LAZY GIRL WANTED A BILLIONAIRE MAN BUT WASNT READY FOR THIS
But if I marry this old billionaire man, he is already in his 80s. If I marry him now, it’s just a matter of a few years before he dies and I will inherit everything once he’s gone, Lorato said to herself as she sipped her smoothie lounging on the couch.
Lorato always believed she was destined for a life of luxury. But not through hard work or skill. No, not her. She believed the key to wealth was a rich man—a man who would carry her like an egg, pay her bills, dress her in designer labels, and fly her to exotic places. The idea of learning a trade or acquiring a skill made her cringe. Why should I stress myself? She would often say, “There are men who have been working for decades just so I can enjoy. That’s their job.”
In their small but busy flat in Johannesburg, Lorato’s younger sister, Nali, tried again and again to get her to see reason. Nadi, two years younger but far more responsible, was learning hairdressing and worked part-time at a salon. She cleaned the house, bought groceries with her small earnings, and often cooked their meals. Lorato never lifted a finger.
Nedi said one evening, stirring a pot of pap, “Depending on men like this will ruin you.”
Lorato rolled her eyes dramatically, lying across the couch with her phone in hand scrolling through Instagram. “Why are you always so dramatic? Now, lady look at this,” she said, turning her phone around to show a picture of a girl she followed.
The girl wore a Gucci dress and posed in front of a luxury car. “Do you think she’s suffering? No. Men are meant to take care of women.”
Nedi sighed. “You don’t know her story, Lorato. Maybe she works. Maybe she has a business.”
“Hi, please,” Lorato scoffed. “Stop preaching. You sound like mama. Just say you’re jealous.”
Nedi said nothing more. She had tried too many times.
Lorato’s best friend, Thandi, was just like her, only worse. If Lorato was looking for encouragement, Thandi always had it ready.
“Girl, I met a guy last night. He drives a Range Rover. I swear,” Thandi said, chewing gum loudly as they walked through Santon City Mall. “He took me to a lounge in Rosebank. I told him I have a beautiful friend who needs spoiling, too.”
Lorato’s eyes lit up. “You’re the best, Thandi. Who says we need to suffer?”
The two laughed and strutted into a boutique, trying on expensive clothes they couldn’t afford. They didn’t buy anything, but they took photos for social media. Later that week, they went clubbing—their usual Friday ritual. Hair laid, nails done, short dresses, and loud perfume. They weren’t there to dance. They were there to hunt.
At the VIP lounge of the club, they caught the attention of a group of older men. These men weren’t the usual young, flashy types. They were mature, reserved, and clearly wealthy. Their graying hair and expensive watches spoke volumes. One of them, tall, dark, and clearly in his 80s, kept glancing at their table.
Eventually, he stood up and walked over with a calm but confident air. “Good evening, ladies,” he said, his voice deep but gentle. “May I join you?”
Thandi gave him a cold glance and looked away. Lorato smiled politely, but nudged Thandi under the table. “Hi,” Lorato said sweetly, batting her lashes. “Of course, have a seat.”
The man sat down slowly, placing his glass of whiskey on the table. “I couldn’t help but notice you two, beautiful ladies. My name is Mr. Duma.”
Thandi was uninterested, checking her phone and texting furiously. Lorato leaned closer to the man, still smiling. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Duma. I’m Lorato and this is my best friend, Thandi.”
Mr. Duma nodded respectfully. “Lovely names. You girls remind me of my daughters.”
Thandi rolled her eyes slightly. Lorato saw it and kicked her gently under the table. “Thandi is just shy,” Lorato said quickly. “She’s more of a mystery, you know.”
Mr. Duma chuckled. “Nothing wrong with being reserved.”
After a few minutes, the man leaned slightly toward Thandi. “Would you mind if I got your number? I’d love to take you out to dinner.”
Thandi nearly choked on her drink. “Um, I… I don’t think so, sir. I mean, you’re older, Thandi.”
Lorato hissed under her breath, trying not to look annoyed. Mr. Duma smiled gently and stood up. “No worries, young lady. It was worth asking. Have a great evening.”
As he walked away, Lorato grabbed Thandi’s arm. “Are you mad? That’s our jackpot.”
Thandi wrinkled her nose. “Lorato, the man is old. He could be your grandfather.”
“And that’s exactly the point,” Lorato whispered fiercely. “Do you think he’s going to be dragging you around? He just wants company. And he’s rich. Look at his shoes. Those were Italian leather.”
Thandi hesitated. But he’s old.
“Old and rich. And do you know what happens with old rich men? They write you into their will,” Lorato said wide-eyed. “He’s going to give you money, cars, maybe even a house. You can still date whoever you want on the side.”
Thandi giggled. “You’re insane.”
“No, I’m smart,” Lorato replied, already typing something on her phone. “I’m giving him your number.”
“What? Lorato…”
“Relax. I’ll smooth it over. You’ll thank me when you’re driving a Porsche.”
Thandi stared at her best friend, unsure whether to be angry or amused. “You’re actually serious?”
“I am. We don’t get offers like this every day. Stop thinking with your emotions. Think with your bank account.”
Lorato stood up confidently, smoothing her tight dress and walking toward Mr. Duma’s table. A few minutes later, she returned with a triumphant grin. “He’s expecting your call tomorrow,” she whispered.
Thandi covered her face with her hands.
“Yo. We’ve been waiting for our big fish, and we just caught a shark,” Lorato said to herself.
