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 18
The walk to Jane's family house was quieter than usual. The autumn air carried the scent of wood smoke and fallen leaves, and golden sunlight filtered through the trees lining the quiet suburban street. Jayden's steps, normally steady and confident, dragged slightly against the pavement-each footfall heavier than the last. His hands-usually composed, folded neatly at his sides-were clenched into tight fists, faint tremors running through his fingers as he tried to keep his nerves in check.
Jane noticed immediately. She'd been watching him out of the corner of her eye, her own mind racing with memories of family gatherings past-always tense, always full of judgment. She slowed her pace, turning to look at him with a soft, reassuring smile.
"Hey," she said gently, reaching for his arm and giving it a light squeeze. "Don't be nervous, okay? My family already knows we're married-They just want to meet you."
Jayden forced a small smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. The corners of his mouth lifted just enough to be polite, but the rest of his face remained tight with tension.
"I am perfectly calm," he said, his voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He'd faced severe turbulence, mechanical failures, even emergency landings-but the thought of meeting Jane's family made his hands shake.
But his gaze dropped to the ground immediately after, his eyes fixed on a crack in the sidewalk as if it held the secrets to surviving what was to come.
Jane raised a brow, seeing right through his facade... then laughed lightly, looping her arm through his and linking their elbows together.
"Sure you are," she teased, giving him a gentle tug forward. "Come on. It'll be fine. My mom's making her famous chicken curry-you'll win them over with one bite."
When they arrived, the house was already alive with voices-loud, overlapping, full of the kind of energy only family gatherings can bring. The front door stood open, inviting in the warm afternoon air, and the smell of spices, garlic, and freshly baked bread spilled out onto the porch.
The dining table was full-six relatives already seated, plates set with colorful ceramic dishes, glasses of juice and water scattered across the polished wood. Conversations flowed mid-sentence-talk of neighbors, work, upcoming weddings filling the air.
The moment Jane stepped in, a few heads turned. Her mother-Maria, with dark hair streaked with gray pulled back in a bun-stood up immediately, wiping her hands on her apron as she rushed forward to embrace her daughter.
"Mija," she said, pressing a kiss to Jane's forehead. "You're late. We were just about to start."
"Mom," Jane greeted, returning the hug before giving a small nod to the rest of the table as she took her seat at the far end. "Everyone, this is Jayden."
Jayden sat beside her, posture straight as a plumb line, his back not touching the chair as he sat at attention. His eyes scanned the room carefully-taking in each face, each expression, filing away details like a pilot mapping out a flight plan.
Then-
"Jane."
Her aunt's voice cut through the room like a knife. Rosa-Jane's mother's older sister-leaned forward slightly, her painted nails tapping against her plate as her eyes fixed on Jayden like she was evaluating merchandise. She wore a bright purple dress that clashed with the warm tones of the room, and her jewelry jangled as she moved.
"So this is your new... boyfriend?"
A pause. The question hung in the air, loaded with implication. Everyone at the table knew Jane had married-but Rosa had always been the kind of woman who chose what she wanted to believe.
Jane didn't hesitate. She picked up her fork, setting it down carefully beside her plate before meeting her aunt's gaze directly.
"He's my husband," she said calmly, her voice clear and steady. "We're married."
Silence fell like a dropped glass. Forks paused mid-air, conversations died, and all eyes turned to Jayden-some curious, some judgmental, some outright hostile.
"Married?!" her aunt exclaimed, her voice rising an octave as she sat back in her chair. She turned sharply to Jane's mother, her eyes wide with what looked like genuine shock. "Did you get the bride price? The traditional gifts? Did he ask for your blessing properly?"
Jane's mother avoided her gaze, her fingers tightening slightly around her spoon as she stirred her curry without really moving it. "We talked about it," she said quietly.
"Did he buy a house? A car?" the aunt pressed on, her tone sharp and probing as she leaned forward again, her eyes never leaving Jayden. "What does he do for a living? How will he provide for my niece?"
No answer. Jane's mother just shook her head slightly,clearly uncomfortable.
The aunt clicked her tongue, a sharp, disapproving sound that made Jane's jaw tighten.
"Oh, sis," she said, shaking her head in mock pity as she reached across the table to pat her sister's hand. "Your daughter marrying like this... so reckless. No ceremony, no proper arrangements-what will people say?"
"As long as he treats her right," Jane's mother replied firmly, finally lifting her chin and meeting her sister's eyes with a strength that surprised everyone at the table. "That's all that matters."
Jane's jaw tightened further. She said nothing-but her silence was strained, her hands clenched in her lap as she fought the urge to defend herself and Jayden.
Then-
A soft laugh cut through the tension. Jenny Burrows -Rosa's daughter, leaned closer to Jane's mother, her voice low but loud enough to carry across the table. She wore a tight red dress and too much makeup, her smile sweet but her eyes cold.
"Aunt... didn't you know?" she said, smiling widely as she looked around the table to make sure everyone was listening. "He loiters around our airport every day. Unemployed. He's basically living off Jane-using her money to pay for food and rent."
She leaned back in her chair, amused by the gasps that rippled through the table.
Jane's mother shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her face flushing with embarrassment as she glanced at Jayden-who remained perfectly still, his expression unchanged.
The aunt seized the moment, sitting up straight as she turned her full attention to Jane's mother.
"Honestly, sis," she continued, her tone turning cruel as she shook her head slowly. "You got pregnant out of wedlock. The father? Unknown. And now this-your daughter's marriage to a man with no job, no prospects..."
She shook her head in mock pity.
"You are too careless. Aren't you afraid she'll end up exploited and abandoned... just like you?"
The room went still. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Something in Jane snapped-her calm facade cracking as anger flared in her eyes.
"My affairs are none of your concern," she said, her voice cold and sharp as she stood up from her chair. "Worry about your own daughter and leave my life-and my husband-out of it."
Her aunt turned instantly, her face hardening with anger.
"Oh, please," she scoffed, patting Jenny proudly on the shoulder. "Jenny is nothing like you. She has her head on straight."
Jenny smiled sweetly, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she looked at Jane with barely concealed disdain.
"She has a successful career... and an outstanding boyfriend," her aunt continued, her voice swelling with pride as she looked around the table for approval. "Not only is he a captain-he's also an airline stakeholder. Owns shares in Aurelia itself."
She leaned back in her chair, satisfied with the impressed murmurs that ran through the table.
"I'll just sit and enjoy my retirement knowing my daughter is taken care of."
Jane let out a small, amused breath, sitting back down as a knowing smile played on her lips.
"Oh really?" she said, her voice casual as she picked up her glass of water and took a slow sip. "That's interesting."
The aunt frowned slightly, sensing a trap but not knowing where it was set.
"Because I heard," Jane continued casually, setting her glass down with a soft clink, "that she and her boyfriend were grounded for misconduct."
Jenny's smile faltered. Her face flushed bright red, and she reached for her glass of wine with a trembling hand.
Her aunt stiffened, eyes snapping toward her daughter. "Jenny?"
Jenny recovered quickly, forcing a laugh as she waved her hand dismissively. "Mom, don't listen to her," she said, her voice tight with anger. "She's just jealous I found someone better than her unemployed husband."
Then she looked at Jane, smirking as she leaned forward slightly.
"Bitter, aren't you?"
Jane didn't react. She just picked up her fork and started eating her curry, her expression calm and unreadable.
But her aunt wasn't done. She turned back to Jane's mother, her voice full of false concern.
"Honestly," she continued, shaking her head sadly, "she should've asked Jenny's boyfriend to introduce her to someone decent instead of grabbing some random man off the street. Someone with money, with connections-someone who can actually take care of her."
Her gaze slid to Jayden, her eyes cold with judgment.
"She should just get divorced now. Before she ends up with nothing."
"What?!" Jane's mother exclaimed, stunned as she looked from her sister to her daughter. "Rosa, that's enough-"
"Did you even sign a prenup?" the aunt added, now addressing Jane directly as she ignored her sister's protest. "If he's using your money now, what's going to stop him from taking everything if you split up?"
"That's right," the grandmother chimed in, finally speaking up from her seat at the head of the table. She was small and frail, but her voice carried weight in the room. "Girls shouldn't marry just for looks. If he has no money and needs to eat off you, why marry him? It's not practical."
The words hung heavy in the air-cruel, judgmental, and impossible to ignore. For a moment-
Jayden stayed still. He sat perfectly straight, his hands resting on the table as he stared at his untouched plate of food. The polite, quiet man from earlier was gone-vanished under the weight of their words.
Then slowly...
He picked up his glass of water. His movements were deliberate, measured, each motion perfectly controlled. He took a slow sip, holding the cool liquid in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.
Set it down.
Hard.
The sound echoed across the table like a gunshot, making several people jump.
All eyes turned to him.
His expression had changed. His jaw was set, his shoulders squared, and his eyes-usually calm and gentle-now burned with restrained fury. The air around him seemed to shift, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling cold and sharp.
And when he finally spoke-
His voice was low.
Controlled.
But carried a weight that silenced the entire room.
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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.