Arriving at the tenth floor, he made his way forward. The glass doors to his office slid open with a soft whisper, and the atmosphere shifted—not just quiet, but commanding, unmistakably his. This was the nerve centre of Obinna Hospital, the personal domain of its founder and CEO, Dr. Obinna Chukwu.
The space was big but calm, mixing modern technology with a peaceful feel. At first, it looked like a fancy hotel office. But then the details told a different story. A sculpture shaped like a heart monitor and a golden-framed copy of the Hippocratic Oath stood out. Here, medicine was treated with deep respect, like something sacred.
A floor-to-ceiling smart glass wall offered panoramic views of Maitama's treetops and the hospital's lush butterfly garden below. On sunny days, it tinted softly to reduce glare without blocking the light. Today, daylight streamed in, spreading a warm sheen over the handcrafted walnut floors, distinct from the marble that covered the rest of the hospital. The walnut floor in Obinna's office was sleek and imported, echoing the elegance of this private space.
To one side, tucked behind a frosted sliding panel, was a minimalist in-office kitchenette. It featured a sleek coffee machine, a selection of teas arranged like décor, and a fridge stocked with fresh juices and sparkling water. The space was quiet and carefully designed, a small place to take a break in a busy life.
At the centre stood a state-of-the-art executive desk, locally crafted from ebony wood and trimmed with brushed titanium. Embedded with biometric security, a holographic patient management system, and a voice-activated assistant syncing seamlessly with hospital operations, it was the heart of the command centre. A crystal plaque engraved with Dr. Obinna Chukwu, MBBS, FRCS, CEO sat elegantly in one corner.
Behind the desk, a wide wall-mounted smart screen displayed real-time feeds from every surgical theatre. With a flick of his fingers, Obinna swiped through views, paediatrics, orthopaedics, neurosurgery, monitoring operations and initiating instant communication with surgical leads. This constant connection wasn't about control; it reflected his deep commitment to being present for every heartbeat within the hospital.
This system integrated throughout select zones, the private elevator, surgical command centre, departmental lounges, ensuring critical eyes were always watching. Innovation with purpose, built not for convenience alone but for excellence. Obinna didn't believe in delegation without visibility. The screens ensured he was always connected, always accountable, even from a distance.
At just 36 years old, Obinna Chukwu wasn't only Nigeria's best-known surgeon; he was also the richest man in the country. Many magazines offered him large sums to appear on their covers, drawn by his striking presence and perfectly crafted features, but he always declined politely. His rapid rise amazed even experts in the medical field. After studying at top medical schools abroad, Obinna developed a groundbreaking, less invasive heart surgery method that transformed paediatric cardiac care across West Africa. This technique saved thousands of children's lives and brought in major government contracts, international grants, and private investments.
He founded Obinna Hospital with a vision to combine world-class healthcare with cutting-edge technology, making advanced treatment accessible locally. Investors flocked to the project, eager to back a young genius whose name was already synonymous with hope and excellence. Within a decade, what began as a modest clinic had grown into a sprawling medical complex, acclaimed as the continent's premier facility.
Every life Obinna saved added to his growing legacy. His reputation reached far beyond hospital walls. Politicians, tycoons, and celebrities all came knocking, ready to pay whatever it took for his care. But for Obinna, it wasn't just about the money. He had shown the world what a Nigerian surgeon could become—not just successful, but exceptional, driven by skill, grit, and a deep loyalty to his roots, though his healing hands reached far beyond Nigerian borders.
To his right, a relaxation zone offered a soft espresso-brown leather couch resting on a muted Persian rug that softened the walnut floors, creating a warm, inviting space. An art wall showcased local artists, mostly patients who had healed here and left behind more than gratitude. Even the room's scent was deliberate: a gentle mix of bamboo, lemon eucalyptus, and a warm woodsy note, crafted exclusively by a perfumer for Obinna Hospital.
Just as Obinna reached for the sleek touchpad on his desk, the door hissed open gently.
'Sir, your 11:30 meeting with the procurement team has been rescheduled to 2 p.m. due to the surgery you have at that time,' said a clean, efficient voice.
It was Jamal Brooks, Obinna's personal assistant, a sharply dressed Black American man in his early thirties, tablet in one hand and Bluetooth earpiece clipped to his collar. With roots in Atlanta and a background in hospital administration from Johns Hopkins, Jamal brought both warmth and razor-sharp precision to the hospital's high-pressure halls.
Obinna nodded. 'Thank you, Jamal. Did the Minister's office confirm next week?'
'They did, sir. Two journalists will accompany him. One writes regularly for Health Frontiers Africa and has been flagged. I've sent a briefing to your inbox.'
Obinna smiled faintly. 'You always know which details to highlight.'
Jamal allowed himself a brief, proud grin. 'I try to stay five steps ahead. Makes both our lives easier.'
Obinna glanced at his tablet. 'And the ethics board documents?'
'On the way. Dr Dlamini offered to bring them personally.'
Obinna arched an eyebrow, amused. 'Of course he did.'
Just then, the door hissed again.
'Doc, hope I'm not interrupting,' came a smooth baritone laced with a South African accent.
Dr Themba Dlamini, Obinna Hospital's Chief Medical Officer and trusted advisor, stepped inside. Broad-shouldered, confident, and as precise with paperwork as with patient care, Themba's presence spoke before he did. His tailored navy-blue scrubs contrasted with the crisp file in his hand; the stethoscope around his neck swung lightly as he moved.
Jamal nodded respectfully and stepped aside. 'Dr Dlamini.'
'The usual heroics, Jamal?' Themba teased with a grin.
'Always behind the scenes, sir,' Jamal replied smoothly before exiting with a soft click.
Obinna looked up, already smiling. 'You never interrupt, Themba. You only arrive... just in time.'
Themba grinned, revealing deep dimples. 'Good to know. I brought the latest from the ethics board. Also, the AI diagnostics team finally finished integrating the neural model into the surgical planner. Thought you'd want to see the early data.' He placed the file on Obinna's desk with easy grace, leaving his hand lightly resting on it for a moment. 'Also, the Minister's people confirmed next week's visit. One of the journalists asked if you'd grant a brief interview.'
Obinna raised an eyebrow. 'Brief, huh?'
Themba chuckled. 'I told them you speak in surgical precision... five-minute interviews or nothing at all.'
Obinna gave a low laugh and leaned back in his chair. 'I see you've adopted our press policy quite well.'
'At this rate, I might as well apply for a broadcasting licence,' Themba said with a smirk, finally removing his hand from the file. 'With all the reports I've done here and the paperwork back home in South Africa, I've basically become a full-time spokesperson.'
Obinna laughed at his words, then nodded towards the file Themba had placed on his desk. 'Any issues with the haematology audit?'
'All clear. Dr Yusuf was thorough, but I triple-checked. You know me. I don't like surprises.'
'Neither do I,' Obinna murmured, flipping open the folder. 'Thanks, Themba.'
Themba's tone softened. 'Need anything else, boss?'
Obinna shook his head. 'For now, no.'
Themba grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, took a giant bite, and said, 'I guess I'll have to go. A patient's waiting.'
With that, he turned and exited, the door whispering shut behind him like a gentle breath.
Obinna sat back, allowing silence to settle in the room. Outside his office, Obinna Hospital was full of activity. He looked at the photo frame on his desk. It was a picture of Erimma smiling in her school uniform, with her two front teeth missing.
I'll make you happy, always, my darling daughter, Obinna thought with a soft smile as he turned back to the file before him.
***