Novels by Dyanne

The rest of the afternoon passed wrapped in a tense calm. It took Dr. Castillo nearly two hours to properly disinfect, stitch, and bandage Alexander’s wound. Harper remained in her room with Ethan, using piano music and watercolors to completely isolate the little boy from the constant murmurs and hurried footsteps echoing down the corridors.When dinner time arrived, Mrs. Reynolds brought a tray up to the suite for Ethan, informing Harper that Mr. Cole requested her presence in the main dining room at eight o'clock sharp.Harper looked at herself in the mirror before going downstairs. She had changed out of her stained blouse into a simple white button-down shirt and a fitted knee-length skirt. Her reflection showed a woman who looked serene on the outside, but inside she felt a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The closeness in the office, the firmness of Alexander’s hand on her cheek, and the raw truth about his world had irrevocably altered the distance she was supposed to mainta

Morning dawned wrapped in a thick gray fog that crept down from the hills toward the estate. The silence in the west wing of the mansion was absolute, broken only by the soft creak of the floorboards beneath Harper’s footsteps. When she went down to the grand hall at seven in the morning, she found the house strangely deserted. There was no sign of the usual guards in the foyer, and the door to Alexander’s office stood ajar, revealing an empty room with the desk covered in maps of the port area and active security monitors.Mrs. Reynolds was waiting for her in the main dining room with a tray of freshly brewed tea and a basket of warm rolls.“Mr. Cole left for the industrial district at four in the morning,” the housekeeper explained with a shadowed face before Harper could even ask. “He left a reduced escort around the outer perimeter and ordered that no one leave the property under any circumstances today.”“Did something serious happen?” Harper asked, feeling an immediate knot in h

Ethan’s sobbing finally died down, settling into a slow, rhythmic breathing. Exhausted by the panic attack and accumulated fatigue, the little boy fell fast asleep on Harper’s chest, his tiny hand clinging tightly to the lapel of her blouse.Harper remained motionless on the floor so as not to wake him. Her gaze met Alexander’s, who was still standing in the shadows of the doorway, as still as a statue. The dangerous mafia boss, capable of ordering a war on the docks without blinking, was looking at his son with a vulnerability so heartbreaking that it made Harper’s heart ache.Alexander approached with noiseless steps and knelt beside her. His large hands, marked by almost imperceptible scars, reached out with extreme gentleness to take Ethan into his arms. Sensing the shift, the child let go of Harper’s blouse and instinctively nestled against his father’s chest.Alexander lifted him effortlessly and laid him on the bed, softly pulling the blankets over him. He lingered over him for

The silence that followed Alexander's departure was heavy, almost suffocating. It took Harper a few seconds to steady her own breathing. She knew the city harbored dark stories about the Cole family, but witnessing the drastic change in Alexander's gaze at the mention of the Moretti name had been a clear lesson: in that house, danger wasn't an abstract possibility but a constant shadow.Forcing herself to set aside her unease, Harper took a deep breath and turned to Ethan. The little boy was holding the brush with a trembling hand, staring at the blue paint pan without knowing exactly how to use the water reservoir."Let me show you," Harper said softly, kneeling beside him. The warm tone of her voice seemed to dispel the tension in the room immediately.She showed him how to gently press the body of the brush so that a drop of water moistened the bristles, and how to slide it over the paint to extract the pigment. Ethan's eyes opened with a spark of childish curiosity. With meticulou

The drive to the outskirts of the city felt eternal. Through the tinted windows of the sedan, Harper watched as the urban landscape of skyscrapers and busy streets gave way to wooded hills and private roads. The silence inside the vehicle was broken only by the faint hum of the engine and the accelerated beating of her own heart.Finally, the car slowed as it approached an imposing wrought-iron gate, guarded by security cameras and armed men in dark suits. After a brief verification, the gates opened slowly.Alexander Cole's property was not just a residence; it was a modern fortress. A mansion of avant-garde architecture, built with polished concrete structures, enormous panels of armored glass, and surrounded by acres of private forest and immaculate gardens. Despite the beauty of the surroundings, an undeniable atmosphere of isolation and constant surveillance weighed upon the place.The chauffeur stopped the vehicle in front of the main staircase and hurried to open the door for H

The tension in the classroom could have been cut with a scalpel. Alexander walked slowly toward where his son sat, each step measured and firm, closing the distance that separated him from the teacher. His steel-blue eyes swept over Harper's face, searching for any hint of fear, nervousness, or falseness. He was accustomed to people trembling in his presence, but the young woman before him merely held his gaze with untouched serenity.Alexander crouched in front of Ethan, lowering his imposing height to meet the little boy at eye level. The coldness on the mobster's face softened immediately, revealing the crack through which a desperate father breathed."Hey, champ," Alexander murmured, using a strangely gentle tone that contrasted with his intimidating appearance. "How was your day?"Ethan didn't respond with words. Instead, he lifted the sheet of paper he had been coloring with Harper and held it out to his father. Alexander took the drawing delicately, observing the green strokes