If there's one thing that really makes a millionaire mopey, it's having to hand the unwashed masses any access to his beach-front property. It's against the law for anyone to own the beach in some countries, but that would be too socialist for most Americans. So Malibu millionaires, Bimini billionaires, or the oligarchic owners of any other piece of prime beach-front property can do everything within their potentially petrifying power to keep the peasants, peons and hoi palloi from so much as hopping across their little pieces of paradise.
But even the millionaires are aren't always victorious against the vigilance of a vengeful villein, and when some cabal of concerned citizens conspires to keep the aristocrats and fat cats tied up in court long enough, they sometimes succeed in winning some small species of concession. This might be merely as much as a miniscule little access path, meandering across the otherwise perfectly protected perimeter of the mopey millionaire's palatial estate. It's extremely unlikely to be more than that. If you were to wander too widely from the roundly resented right-of-way to badger the billionaire and his bikini-clad companions at his breakfast barbecue, chances are he'd set the hounds on you.
Why? Well, it's really rather reasonable. Millionaires make so much money that melancholy, moodiness and moping are mostly quite unfamiliar to them. Where you and I might merely mope, a melancholy millionaire will most likely lapse into literal lunacy and malevolent madness, lashing out at the cruelty of communistic commoners in a dreadful display of destructive despair.