How Does The Lions Of Fifth Avenue End?

The Last Wolfe is a dark mafia romance about two enemies who fall in love without knowing they are enemies. Raven Wolfe is the last survivor of her family. Eight years ago, the Vlad family murdered her parents, her brothers, her uncles, her cousins. She survived because she was not home that night. Now she hunts the men who destroyed her life. She has no names. No faces. She has been chasing shadows for eight years. Fenris Vlad is the son of Dante Vlad, the man who ordered the massacre. He has spent years searching for the last heir of the Wolfe family. He does not know what she looks like. He only knows she exists. They meet by chance at a charity gala. She is there because her boss told her to network. He is there because his father ordered him to attend. Their eyes meet across the room. Something sparks between them. He pursues her. She lets him. Partly for the mission. Partly because she cannot help herself. She learns about his past slowly. His mother's death. His father's cruelty. The guilt he carries. He learns about her even slower. She has been lying for eight years. She is careful. But the truth has a way of slipping out. When Raven discovers that Fenris was present during her family's massacre, her world shatters. She walks away. He hunts for her. He finds her. The truth comes out. Dante Vlad orders her death. Fenris chooses her over his father. He kills Dante to save her. The story ends with Fenris walking away from the empire. They leave the city together. They start a new life. No contracts. No threats. Just love. The Last Wolfe is approximately 105,000 words. Dark romance. Mafia. Enemies to lovers. Adult content.

My husband is poor. We've already been married for three years, but I've covered all our expenses during that time. Even when I'm interested in a cheap bag when we go shopping, he says it's too expensive. He tells me not to buy it. Later, I discover that he gives his first love a four-million-dollar diamond necklace for her birthday. It turns out he's not broke and heavily in debt—he's the heir to an affluent family with a net worth of billions of dollars.

The three heirs of the Whitman family all claimed to love me. But their way of loving me was to keep me hidden. Alexander said New York's financial reporters were too aggressive and that making our relationship public would only put me in the middle of a media frenzy. Nicholas said people in the investment world were vicious gossips and he was afraid I'd become a target, so he never brought me to his partners' gatherings, private clubs, or holiday receptions. Leon said his music career wasn't established yet. Once he had a stage that was truly his own, he would acknowledge me in front of the whole world. I waited four years. This changed when Lillian Grant walked into their lives. Alexander walked her down the red carpet at the Manhattan Art Foundation gala. The next day, every entertainment outlet ran the same headline: "Eldest Whitman Heir Appears to Go Public with New Romance." Nicholas brought her to an investor reception, where his partners called her "the future Mrs. Whitman" right to my face. Leon was the most direct. He played a song at a twenty-thousand-person concert and told the livestream camera, "For the most important person in my life." The jumbotron cut to Lillian's seat. The day after the livestream. Alexander set a folder on the coffee table. "You're twenty-five now. We think it's time you had a life of your own." Nicholas continued, "This man comes from an ordinary background, but he has a stable job. He's been divorced once and has no children. " Leon slid the photo in front of me, smiling with the same easy warmth as always. "We've already met him for you. He's more than a good match." I didn't argue. I just picked up my phone and called the Whitman family attorney. What they didn't know was that the family trust Grandfather had established before his death made one thing perfectly clear. Whoever I chose would receive that twenty-seven percent block of voting shares and become the true power behind the Whitman family.

On the day my father died, his seven most trusted men all met violent deaths within the same twenty-four hours. Hugh Castillo sacrificed his legs to butcher the gang and put me in power. “Taz, don’t be scared. Those monsters are gone. You’re finally free.” In the years he lay paralyzed, I tried over a thousand experimental drugs and prayed at every church across the country. I hunted down every possible remedy, praying for just one that would bring him back to his feet. When Hugh learned of this, he swallowed a bottle of pills one night to end his life. After he was revived, he smiled and wiped the tears from my face. “Taz, I don’t want to be a dead weight. You deserve a better life than this.” That night, we held each other and wept. We swore that from then on, no matter what, we would never leave each other behind. But seven years later, a sweet-looking girl showed up at my door with a thousand photos I was never meant to see. “Every month, while you were praying to God in churches, Huey was busy trying out new positions with me. “Ms. Sheargold, don’t you know that used goods like you kill a man’s desire? It was no wonder he’d rather play the cripple than touch you.” I looked through every single photo, then put them up for auction underground.

I had broken up with Lorenzo five times, and Gianna had always been the reason. Lorenzo had used our wedding fund to buy Gianna a penthouse in Tribeca. Each time I made up my mind to leave him, he would break down in tears and beg for another chance, promising that it would never happen again. Staring into his love-struck eyes, I always gave him another chance. Today was the day I would pick out my wedding dress and set our wedding date. I waited in the bridal shop from noon until dark, but Lorenzo was nowhere to be found. At ten that night, his friend, Marco, called me. “Naomi, Lorenzo’s in the emergency room. Come quickly–” I cut him off. “Is it because of Gianna again?” Marco stammered an explanation, but exhaustion washed over me. I closed my eyes before uttering in a flat tone, “I won’t be there. Tell him that it’s over between us.”

The first time I found out that Jessica Blake was cheating on me was in our own bedroom. I was young and hot-headed, and I wanted a divorce on the spot. She cried and said she'd gotten drunk and mistaken the guy for me. She fell to her knees, begging me to forgive her. "If you divorce me, I'll jump from this window right now." That one line softened my heart for the next five years. During those years, she was gentle and caring, as if that night had never happened. Everyone could see it—Jessica loved me so much she was willing to die for me. But then came her mother's 60th birthday party. Out of nowhere, my mother-in-law, Linda, asked her, "Jess, where's my grandson? Why didn't he come?" I was confused. I thought she was just having a moment, so I smiled and said, "Mom, you forgot—Jess's due date is still two months away." Linda glanced at me calmly and murmured, "Oh… so you still don't know." My heart sank. I looked over at Jessica instinctively. She quietly put down her fork, as if she were talking about something as ordinary as the weather. "Actually, I have a son. He's five years old."