Needle In A Haystack Novels & Stories

Inside the tattoo studio, Seth Jones let his fingertips trace the dip of Rita Searle's waist and move slowly up her spine. With a soft rustle, her dress slipped to her ankles. He stood over her, taking in the blood-red rose inked across her chest. They had been married for three years, and this was the anniversary gift he'd be giving her—999 roses tattooed into her skin. A broken sob scraped up Rita's throat. "Seth, it hurts… Please, stop…" Her tears splashed onto the back of his hand, but he only pressed the needle deeper, dragging it along until angry red welts marked her body. "Victor wanted those damn roses so he could give them to another woman, and that led to Tara falling off that cliff and ending up in a vegetative state. I'm just giving him what he wanted. You should be grateful." Lying on the cold tattoo table, Rita felt the chill spreading through her. Her eyes stung, weighed down by grief churning behind them. "Isn't it enough? You bought out Searle Group, you hung Victor over a cliff, and left him for the vultures. What else do you want from us?" Seth grabbed her by the throat and forced her chin up. "And isn't Tara innocent in all this? Rita, you and Victor destroyed her life. Don't you owe her for that?"

Elena Moore spent ten years sharpening herself into a weapon. Her target: Damian Morton—the billionaire who called her family’s destruction “market correction.” To get close enough to slit his throat, she signs a contract to become his surrogate. But the first blood test shatters everything. Silver threads ignite beneath her skin. Wounds close before the needle leaves. And a second heartbeat begins to pulse low in her abdomen. The DNA Key her father hid in her bloodline is waking up. The child isn’t an heir. It’s a biological trigger powerful enough to control the world. Damian Morton isn’t the monster she expected. He’s the man who watched her mother die ten years ago—and has spent a decade building walls of surveillance and obsession to never be powerless again. Now he protects Elena with the same ruthless control he once used to cage her. “Touch her and you’re dead,” he growls, blood on his hands. Elena hates him enough to kill him. She needs him enough to survive him. As silver hair begins to fall and the child’s pulse syncs with her veins, the hunters on her revenge list start hunting her back. Now Elena must choose: Finish the revenge she lived for— or trust the monster who may be the only man capable of keeping her human. Blood remembers.And revenge never ends clean.

We're celebrating my son, Baby Selwyn, turning a month old. I'm walking past the pool with him in my arms when someone shoves me from behind. Colin Selwyn jumps into the pool like a madman. He saves us and immediately rushes us to the hospital. Baby Selwyn makes it out alive because of the timely rescue. When I open my eyes again, Baby Selwyn and Colin aren't by my side. I sit up while coughing and remove the needle inserted into my hand. I leave the hospital room and head for the pediatric department, wanting to see Baby Selwyn. However, as I walk past the emergency room, I hear Colin talking to a doctor. "We managed to save the child from drowning, Mr. Selwyn. Why has he now died of asphyxiation?" "I smothered him. Per the plan, he was never supposed to make it out alive!" "But why? He's your son!" "I promised Sandy that I would make our child the Selwyn family's sole heir. Lucille should never have given birth to Baby Selwyn." Colin's tone is gentle and calm, yet his words are cold and cruel. I've always thought I had a loving marriage, but it's just a joke! I've already lost my beloved son, and my heartless husband is the one behind his death. I don't want him anymore!

The contractions were ripping me in two. My vision was going dark. My husband, Don Vittorio, the man who ruled Chicago, squeezed my hand. His dark eyes burned with love. "Just a little longer, mia cara. You'll meet our baby soon." Sweat poured down my face. I still found the strength to smile for him. Then a nurse walked in. She held a syringe. I thought it was to stop the pain. But Vittorio’s hand fell away. He took a single step back. The needle sank into my arm. I heard Vittorio’s voice. It was cold steel. "Dose her carefully. She holds on until midnight. Not a minute sooner. Not until after Ornella delivers." And then I knew. He thought I married him for the money. He was stopping my labor. All for a sick Falcone family rule: the first son born is the next heir. Pain tore through me. I reached for him. Tears streamed down my face. I begged him to stop. He bit his lip. His voice was pure ice. "My brother is dead. Ornella carries his only heir. You will do as you are told. You and your child will not steal his birthright." The drug hit my veins. The violent squeeze in my belly, like some invisible hand, just… stopped.

She was born as the legitimate daughter of Beta Henry's wife, enduring hardship for eight years before finally becoming the Luna of the Lycan King. However, fate was cruel as her husband fell in love with her elder sister and stripped her of her Luna position, forcing her son to die! In the cold and lonely prison, she gritted her teeth and drank the poisonous wine to the last drop! She vowed to the heavens that if there were a next life, she would never do good deeds to help others, never enter the palace, and never become a Luna! As the reincarnated daughter of the Prime Minister's residence, she returned as a wicked woman: An evil and malicious eldest sister? Schemes will send you to hell! A deceitful and treacherous elder sister? Cruel tear apart that beautiful facade! A scheming younger sister? Directly throw her into the abyss! Since they didn't let her live in peace, then no one should expect to live in peace! She had intended to distance herself from troubles; the farther, the better. But who would have expected the hearts of men, like a needle at the bottom of the sea, impossible to find or guess? The man who swore to leave her behind now wanted to live and die for her sake. Her lifelong enemy in her previous life secretly admired her for many years. And what was even more unfortunate was being entangled by the most handsome and unrivaled man in the world...

My wife has a severe sex addiction. But in the seven years we've been married, she never lets me touch her. To suppress her urges, she spends all day submerged in ice-cold water, and her arms are covered in needle marks. Several times, I try to initiate intimacy out of concern for her, but her reaction is terrifying. She even threatens to kill herself. "I told you, I only want a Platonic relationship in this lifetime. Can you stop being so selfish? If you insist on making me do that, I'd rather die!" she exclaims. She maintains this unusual obsession for seven years. Even after ending up in the hospital multiple times from suppressing her desires, she refuses to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a man comes in for a pre-check of his phalloplasty enlargement for the ninth time. After the anesthesia takes effect, he begins rambling incoherently. "Honey, I love you so much." Looking at the surgical scars, I shake my head, thinking this guy is really willing to go to extreme lengths for his wife. Then, I hear his final murmur. "Tasha, aren't I so much better compared to your useless husband?" My hand jerks, and I nearly drop the scalpel. It is because my wife's name is Tasha Snyder.

On the very day I underwent a vasectomy, Susan bought the designer tuxedo I had been eyeing for months. However, her next words struck me like a bolt of lightning. “Tomorrow is my baby’s sip-and-see. I need you looking your best.” The IV needle snapped right out of the back of my hand. With bloodshot eyes, I begged her to stop playing around. However, her face remained dead serious. “Choosing to be childfree back then was just a compromise because we were struggling. But now, I’m sitting on a multi-million dollar estate. I need an heir to inherit my fortune. My child will be your child, too. From now on, you will be the baby’s godfather.” In that exact moment, my vision blurred. “So, you pushed me to get a vasectomy just to secure the positions of your lover and your illegitimate child?" I spat out. Susan frowned, annoyed. “Myles, watch your mouth. I am giving you the status of my official husband, and I'm giving Owen the child. It’s a fair trade. Staying with me means you get to be a father without any of the pain. If you leave me, who else would ever want a sterilized man like you? Think about it wisely.” The pain hit me all at once as the anesthesia wore off. Yet, I couldn’t help but remember that once upon a time, she had carried a child of ours that she refused to accept.

Ever since I can remember, I was Nina's blood bank. Nina was like a glass princess. One sneeze and she could break. She needed blood all the time just to stay okay. Mom had her tubes untied just to have me to save Nina. My arms were always full of needle marks. Mom and Dad looked at me like they felt bad. "Chloe, you're a good girl. Nina's sick. She doesn't mean it when she gets mad. Be patient with her." I made myself smile. "I know. You can take more. I'm not scared." They turned away and cried. I thought if I stayed good and didn't complain, they'd love me someday. Then I won first place in a painting contest. Nina ripped the bandage off her hand and started crying. "Why are you showing off? Why am I the sick one? I hate you!" Mom shoved me to the ground. "Your sister can't even go to school. What are you bragging about some dumb paper for? How can you be this mean? Why couldn't you be the sick one?" Dad carried Nina out. He didn't look at me. I ran after the car all the way to the hospital. I only heard the doctor say, "Without a full blood replacement, she won't make it three months." I looked at my arm. 'Nina, please don't hate me anymore. If I give you my life, will that be enough?'

My husband had a severe addiction for physical intimacy. However, in the seven years of our marriage, he never touched me, not even once. To suppress his urges, he soaked himself in bone-chilling ice water every night. His arms were covered in needle marks from constant injections. It broke my heart to see him like that. I offered myself to him many times, but he insisted on simply giving me a restrained kiss on the forehead before saying, “Don’t be silly, Summer. I’m not like those animals. How could I ever bear to hurt you? For you, I’d gladly live the rest of my life in a platonic marriage.” This strange, almost obsessive restraint of his lasted seven years. Despite the numerous times he pushed himself far enough to end up hospitalized, he still refused to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a young woman named Anna Brandt came in for her ninth hymen restoration surgery. After the anesthetic was administered, her cheeks flushed red. As her mind grew hazy, she started crying weakly like a lost kitten. Looking at the love bites scattered across her body, I shook my head and assumed she was just another girl who had gone astray. That was until I heard her last tearful whisper. “John Shaw, you jerk.” My hand trembled and I nearly dropped the scalpel. Because my husband’s name also was John Shaw.

"Temptation so strong that it ended up crossing all limits of madness." "S-Stay b-back Adrian, p-please." His leather boots clanked against the tiled floor as the sobbing girl continued crawling backwards while watching the man with alarmed eyes. His expression was stern, but the streaks of red covering the bottom of his almond eyes indicated his wrath. "Get up. There's no need for you to be afraid." He tried calming her down, but she knew it was all a pretence. She tried escaping him; there's no way he could be calm about it. Her heart lurched in her mouth as her back hit the cold wall. Placing his knee on the floor, Adrian crouched down to her level and raised his hand to wipe her tears. "Sshh. First, calm down," he soothed her and caressed her cheek. Running his fingers through her locks, he gently swept them from her face and cupped the back of her head. Claire squirmed in unease as she felt his fingers gliding through her bare nape. "W-What are you doing?" Her struggles turned frantic as his grip turned rough. From the corner of her eyes, she saw him pulling out a syringe. Her eyes widened in horror, and before she could understand, he pierced the needle deep into her flesh. "Now you can go wherever you want to." Her heart stopped. He just planted a tracker inside her.