It’s a tale as old as celebrity itself: a young woman, dazzling and ambitious, locks eyes with the privileged—but often naive—son of a global dynasty. And before you can say “lavish wedding in Palm Beach,” the heir is head over heels, his independence slowly dissolving into oblivion.

Nicola Peltz and Brooklyn Beckham. Meghan Markle and Prince Harry. Two strikingly similar stories, separated by royal bloodlines and a few years, but united by a shared pattern: powerful women rewriting the scripts of less forceful men from famous families.

Let’s begin with Nicola Peltz, the billionaire heiress and aspiring actress who ensnared Brooklyn Beckham, the eldest son of David and Victoria. Once just a model dabbling in photography and cooking, Brooklyn quickly became the accessory in his own relationship. Today, he’s best known for being “Nicola’s husband.” His career? Undefined. His identity? Absorbed.

And it’s not hard to draw the Meghan Markle parallel.

When Meghan met Prince Harry, he was the lovable, cheeky royal—the soldier, the bachelor, the spare. Within a few years, the transformation was complete: estranged from family, adrift in Montecito, podcasting about his trauma and watching his royal identity evaporate in California sun.

What Peltz and Markle appear to share is a masterful command of influence. They don’t just marry into powerful families—they redefine them. Suddenly, the spotlight shifts. The husbands begin to orbit the wives. The royal becomes the plus-one. The Beckham heir becomes Mr. Peltz.

Both women are beautiful, fashionable, and publicly claim to be misunderstood. Both had complicated relationships with their in-laws. Meghan famously split the royal family in two; Nicola reportedly clashed with Victoria Beckham over who would design her wedding dress—a petty feud that allegedly cast a shadow over the entire Peltz-Beckham wedding.

And the men? They follow, loyally, blindly, perhaps even gratefully. Both Brooklyn and Harry appear to have found a purpose in being protectors of their wives—champions of their narratives. They’ve become permanent residents in their partners’ worlds, not architects of their own.

There’s a tragedy in that.

Because whether you admire or resent Markle and Peltz, you must ask: what happens to the man who surrenders his identity to a relationship? Prince Harry was once beloved around the world. Today, many see him as a moaning ex-royal who traded duty for celebrity. Brooklyn Beckham, once tipped to follow his father into football or at least build a brand of his own, now seems permanently lost in his wife’s shadow.

Of course, there’s love in both stories. Let’s not be completely cynical. But love doesn’t require the total surrender of self. And in both cases, that’s what we’ve seen.

Nicola and Meghan have certainly mastered the playbook: marry rich, marry famous, become the main character. It’s a tale of reinvention—but only for one half of the couple.

So what awaits Brooklyn and Harry? A future of endless Instagram posts, curated interviews, and documentary series about the pain of being famous. They will continue to be the support act in their own lives unless they find a way to reclaim their identities—not as husbands, but as individuals.

Until then, they remain reminders of a modern celebrity truth: sometimes, when you marry into power, you don’t rise—you disappear.

And somewhere in Montecito and Miami, two famous sons might be realizing just that.