by the hum of his mother's sewing machine and the late-night arguments between his parents over unpaid bills.
One night, as Josue lay awake on the thin mattress he shared with his younger brother, the muffled voices from the other room escalated into a full-blown shouting match.
"Samuel, how could you let this happen again?!" Adunni's voice pierced through the walls, sharp and trembling with frustration. "The landlord is threatening to throw us out! Do you think I can work miracles with these hands alone?"
"I'm doing everything I can, Adunni!" Samuel shot back, his deep voice laced with exhaustion and anger. "You think I don't feel the weight of this family on my shoulders every single day? I go to that godforsaken office, take orders from men half my age, and still come home to *this*!"
"This?" Adunni exclaimed, her tone rising even higher. "This is your family, Samuel! Your wife and children who depend on you! Or have you forgotten about us while chasing your pride at work?"
"Forgotten? FORGOTTEN?!" Samuel roared, slamming something heavy onto the table—likely one of Adunni's scissors or a stack of papers. The noise made Josue flinch under the covers. "I've sacrificed everything for this family! Everything! And yet, no matter what I do, it's never enough for you!"
"Well, maybe if you'd been smarter with the little we had, we wouldn't be sitting here drowning in debt!" she fired back, her voice cracking under the strain. "Do you know what it feels like to tell your son there's no money for school fees? To watch him skip meals because I can barely afford food?"
There was a brief silence, broken only by the sound of chairs scraping against the floor. Then Samuel spoke again, quieter but no less bitter: "Don't you dare put that guilt on me, Adunni. Don't you dare."
Young Josue pulled the blanket tighter around himself, trying to block out the sounds of their anguish. He hated these nights—the ones where love seemed buried beneath anger and desperation. But even then, something inside him stirred. A quiet resolve began to take root in his heart: *When I grow up,* he vowed silently, clutching the edge of the mattress, *I'll make sure we never live like this again.*
His father's weary sigh echoed through the house, followed by the creak of the bedroom door closing. For now, the argument was over—but its echoes lingered long after the lights went out.
---
Josue's father, Mr. Samuel Akintola, was a stern man who worked tirelessly as a junior manager in a logistics firm, while his mother, Mrs. Adunni Akintola, stitched dreams into fabric, running a small tailoring business out of their cramped living room. Despite their struggles, they instilled in Josue an unshakable work ethic and a belief that perseverance could conquer any obstacle. These lessons became the foundation upon which Josue built his empire—but they would also lay the groundwork for its undoing.
Josue's journey began far from the glittering spotlight of high-profile events. After graduating at the top of his class from the University of Lagos with a degree in Business Administration, he landed a job at a mid-sized marketing agency in Abuja. It wasn't glamorous, but it was a start. From the outside, Josue appeared calm and collected, but inside, he burned with ambition. He quickly distinguished himself through his ability to spot emerging trends and forge connections with influential figures. By the age of twenty-six, he had risen to become the youngest department head in the company's history—an achievement that filled him with pride yet left him restless.
*This isn't enough,* he thought one night as he stared at the city skyline from his tiny office window. *I can do more.*
In 2014, Josue took a leap of faith, leaving behind the security of his paycheck to launch *VisionLink Promotions*. The early days were grueling. Working out of a cramped apartment-turned-office, Josue relied heavily on Adeola Ogunbiyi, his childhood friend and confidant, whose sharp wit and loyalty kept them afloat during lean times. Together, they hustled, pitching ideas to skeptical clients and pouring every penny back into the business. Their big break came when they secured a contract to promote a major music festival in Accra, Ghana. The event was a resounding success, catapulting Josue into the limelight and earning him a reputation as a visionary in the entertainment industry.
By 2018, *VisionLink Promotions* had evolved into a powerhouse, managing everything from corporate galas to international concerts. Josue's meticulous planning and innovative strategies earned him accolades—and the nickname "The Architect of African Entertainment." Offices sprang up in Nairobi, Johannesburg, and Dakar, each one a testament to his relentless drive. Yet, despite his growing wealth and influence, Josue never forgot where he came from. Every month, without fail, he sent money home to support his family, ensuring his parents could retire comfortably and his siblings could pursue higher education.
But not everyone celebrated Josue's success. Beneath the surface of familial pride simmered resentment, jealousy, and greed. Chief Adebayo Akintola, Josue's uncle, watched his nephew's meteoric rise with thinly veiled disdain. A charismatic but opportunistic businessman, Adebayo had long harbored bitterness toward Josue's father, Samuel, whom he blamed for mismanaging the family's inheritance decades ago. Now, seeing Josue's achievements, Adebayo saw an opportunity to reclaim what he believed was rightfully theirs.
"Success has made him forget who he is," Adebayo muttered to his wife one evening, swirling a glass of whiskey. "He thinks he's better than us now."
Meanwhile, Josue's girlfriend, Amara Eze, found herself caught in the crossfire of these simmering tensions. Intelligent, fiercely independent, and deeply loyal, Amara had been Josue's rock since their university days. She admired his ambition but worried about the toll it took on him. Lately, she'd noticed subtle changes in his demeanor—a guardedness, a weariness—and it troubled her. When she confronted him about it, he brushed her off, saying, "It's just the pressure of running a business."
Amara wasn't so sure. Something darker seemed to be brewing, though she couldn't put her finger on it. Her instincts told her to tread carefully, especially around Josue's extended family. There was something unsettling about the way Adebayo looked at Josue during family gatherings, his smile too wide, his words too sweet.
As Josue expanded his empire, acquiring prime real estate properties across Africa to secure his family's future, he remained blissfully unaware of the storm gathering behind closed doors. To him, his generosity was a way of giving back—to his parents, his siblings, even distant relatives who occasionally reached out for help. But what he didn't realize was that his kindness had sown the seeds of betrayal. Unbeknownst to him, his relatives were plotting to seize control of his assets, exploiting his trust under the guise of familial duty.
One evening, as Josue reviewed contracts in his penthouse office overlooking Lagos, his phone buzzed. It was a text from Adeola: **"We need to talk. Urgent."**
Josue frowned. Adeola rarely used such urgent language unless something was seriously wrong. Before he could respond, another message popped up: **"Don't come alone."**
A cold knot formed in Josue's stomach. For the first time in years, he felt vulnerable.
What did Adeola know? And why did Josue suddenly feel like the empire he had worked so hard to build was slipping through his fingers?