Kirito Jacket Novels & Stories

I’m the Vettori family princess. The only one. It was our fifth anniversary. A big dinner party at the estate. A waiter spilled red wine on my husband Marco, heir to the Rossi family. My best friend, Sofia, slapped the waiter. Hard. Then she was all over Marco, helping him out of his jacket. Her hand lingered on his waist. A second too long. I just stood there, watching. Sofia saw me. "I was just closer, that's all. Helping him clean up. Don't overthink it." I just smiled. Grabbed my glass. I went to make the rounds with the old dons from the other families. I would finish this night with my head held high. Later that night, Marco crawled into my bed, stinking of booze. His hands were on my waist. He wanted sex. I pushed him off. "The alliance is over," I said, my voice dead. "We're finished." Marco sobered up fast. His face went cold. "I'm trying to apologize here. You're divorcing me because Sofia helped me with my jacket?" I laughed. He didn’t get it. Not until I threw the proof of his betrayal in his face. Not until I cut him off from my family. Then he was on his knees, crying, begging me to forgive him.

Eight years as an invisible wife, and all I had to show for it was a room full of designer dresses I never wore, a pack that treated me like dirt, and a husband who just brought his mistress to my charity gala. Alpha Barnabas thought I was the weak, compliant Luna who would swallow his public humiliations forever. He was wrong. Hidden inside those mundane administrative papers he carelessly signed this morning was a legally binding divorce decree. I did not just leave him. I stripped his pack of three hundred million dollars, doused him in red wine, and walked out into the rain. But freedom has a price, and the Richardson pack does not let their scapegoats walk away alive. When their hired rogues ambush me, I expect death. Instead, I find him. Jeremiah Shawn. The untouchable, ruthless Ghost Alpha of the multi-billion-dollar Shawn Group. A man who rules the corporate world and the supernatural territories with absolute, cold power. He wraps me in his tailored jacket, crushes my enemies with a single look, and offers me a job as his chief secretary. Now, my ex-husband wants me back, the Pack Council demands my submission, and a hidden pregnancy threatens to change everything. But they are too late. I am no longer their broken Luna. With the most powerful man in the city backing my play, I am coming for the boardroom, the crown, and the ultimate corporate revenge.

After Bianca Vale and I were kidnapped at the same time, I watched Evan Pierce choose her. Even the kidnapper stared in surprise. After a long silence, he took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. “How did you end up even worse off than me? Your own husband won’t save you. Damn it... why won’t this rope come loose?” In the end, he bit through the knot with his teeth and mumbled, “Forget it. You don’t have to go down with me. Just remember to run.” With that, he shoved me toward Evan and jumped from the high-rise, resigned to his fate. I thought I had been saved, only to meet Evan’s ice-cold eyes. “Only if you die can Bianca become legitimate. “Clara Shaw, you should have stepped aside a long time ago.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the engagement party where Evan and I first became engaged. Ignoring the depth of feeling in his eyes, I walked straight to the corner, where Miles Langford was focused on playing a match-three game. “Mr. Langford, how about we discuss a partnership?” After all, I was the one who had once lifted Evan to the top. Putting Miles in that same seat now would not be difficult.

After the plane crash, I rejected the captain—my brother-in-law’s—final life jacket that he had as he handed it to me. Instead, I allowed myself to plunge a hundred meters from the sky. In my previous life, I had survived after accepting his life jacket. But he died a tragic death in the crash. After his death, I was consumed with guilt. My husband proposed to take care of two households at the same time so that he could look after his sister-in-law. Out of guilt, I reluctantly agreed to his proposal. I even had to give up my only chance of getting promoted to department head of the hospital to my sister-in-law, upon my husband’s insistence. When I was seventy years old, I suddenly saw my brother-in-law, who was supposed to be dead, show up in front of me. He said to my husband, “Bro, thank goodness you came up with that fake-death plan back then. I was drunk and caused the deaths of all the passengers after the plane crash. If not for that plan of yours, as the captain, I certainly could not have escaped scot-free and would have been sentenced to prison for life! “It was too bad we had to keep her in the dark for her entire life.” After a lifetime of sacrifices, I was so furious that I nearly passed out upon hearing my brother-in-law’s words. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the plane crash.

The streets were his home, a cardboard box was the only roof he had over his head, an old jacket he found in the trash was his only blanket and for his meals. He stole and made sure that he was the first to get to one of the restaurants' trash every night to make sure that he had something to eat. His life changed when he stole from a mafia boss, whom everyone was scared of, he was known for being ruthless and killed without mercy especially those who betrayed and stole from him. He was a Russian man with a thick accent and a very powerful aura, that made many shivers at his presence without him having said a word. But when he met him, he gave him a job instead of killing him like everyone thought he would, his job was to be his right-hand man. He was the one who did all the killings and dealing with his rivals. He gave him the name White tiger, one that was born once in every generation, he gave him this name because he said that he had the courage, was smart and cunning. The man was very handsome, tall with broad shoulders and he looked very big for his age. His eyes though were distant, cold, and deadly. One could not look at them longer than a second. His name was Antonio Rodrigues, The White Tiger.

A Golden Cage. A Secret Predator. An Unyielding Obsession. My family sold me as collateral to a monster, but the man who dismantled my hell was a coffee-brewing widower with a trillion-dollar secret. To Manhattan’s elite, I, Claire Desmond, am nothing more than a flawed asset—ready to be liquidated to save my family’s throne from bankruptcy. Jake Floyd, the arrogant billionaire holding my father’s debt, wants me as a submissive trophy in his golden cage. Amidst the desperation and the betrayal of my own flesh and blood, my only sanctuary is the warm embrace of Gareth Hamilton—a single father and SoHo cafe owner who looks at me as if I’m the only woman left on earth. But Gareth is more than just the scent of espresso and the denim jacket he lent me on a stormy night. Beneath his deadly calm, he is a cold-blooded apex predator capable of erasing my enemies with a single snap of his fingers. He quietly hacked his way into my life, bought out my family’s debt, and built an impenetrable fortress around me—all without letting me see the chains he was forging. When the lies about his true identity unravel and the ghosts of his dark past come seeking vengeance, I’m forced to face a reality that shatters my sanity. Is the man who claimed me with an intoxicating kiss the home I’ve been searching for... or just a new master, far more dangerous than the devil I left behind?

I used to be a top ballet dancer. The year I was diagnosed with a spinal hemangioma, my boyfriend Julian Blackwood said, "Wherever you go, I go." We'd been together three years. He walked beside me as I went, step by step, from the most luminous dancer on that stage to a woman in a wheelchair. Every time the nerve pain hit and I collapsed, he was the one who lifted me off the floor. Every round of electrostim and acupuncture, he sat in the corridor outside the therapy room and waited for me to come out. Before I got sick, he promised me—the night I finished my final performance of Swan Lake, we'd sign the marriage license. He'd bought tickets for that show three months in advance. I never stood on that stage again. And the marriage license never came up. Until the morning I noticed the collar of his white dress shirt carried a smudge of lipstick that wasn't mine. I heard him on the balcony. A woman's voice on the other end. "Mr. Blackwood, you left your jacket at the hotel last night. I'll bring it over." I stared at that smear of red, and something in me snapped. I laughed. "Send me to Westbrook. The locked-down rehab facility. I don't want to drag you down anymore." Something flickered in his eyes—a brief, animal panic. Then he nodded. He thought I meant rest. He didn't know I'd already signed the papers to donate my body to science. I was going there to die.

My name is Dakota Wetherby. On the very day my husband, Theodore Aldridge, and I get legally married, he brings his ex-girlfriend, Sofia Moretti, into our home. "Sofia recently suffered a miscarriage, so she's going through a very difficult time. I'm genuinely worried about her," he says. "We're just friends. It's only natural for friends to comfort each other," he adds. Sofia is Theodore's college sweetheart. Rumor has it they separated on good terms when she went abroad for further studies. Clad in Theodore's jacket, she curls up on our bed. Her pale, ashen face is streaked with tears. "I'm so sorry, Dakota. I had no idea you two were getting married today. "I was too upset and didn't know who else to reach out to, so I called Theo. "He was only comforting me because I lost my child. It's completely my fault for overstepping and ruining your wedding day. "You can ask for whatever compensation you want. Just please don't blame Theo for this." I hold the freshly issued marriage certificate from the courthouse and walk up to her. "Since you've brought it up, I suppose I'll reluctantly accept your compensation. "Theodore and I are married for business reasons, with billions in projects hanging in the balance. "Tell me, how exactly do you plan to make up for all of that?"

*My mate turns out to be the mafia king?!* “Stop flirting with my staff.” My head snaps toward the guy I’ve run into twice today. I thought he was just an average school playboy. “Your staff?” I ask stupidly. He smiles widely. “That’s right, sweetheart. This is my club.” * “W-what are you doing?” I whisper, but the look in his eyes says it all. “Do you feel that?” He asks. It takes a second, but then I feel tiny sparks racing along my skin as his hand slips under my jacket and over my skin. I gasp, and then his lips are on mine. *** A few years ago, a series of scientific research buildings were attacked. The chemicals from those research facilities had seeped into our water supply and slowly manipulated our DNA. Last year was the first report of someone showing a hint of supernatural abilities. Then another and another until suddenly, there were people with abilities popping up all over the place. People with abilities were either feared or envied. I have tried hiding my ability for as long as I can. My ability would have me locked up and used until there was nothing left of me. The ability to heal is a gift everyone would want to take advantage of, so I never use it…ever. Until... I meet him. Julian. My schoolmate. The boss of The Hell Club. The Mafia King. My...mate. What we didn't know at the time was that these so-called DNA alterations were all werewolf genes growing inside the human body. And he, Julian... is my mate.

On the day I'm diagnosed with dependent personality disorder, my family treats me like I'm the most fragile porcelain. My parents put me first in everything. Mom even quits her executive job to stay by my side during treatment. The day my condition finally stabilizes, they smile with genuine relief for the first time. Even my adopted older sister, Winifred Linberry, smiles. She says, "I told you Sadie wasn't that sick. She just wanted to hog your attention." That day, my parents scold her for the first time and insist she apologize to me. On the night she goes to a class reunion, I quietly mention that my heart feels a little uneasy. Dad suddenly slams the medicine box in his hand onto the floor. He roars, "Can't you be a little more considerate? Your sister just lost her competition and she's already upset! We've spent every day revolving around you. Can't we spend just a few hours with her? "If you don't feel well, take your medicine yourself. We've had enough!" The pills scatter across the floor. He grabs his jacket and storms out, slamming the door behind him. Mom looks at me, as if she wants to say something. In the end, she says nothing and follows him out. I don't say a word. I simply dig my fingernails into my arm as my breathing becomes more and more difficult.