Falling at 30,000 feets
On Valentine's Day, love is in the air-but so is danger.
At 30,000 feet, trainee captain Jane Harley proves she's more than just a rising pilot when she navigates a terrifying turbulence that leaves passengers shaken and lives hanging by a thread. Calm under pressurej and fiercely capable, Jane becomes the unexpected hero of Flight 423.
But while she's saving lives in the sky, fate is already setting something far more complicated in motion.
Among the passengers is the powerful and ambitious mother of Jayden-Aurelia Air's largest shareholder-whose midair health crisis is only the beginning of a chain of events. Grateful and intrigued, she sets her sights on Jane... not just as a hero, but as a future daughter-in-law.
Jayden, a grounded pilot with a sharp mind and guarded heart, has no interest in his mother's schemes-until one unexpected name changes everything.
In a world of wealth, expectations, and high-altitude emotions, two lives are about to collide.
Love, ambition, and fate take flight in Falling at 30,000 Feet.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 16
The next day, Jayden and Michael sat down in Aurelia's cafeteria-Plates of grilled chicken salad and fresh fruit sat before them, steam rising from their cups of coffee.
"So how was last night talk?" Michael asked, spearing a piece of cucumber with his fork. "Did you finally tell her who you are?"
"No talking while eating," Jayden said, his focus fixed on his food as he carefully arranged his salad into neat sections. "And no speaking after lights out-"
Michael looked up from his plate, a knowing smile spreading across his face. "Hmm," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I guess last night didn't go well." Leaning over to Jayden and slinging his arm casually over his shoulder, he shook his head sympathetically. "I feel you bro... it's pathetic. The great Jayden Blackwood-hiding from his own wife."
Two air hostesses sat at a table behind them, their voices carrying clearly across the quiet room. The first-Maria, with dark hair pulled back in a tight bun-leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Jayden and Michael.
"That guy that is sitting beside First Officer Torres is the externally appointed Chief Pilot," she said, her voice low but excited. "I saw his name on the executive roster this morning-Captain Blackwood."
"So handsome," the second air hostess-Lila, a blonde with bright pink lipstick-giggled, twirling her hair around her finger. "Too bad he's not straight," Maria replied, nodding toward Michael's arm draped over Jayden's shoulder. "Look at the way they're together-so close."
The second hostess widened her eyes in surprise. "You mean First Officer Torres and him-they are gay...?"
"Yes," Maria replied, her voice softening with admiration. "But don't spread rumors... they defy societal norms, bravely staying together despite the industry's old-fashioned ways. I'll guard their secret with love." She looked at them with a warm smile. "What a perfect match," Lila sighed. "Don't worry, my lips are sealed."
Michael and Jayden were completely oblivious to the conversation, finishing their meal and stacking their plates neatly on the tray. They headed back to Jayden's office, walking side by side down the polished corridor-Michael still chatting animatedly about his latest date, Jayden nodding absently as he reviewed documents on his phone.
As they entered Jayden's office, Lila dragged a cleaner-an older man named Carlos-toward the doorway, her eyes bright with gossip.
"Did you hear that First Officer Torres and the new Chief Pilot are gay...?" she whispered in his ear, glancing back toward the office door.
Just then Jane had turned the corridor and heard their conversation.
"No way," Carlos replied, wiping his hands on his apron. "I've worked here for ten years-Michael Torres has dated half the air hostesses in this building."
"Hm," Lila said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "So he's playing both sides. What a player." She and Carlos walked away, their voices fading as they moved down the corridor-but their gossip was no longer audible to Jane.
She stopped slowly beside the spot where they'd been standing, her hand tightening on her folder as she listened to their retreating footsteps. Chief Pilot Blackwood... she thought, her brow furrowing.
Meanwhile inside Jayden's office, Michael collapsed into the leather chair across from Jayden's desk, stretching his arms above his head. "I need a nap," he groaned. "All this matchmaking and secret-keeping is exhausting." He reached for the box of tissues on the desk-and sneezed loudly, three times in a row.
"Who is thinking of me?" he exclaimed, dabbing at his nose. "Someone must be talking about me."
"Maybe one of your dear ex-girlfriends," Jayden said, not looking up from the stack of documents on his desk. his pen moving steadily as he made notes in the margins.
"Hey!" Michael exclaimed, pointing at Jayden dramatically. "You know me-every relationship of mine ends on good terms. I always make sure they're taken care of." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And I give them generous compensations-last one got a brand new car. They were all thrilled. So why should they curse me?"
"You should settle down," Jayden said, finally lifting his eyes to look at his friend. His gaze was steady, daring almost. "And stop making your father worry."
Michael groaned, slumping back in his chair. "Don't start with that-"
A knock on the door cut him off.
"Captain Blackwood, I'm here to submit the copilot replacement report," Jane's voice called from outside. "It's Captain Harley."
Inside his office, Jayden quickly raised his head up from his desk, his eyes wide with panic. He'd completely forgotten Jane was supposed to submit her report today-
"What do we do...?" he whispered, pushing his chair back slightly. "She can't see me here-she'll know I've been lying."
Michael quickly stood up from his seat, his mind racing. "Don't panic... just find somewhere to hide."
After some seconds of silence, Jayden's eyes darted around the office-bookshelves, cabinets, the small storage closet in the corner. All too obvious. "Quickly," Michael urged, waving his hands frantically. "Go hide..."
"Where??" Jayden asked, his voice rising slightly with panic as he heard the door handle beginning to turn.
"I'm coming in," Jane said from outside, her hand already on the latch.
"Quickly..." Michael hissed, grabbing Jayden's arm and pulling him toward the desk. "Bend over your desk-underneath it. She won't see you if you stay low."
Jayden had no time to argue. He quickly bent over, crawling under the large mahogany desk-but in his panic, he misjudged the space. His head bumped against the underside of the desk, then rolled forward, coming to rest on Michael's lap as he tried to force himself further under.
At this exact moment, Jane walked in.
The sight that greeted her made her freeze in the doorway-Michael standing beside the desk, his hand resting on Jayden's shoulder as Jayden's head was positioned in his lap, his body bent awkwardly under the desk. It looked for all the world like Jayden was giving him a blowjob.
The thick folder of reports dropped from her hand onto the ground with a loud thud, papers scattering across the polished floor.
Jane stared, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. Her face flushed bright red, and she quickly turned her head away, her hand flying to cover her mouth.
You may also like
9.7
I was an intern nurse working exhausting shifts, yet my mother constantly forced me into blind dates with wealthy, arrogant men to secure our family's social standing.
During a terrifying hospital lockdown, an assassin disguised as a doctor held a scalpel to my throat. I was almost killed, but a high-ranking military colonel threw his own body down a flight of concrete stairs to shield me.
I survived with cuts and bruises, but when I went home, my mother didn't care about my near-death experience. She was only furious that I had rushed out on my blind date with Preston, a rich financial analyst.
She forced me to meet him to apologize. When Preston grabbed my arm, bruised me, and mocked my attack as a pathetic lie, my mother still took his side.
"Men get angry," she told me coldly. "It's your job not to provoke them. You will beg for his forgiveness, or you are no longer welcome in this house."
I had narrowly escaped an assassin, yet my own family was willing to feed me to a monster just for a fat paycheck and neighborhood gossip.
My heart went completely dead.
So, when the intimidating Colonel appeared, offering me maximum military protection through a sudden marriage, I didn't hesitate.
I walked back into my parents' house and calmly slapped a crisp marriage certificate onto the coffee table.
"I won't be apologizing to Preston. I got married today."
7.3
Ten years ago, I was banished from my pack, branded a whore and a traitor for allegedly drugging and stealing my sister's fated mate.
Now, I was summoned back because my father, the Alpha who disowned me, was dying from a poisoned attack.
Standing by his deathbed, a locked memory finally surfaced—I didn't drug anyone. My husband and I were both victims, poisoned with wolfsbane to force our mating.
But before my father could reveal who orchestrated the setup, his heart monitor flatlined.
My brother instantly shoved me to the ground, pointing a trembling finger at my face.
"You killed him. I will hunt you, I will break you, and I will make your life a living hell."
Even my husband, Kieran, the man I was forced to marry to save our unborn child, walked right past me in the hospital corridor.
He didn't spare me a single glance, choosing instead to gently comfort my mother while I sat bruised and shattered on the cold floor.
I didn't understand why my own family hated me so blindly, and I understood even less who had framed me a decade ago.
What terrified my father so much in his final moments that he couldn't even speak the culprit's name?
Watching my cold husband walk away with the family that abandoned me, the last shred of my naive hope died.
I wiped my tears and stood up. This time, I was going to tear this pack apart to find the truth.
9.3
My husband Hudson had kept me a medicated ghost for three years, convinced I was unstable. But a cheap pink hair clip, tangled with golden blonde hair in his car, ripped through the chemical haze. The bitter pill he forced me to take wouldn't numb the burning truth, only fuel my awakening.
I was an architect once, but now I was just Cora, a docile wife trapped in his suffocating world. When he saw my shock, his concern was sickeningly sweet as he offered another Xanax. I pretended to swallow the poison, letting it dissolve under my tongue, a constant reminder of my awakening.
Back at the mansion, his massive car deliberately blocked mine, a crude barricade confirming his control. Then, a message from an old intern confirmed my darkest fears: this was domestic abuse. He urged me to check Hudson’s closet, to record everything.
I knew then I was living with a dangerous monster, and my denial shattered. The anger burned, fueled by the bitter taste of that undissolved pill.
That night, Hudson walked in, wearing a hideous, sloppily tied red polka-dot tie. It was a clear, undeniable sign of another woman. My architect’s mind was awake, cold and calculating. "Game on, Hudson." I would make him taste this bitterness back a thousand times.
9.3
Candice Luna thought her marriage to Julius Hansen was a lifeline to save her father's struggling company.
She didn't know it was a death sentence until Julius coldly slid divorce papers across his mahogany desk.
His true love, Amina Rowe, was nestled in his arms with a triumphant, mocking smile. The "merger" Julius promised had been a brutal, hostile takeover designed to bleed the Luna Group dry from the inside. Bankrupted and utterly broken, Candice's father stepped off the roof of their corporate tower. Meanwhile, Candice was publicly humiliated, stripped of her dignity, and mocked by all of Wall Street as a discarded stepping stone.
She died in a car accident, her final moments consumed by an agonizing, feral scream. She hated herself for letting her blind devotion destroy the father who had always believed in her.
But when Candice opened her eyes to the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room, she realized she wasn't dead.
She was twenty-two again. Three years before the wedding. Three years before her father's suicide.
When Julius's assistant walked in holding a bouquet of blue roses to discuss the preliminary merger, he expected a docile, desperate heiress.
Instead, Candice grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand and flung it directly into his smug face.
"Tell Julius Hansen to never, ever send his dogs to my door again."
This time, there would be no engagement. This time, the Hansen family would choke on her family's legacy.
7.0
I was the Stanton family heiress, engaged to the President's son to secure a vital military alliance.
But he cornered me in the White House sitting room, slamming a thick manila folder onto the marble table.
"I said, sign the annulment agreement, Hester."
He looked at me like I was dirt, demanding I step aside so he could be with a manipulative intern named Tricia.
In my past life, I was a naive lamb. I cried and begged him not to end it. My devotion was rewarded with absolute cruelty. He ordered my bones broken and my reputation completely shredded. My trusted assistant forced poison down my throat, and I was left to die with a rope burning my neck.
Until my last breath, I didn't understand. I had done everything perfectly for the family. Why did my unwavering loyalty only bring me a gruesome death? Why did the monsters who tortured me get to live happily in the highest seats of power?
Opening my eyes again, the suffocating terror of the noose suddenly washed away. I was sixteen again, staring at the exact same annulment papers.
"Hester, please. Just let us be happy," Tricia whimpered, reaching out her trembling hand.
This time, I didn't cry. I picked up the solid gold fountain pen, stabbed it violently through the center of the contract, and prepared to drag the entire First Family straight to hell.
9.3
My husband of three years dragged me into the freezing autumn ocean because my stepsister claimed I bullied her.
When she faked a sprained ankle in the shallow water, he immediately abandoned me in the roaring waves to save her, not knowing I was eight weeks pregnant.
The icy undertow swept me away, causing a brutal miscarriage. Later in the hospital, my traumatized body started hemorrhaging, and I desperately needed a rare blood transfusion.
My stepsister, who shared my blood type, held my life hostage. She forced my husband to sign our divorce papers before she would donate a single drop.
By the time the blood reached me, my uterus was irreparably damaged. I permanently lost the right to ever be a mother.
"The Anderson family can't have an infertile matriarch."
My own parents said this as they falsified my medical records to protect her. And my husband, blinded by his misplaced loyalty, simply walked away, leaving me with a meager settlement.
I lost my baby, my fertility, and my marriage all in one week. How could the people I trusted most be so completely heartless?
But looking at the divorce papers, I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly signed my name and unsealed my Yale architecture degree.
"I'm in. Send me the files for the Manhattan project."
The weak, pathetic Mrs. Anderson died on that operating table. Crista Cherry is back, and it's time for them to pay.