Gotham Wayne Manor Novels & Stories

The gates groaned on ancient, well-oiled hinges, swinging inward to grant them passage. The estate itself was an architectural monument to ruthless old-money dominance. Wexford Manor sprawled across acres of manicured, brutalist landscaping—dark stone walls covered in suffocating blankets of ivy, narrow Gothic windows that stared out like unblinking eyes, and towering chimneys belching gray smoke into the morning fog. It was a place designed to intimidate, to remind every visitor of their absolute insignificance before the altar of generational wealth. The cars came to a synchronized, hissing halt in the circular drive before the grand double doors of the manor.

"What do you have for me?" Upon hearing Grayson's directness, Wayne decided to get straight to the point. "How do you plan to make up for sending someone to attack my mother? I'm not asking for much, just one million dollars!" Wayne adjusted his demand after being impressed by the Xander Residence's grandeur. Grayson's gaze turned cold, and he sneered. "I beat up your mother? Who is your mother?" "Lily Smith. She works for Caroline Shenton as their nanny!" Wayne replied.

Underground Bunker – Coleman Manor Ruins – 2:47 AM The backup server's hologram flickered, casting eerie blue light over the charred remnants of what had once been Michael Coleman's private study. The fire that had consumed Coleman Manor six months ago had been thorough—federal investigators had found nothing but ash and twisted metal. But thirty feet below the ruins, in a bunker that existed on no blueprints and in no municipal records, the true heart of Michael's empire still pulsed with malevolent life.

“Sorry for calling you this late, but we had to set aside the project since Bill is still unconscious.” My world suddenly spun around me. “W-what? I thought—” “He’s OD with an energy drink, sir.” *** The Thirty-five rooms Kentworthry Manor stood on the ground for over a century still looked prestigious with its Shakespearean architectural design from granite blocks. “Welcome back! How’s your flight?” Mama met me at the door. “Terribly long, but it’s worth it now that I am here. I missed you, Mama.” I pulled her into a hug.

Reaching the border back into Nigeria, the military stopped their vehicle, requested for their ID cards, they showed their cards, a soldier walked around the truck searching for something illegal, he opened the back seat door then looked at the chair, there was nothing, he touched the soft form to see if something was hiding inside it, he tried to lift the seat up but it would not move, he shut the door then signalled them to go, they entered Nigeria, Victor and John looked at each other and smiled “Smart plan Victor” John said… PRESENT Berlin, Germany Gunther Manor The G-wagon arrived in front of a large bar gate, there were two security personnel there, and through a push button the gate o

Make it look like I was the one holding us up. Forty minutes later, the iron gates of the Carmen Blackwood Manor swung open. The estate was breathtaking—twenty acres of ancient forest and perfectly kept grounds surrounding a massive stone manor. Unlike the modern glass tower Sebastian lived in, this place felt like the heart of the pack. It felt like history.

The first twenty-six years of her life were miserable, but after meeting Callum, her life was filled with happiness and contentment. It seemed God pitied her enough to grant her a fulfilling second half of her life. While Camryn reminisced, Trenton called Lana after ending his call with his sister. When Lana answered the phone, he apologized, “Lana, I’m sorry, I can’t take you to visit Wildridge Manor. “Wildridge Manor is the Yorks’ ancestral home. It’s not a tourist attraction and isn’t open to the public. Even their close relatives and friends need to call in advance to report their visit and obtain permission before going there.”

XANDER Moon Manor was the ancestral residence of my family—home to generations of the Moonstone lineage for centuries. Though it had long since outgrown its original form, reshaped by countless renovations and modern reconstructions to fit the contemporary world, certain parts of it had remained untouched. One of them was the underground dungeon. Hidden beneath the calm, glamorous surface, it was a place never acknowledged publicly. A private holding facility where enemies of the family were imprisoned, interrogated, and dealt with.

I want to call Caden right now, hear his voice go rough with that specific tenderness he reserves only for me, hear him say something ridiculous and wonderful like he always does when something matters to him. My driver, Marco, is waiting at the curb. He opens the rear door with a respectful dip of his head the moment he spots me. "Home, ma'am?" he asks. "Home," I confirm, sliding inside. The word settles over me like a warm blanket. Home. Blackwell Manor, sitting at the top of Cresthaven Ridge, surrounded by dark pines and the rich, earthy scent of pack territory. It never truly felt like mine in the beginning — that sprawling stone estate with its high ceilings and cold portraits of Caden'

Fedora whispered, her hands tracing the line of my shoulders before I shrugged off her hold, ignoring her soft sigh just as the door closed behind me. # My claws scrapped nosily against the skill throne as the wolves murmured restlessly between themselves. “Where is he?” “Is this man even worth stepping foot in Gotham!” Their words bubbled in the darkly lit throne room. The overhead chandeliers clanked noisily in the passing breeze that drifted from the large windows surrounding us. The soft dirge of the piano was all but forgotten as the skies on the glass roof of the ceiling changed to an evening grey. The scribe had passed an inquest to the dreaded rogue wolf of the North. A man even dead