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.
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Chapter 17
⸻
"You two-!" Jane's voice cut sharply through the office, echoing off the high ceilings and polished wood walls. Her face was flushed with anger, her eyes wide with what looked like a mix of shock and betrayal.
Jayden's head was still lowered, his face hidden just long enough for the situation to look far worse than it was-his body bent awkwardly under the desk, his head resting against Michael's legs as he'd tried to scramble out of sight. Before he could straighten up fully, before he could even get his hair out of his eyes-
Michael jumped in front of her, his hands raised defensively.
"It's not what you think!" he said quickly, waving his hands in a panic as if he could physically block her understanding, could rewrite what she'd just seen. "We were just-"
Jane's eyes narrowed into sharp slits. She hadn't even fully processed who was there yet-only the image burned into her mind.
Then-
Jayden stood up fully, brushing dust from his shirt and pushing his hair out of his face. His eyes met hers, wide with panic and something that looked like shame.
"Jane, I can explain-"
"No need," she cut him off, her tone instantly shifting from angry to cold, controlled, professional. The same voice she used when addressing unruly passengers or dealing with safety violations. "I already understand. There's no need to say anything more."
Michael froze, his mouth hanging open. "What do you think you understand?!" he cried out dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air. "Don't jump to conclusions! This isn't Jayden's fault-it's mine"
Before he could say anything else-
Smack.
The sound echoed through the quiet office like a gunshot.
Michael clutched his cheek in shock, his eyes watering as he stared at Jane in disbelief. A bright red handprint was already forming on his skin.
"Of course it's not Jayden's fault!" Jane snapped, her voice rising with anger as she stepped between him and Jayden, as if shielding her husband from harm. "He trusted you-treated you like a friend-and this is how you repay him?"
Michael blinked, completely lost.
"Repay him... how exactly?!" he sputtered, rubbing his cheek gingerly.
"You even tried to force him!" Jane continued, grabbing Jayden's arm and pulling him gently but firmly away from Michael. Her eyes were blazing with protective fury.
"Force him to do what?!" Michael shouted, utterly bewildered.
"I saw everything!" Jane shot back, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. "The way you were holding him down-"
"I was trying to push his head further under the desk so you wouldn't see him!" Michael interrupted, his own voice rising now. "I wasn't-we weren't-!"
Jane turned, glaring at him with a warning that carried real weight-she was a pilot, trained to stay calm under pressure, but right now she looked ready to take him down with her bare hands.
"Let me make this clear-if you dare lay a finger on my husband again, I won't show you any mercy," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "I'll report you to HR, I'll have you grounded, and I'll make sure you never fly with Aurelia again. Do you understand me?"
With that, she dragged Jayden out of the office, slamming the door behind them with a force that made the walls shake.
Behind them-
Michael stood frozen, hand still on his cheek. The red mark was already darkening, and he could feel the sting spreading down his jaw.
"...What did I do to deserve this?" he muttered, his voice full of wounded disbelief as he sank into the nearest chair. "I was just trying to help..."
⸻
Out in the corridor, Jane didn't slow down. Her heels clicked sharply against the tile floor as she pulled Jayden along, her grip on his wrist firm but not painful-almost protective, like she was guiding him away from danger.
"Jane..." Jayden said carefully, trying to step in time with her long strides, trying to regain control of the situation before she dragged him all the way to the parking lot. "There's been a misunderstanding. A big one."
She stopped abruptly and turned to him, her expression shifting from determined to confused.
"What could possibly be misunderstood?" she asked, genuinely baffled as she looked up at him. "I saw what I saw, Jayden. And I heard the rumors today-everyone's talking about it."
Jayden opened his mouth to explain-I'm the Chief Pilot. I was hiding because I didn't want you to know. Michael was just helping me.
Closed it.
Because there was too much to explain. Too many secrets stacked up between them. And none of it was safe to say-not now, not when she was already so upset.
"I heard the rumors today," Jane continued, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned against the wall. "About Michael Torres... and the chief pilot. Everyone says they're together."
Jayden's heart skipped a beat, his hands unconsciously clenching at his sides. She's talking about me.
"No wonder he abandoned his fiancée for five years," she added, her tone edged with disdain as she shook her head.
She huffed softly, her expression softening into something like pity.
"It's even more unfortunate that he shares your surname," she said, pouting slightly as she reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "What rotten luck. People might get confused and think you're related."
Jayden's thoughts spiraled into chaos. She thinks I'm just some unemployed cargo pilot with the same last name as the Chief Pilot. She thinks the Chief Pilot is cheating on his fiancée and having an affair with Michael. And she thinks Michael just tried to assault me.
I definitely cannot reveal the truth now.
"...Yeah," he said slowly, choosing survival over honesty as he nodded along with her words. "What rotten luck."
Jane looked at him again, her expression softening almost immediately-all the anger and protectiveness melting away into genuine concern. She reached up to cup his face gently, her hands warm against his cheeks.
"Did he do anything to you?" she asked, her eyes scanning his face quickly, as if checking for injuries. "Before I walked in-did he try to hurt you?"
Jayden blinked, caught off guard by her sudden tenderness. He'd been prepared for anger, for accusations, for her to walk away in disgust-not for her to hold his face like he was something precious.
"...No," he said honestly. "He didn't get the chance. You arrived just in time."
Jane nodded, satisfied with his answer. She dropped her hands to his shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze.
"Good," she said firmly, her protective edge returning for just a moment. "Thankfully I arrived in time. I won't let anyone hurt you, Jayden. Not while I'm around."
She took his hand again-this time more gently, her fingers lacing through his as she started walking toward the elevator.
"Don't worry," she added, her voice softening once more. "I won't let him do anything to you. I'll make sure he stays away from you from now on."
Jayden looked down at their joined hands, feeling a mix of guilt and warmth flood through him. She was protecting him-protecting the lie he'd built between them.
"...Thank you," he replied, his voice quiet.
But in his mind-
Michael... I'm sorry. Very sorry.
Because explaining this? Would only make things worse.
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9.6
In the two years after I married Daniel Carter, my private photos had gone viral nine times, and Daniel had been taken into custody ten times.
Because every time his mistress, Emily Morgan, was unhappy, she would leak my private photos all over the internet.
I, Claire Parker, never let it slide. I reported every shady business Daniel was involved in and personally sent him behind bars.
That lasted until an unexpected kidnapping. I took a bullet for him, one aimed straight at his heart, and he shielded me beneath his body, taking the brunt of the explosion for me.
After we survived, the man who had always been so cold-blooded knelt before me, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.
"Honey, let's leave the drama behind. I just want a peaceful life with you."
Right in front of me, he ordered his men to send his mistress out of Northhaven and never let her appear before him again.
In the third year after we reconciled, I carried my eight-month pregnant belly and brought him lunch.
But on the way there, I was hit by a car. The hospital issued three critical condition notices, yet they still could not save the baby.
Daniel rushed over, but he did not even spare me a glance. Instead, he pulled the woman who had hit me and her child into his arms, soothing her in a low voice.
"Don't be scared. I'll protect you and the child."
Only then did I realize that the woman who had hit me was the very mistress he had sent away three years ago.
When I demanded an explanation, Daniel brushed it off as if it were nothing. "She didn't do it on purpose. Don't take it out on her and her son. You can have a baby another time."
At that moment, I finally understood. They had gotten back together long ago.
I looked at him and nodded. "Don't worry, this will never happen again."
7.8
My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options.
That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear.
I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison.
"I needed a guarantee," he said flatly.
I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage?
I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up.
7.1
I was the top commander of a black-ops military program. After slaughtering my way through a hellish mission, I reached the extraction helicopter, trusting my second-in-command to watch my back.
But the moment our hands locked, he didn't pull me up. Instead, he plunged a syringe of lethal neurotoxin directly into my neck.
He aimed his gun at my chest, coldly stating that I was too dangerous to live. My lungs stopped, and I died in a pool of my own blood. But the endless blackness suddenly shattered. My consciousness violently forced its way into a new, broken shell. I woke up in a freezing alley, soaked in muddy rain.
This body belonged to seventeen-year-old Eliza Wyatt. A massive wave of foreign memories crashed into my brain. Her own younger sister had just stood at the top of the stairs with a mocking smile, watching street thugs beat Eliza to death.
"Take good care of the Wyatt family's eldest daughter. Tonight is the night she finally disappears."
The endless humiliation, the cold stares of her family, and the brutal betrayal by her own blood flashed before my eyes. Why was this fragile girl treated like garbage and pushed to her death by the very people who should have protected her?
I looked down at my pale, trembling hands. The top commander was dead, but in this bleeding shell, Eliza Wyatt was very much alive. I picked up a switchblade from the bloody puddle and stood up in the storm. It was time to hunt.
9.7
For three years, I was the dutiful wife of billionaire Ervin Valdez.
On our third wedding anniversary, he came home smelling of his mistress's perfume, pinned me down, and brutally mocked me.
His mistress, Sylvia, had even sent me a fake ultrasound report to force me out of the picture.
In Ervin's eyes, I was just a vicious, calculating liar who used a pregnancy to trap him into marriage.
He didn't care that I had actually lost that baby, nor did he know the trauma of my gambling father selling me to a dark club where I was assaulted by a stranger.
When I finally handed him the signed divorce papers, giving up all assets, and left the penthouse with nothing but an old suitcase, he just sneered.
"She is playing a game of hard to get. She won't last three days before she comes crying back."
He froze all my bank accounts, let his mistress humiliate me in public, and waited coldly for me to starve and beg.
He thought my entire existence relied on his wealth, completely confident that I would inevitably surrender to his control.
But he was wrong.
I calmly opened my old laptop, bypassed the complex encryptions, and looked at the dozens of unread emails from top-tier global brands begging for my return.
I resurrected my hidden identity as the legendary jewelry designer "R," and walked straight into the top design firm in Manhattan.
"It is time to find myself again."
9.2
After six brutal months, I returned to my Seattle villa, my sanctuary. An unsettling quiet, then a cloying mix of cheap vanilla and baby talc hit me. Pink slippers, a cookbook, and a blonde hair on Nathan's hoodie screamed betrayal.
Unwashed baby bottles and a note from "M" to "feed the baby" confirmed my dread. A baby's cry led me to Misty, holding a baby with Nathan's exact curls. She claimed Nathan called me his "bankrupt ex-wife," my clothes gone, wedding photos crumpled, and his loving text proved his calculated fraud.
Nathan burst in, spewing gaslighting lies, despite finding a deed transfer for *my* house. His blame—that I was a "cold work machine"—only solidified my resolve. My husband used my money, home, and trust to build a new life, systematically trying to erase me. He didn't just cheat; he tried to steal everything. A venture capitalist doesn't just walk away from a hostile takeover.
8.0
"Don't you dare touch me. You bloody monster," Eric whispered glaring at me, which only turned me on the more.
A beautiful smile crossed my lips; luckily for us, his fake mother was so focused on Katherine, she did not know I was fucking her son before her eyes.
"So I am now a monster, huh? That was not what you said yesterday. Or have you forgotten about our hot night?" I asked as I traced my way to his lap again, approaching his groin area.
He swallowed hard, his eyes roaming around. "Damien. I am Katherine's fiancé. your niece" He reminded me as my hands reached his groan, caressing it through the layers of his trousers.
"Yesterday you were Mike's boyfriend, and what did I tell you? I don't give a fuck!," I whispered back. "Now be quiet and try to control yourself" .
Eric's life is thrown upside down when his brother is killed on his coronation day, and he now has to become the king. and he can't because he is gay and he has a boyfriend who he loves dearly, or so he thought until he met Damien Monetro, his fiancée's uncle and his former one-night stand