The Death of Billionaire Romance

Romance's top subgenre is on its deathbed...and why that might be a good thing.

I woke up with a start this morning, as I have most mornings since November 5th. What a time to have an anxiety disorder, amirite?

Today, however, my anxiety felt more productive rather than overwhelming—if anxiety could ever be such a thing.

I woke up realizing that I cannot write billionaire romance anymore. Not ethically.

Not in the way The Market™ dictates.

So where does that leave me: A baby author who has four books out, all of them about sexy men with more money than sense?

I’m not totally clear, but what I do know, I know for sure.

It’s time to take a hard look at the subgenre.

I love billionaire romance. As my bestie (in my head) Theodora Taylor points out in her work 7 Figure Fiction, there’s a reason why the Cinderella Universal Fantasy™ works so well. If you’re in Struggs City with a mean-ass step-mama and shoe-faced step sisters that make you sleep in an ashy attic, what’s sexier than a super-rich man—maybe even the richest of men—sweeping in to rescue you with the promise of never living in squalor again (and with a gift Birkin in hand)?

It’s the thing fantasies are made of, to be sure.

And yet.

If art imitates life, the question around billionaire romance is the proverbial dude in the corner with the camera and the hard-on.

Impossible to ignore for the actors in the shot.

Are billionaires irredeemable?

Well, hell. If that isn’t a philosophical question.

In general, I don’t think any human is fully irredeemable. As long as there is breath in one’s body, there’s the chance to do and be better. Still, there are consequences for actions, and the reality is billionaires do much more harm than good nearly universally—especially in a society where people work full-time jobs at minimum wage and cannot afford to live on their own in any state in America.

How much is the difference between a million and a billion? Well, this site explains it well.

Imagine someone gave you a million dollars and told you to spend $1,000 every day and come back when you ran out of money. You would return, with no money left, in three years. If someone then gave you a billion dollars and you spent $1,000 each day, you would be spending for about 2,740 years before you went broke.

Or, if you’re a visual learner, here’s a great TikTok from FarmingWhileBeige.

@sylvanaquafarmsReplying to @Bright Body oh dude people are closer to being creatures from fantasy novels and comic books than they are to being billionaires 😂 #sylvanaquafarms #inequality #billionaires #wealth #capitalism

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So yeah. I’ve yet to find an example of an ethical billionaire. If you have an example, I’m so eager to hear about it.

But here’s the rub.

Billionaire romance, as it’s currently conceived, is unsustainable in the face of what’s happening in the world. We can no longer ignore the realities of how this wealth is accumulated, nor should we pretend that the existence of billionaires—in reality or fiction—perpetuates harm.

The world is waking up, and what we see is chilling: a few individuals accumulating unfathomable wealth while the rest of us scramble to make ends meet.

The real-life billionaires who are shaping the future—through techno-feudalism, the rise of reactionary politics like NRx, and the teachings of figures like Curtis Yarvin—are not just disconnected from the average person, but are actively dismantling the very fabric of society.

This isn’t a game of Monopoly; it’s real people suffering as a result of unchecked greed.

So, what do we do about it? Do we keep creating these fantasy worlds where billionaires are swooning over our heroines, where their wealth and power are the ultimate symbols of desirability? Do we look at the truth that stares us in the face and start telling stories that reflect the world we actually live in?

Or do we go another route altogether?

Billionaire romance, as it stands is built on a fantasy that has real-world consequences. It tells readers that being wealthy beyond reason is somehow a sign of superiority, that the obsession with power and excess is a goal worth aspiring to.

But that same rhetoric, in real life, is the foundation for authoritarian regimes, eugenicist ideals, and unchecked nationalism.

So why is it okay for us to support this in fiction?

The Musks, Zuckerbergs, and Bezoses of the world didn’t just get rich by being smart or innovative; they profited by exploiting labor, by taking advantage of systems designed to keep the poor poor, and by hoarding wealth that could help lift entire populations out of poverty.¹

The reality is that we cannot—should not—continue to romanticize this system.

This is a particularly hard pill to swallow for me. My Shadowplay Trilogy is a billionaire romance—but it’s also a social critique of our government and the systems that operate in the shadows, a platform for mental health advocacy, and a damn good love story.

But I can’t escape the fact that my fictional man, Hunter Brigham, is a billionaire. He’s a powerful man who is adjacent to even more power, and while I am critical of this power in my romance novel, it doesn’t detract from the fact that the man owns a private 747 and more money that can be spent in several lifetimes.

Perhaps it’s time to divest from these narratives entirely. Instead of glorifying billionaires and their ill-gotten gains, let’s build universes that reflect the real struggles people face. Let’s create heroes who aren’t just rich in money, but rich in character. Let’s show the kind of wealth that isn’t built on exploitation, but on collaboration, on innovation that lifts up others, on ethical business practices that contribute to the common good.

If billionaire romance is to survive, it has to evolve.

It has to reckon with the systems that make such wealth possible and address the ethical ramifications. We need stories that challenge the status quo, not reinforce it. Because, as it stands, billionaire romance is a fantasy that’s starting to feel dangerously out of touch.

And perhaps that’s the point—perhaps it’s time to let it go. To stop perpetuating the myth that the wealth of a few can ever be truly sexy or ethical, and start building new fantasies where real change, real growth, and real love can flourish without the stain of greed.

The choice is ours. The question is, what kind of stories do we want to tell?

1. Just a reminder that Elon Musk isn’t an inventor. He’s an investor.