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 28
Jayden sat behind his desk, flipping through a stack of documents with calm precision. The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, casting warm light across the polished wood and leather furniture. The office was quiet-save for the soft scratch of his pen and the gentle hum of the air conditioning-until the door creaked open without warning.
Michael slipped in, trying to move quietly despite his large frame. His head was slightly bowed, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a more serious expression as he sneaked a glance at Jayden... and immediately straightened when he caught the sharp glare directed at him.
Without a word, he pulled out a thick file he had been hiding behind his back and strode toward the desk with exaggerated confidence-though his hands trembled slightly as he set it down.
"Your wife's about to get fired," he said casually, dropping the file in front of Jayden with a soft thud. "And you're sitting here like you're reviewing flight schedules? This relaxed?"
Jayden didn't look up immediately, finishing his notes on the document before him. "What happened?"
"See for yourself."
Jayden picked up the file and began flipping through it-reports, witness statements, even doctored photos that appeared to show Jane leading Rosa and the others toward the aircraft. His expression shifted-subtle at first, a slight furrow of his brow, then firm as he recognized the inconsistencies. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head in disbelief.
"She wouldn't do this," he said flatly, setting the file down. "This report is falsified. The timestamps don't match, the witness statements contradict each other... even the photo metadata shows they were edited."
Michael raised a brow, feigning surprise. "That confident? The evidence looks solid-Bennett Lincoln personally signed off on it, and half the board is backing his version of events."
Jayden closed the file and looked straight at him, his eyes dark with resolve. "I trust Jane."
Michael clicked his tongue, studying him for a long moment. "...First time I'm seeing that look on you. The 'don't mess with what's mine' look."
Jayden's head tilted slightly, a faint crease forming between his brows. "What look?"
Michael smirked, leaning against the edge of the desk. "Only one word for it-smitten. You've gone soft for her."
Jayden rolled his eyes, turning back to his computer screen. "Ridiculous. This is about upholding standards and protecting innocent personnel."
He handed the file back to Michael, his voice growing more serious. "Investigate. Every lead. I want to know who really doctored those documents, who pressured witnesses to lie, and how far the Lincolns are willing to go to protect their own."
Michael took the file slowly, his expression shifting from teasing to serious. "I already did. It was Bennett Lincoln-he pulled strings with the IT department to alter the flight deck access logs. Paid off two maintenance workers to say they saw Jane leading the group in."
Jayden's gaze darkened slightly, his jaw tightening.
"And his son," Michael added, leaning in closer, lowering his voice. "Reuben Lincoln. Your wife's ex-though I'm guessing you already knew that part."
A pause. The air in the office grew heavy with unspoken anger.
"To protect his mistress," Michael continued, shaking his head in disgust, "he pinned everything on Jane. Even told the board she has 'emotional instability issues' from her childhood, that she can't be trusted with command."
Silence settled between them. Jayden's fingers curled into fists on the desk, knuckles white against the dark wood.
Michael exhaled heavily, pushing off the desk and walking toward the window, hands in his pockets. "She's being bullied right in front of you, Jayden. You're really not going to do anything? Let them destroy her career just because you're still hiding who you are?"
Jayden picked up a pen and began rolling it between his fingers, his expression unreadable. He was quiet for a long moment, staring at the city spread out below them.
"What's your advice?" he asked calmly.
Michael turned, his eyes flashing with his usual fire. "Simple. Break Reuben's legs-metaphorically speaking, of course. Drive the Lincolns out of Seattle, out of the airline industry entirely. That's what top CEOs do-protect what's theirs and crush anyone who stands in their way."
Jayden glanced at him, unimpressed but not entirely dismissive. "We are a lawful society, Michael. We don't solve problems with threats. We gather evidence. Submit to regulators. File formal complaints with the FAA and the Department of Transportation. Lifetime grounding for anyone involved in falsifying safety records... massive fines that will drain their personal and corporate accounts."
He paused, the pen stilling in his hand.
"That will ruin them more effectively than any physical violence ever could."
Michael turned, eyes widening slightly in surprise. "...Wow. First time you've sounded this ruthless. I always knew there was a tiger hiding under that calm exterior."
He leaned closer, peering into Jayden's face with a knowing look. "You're really falling for her, aren't you?"
Jayden said nothing, turning back to his desk and pulling up a new document on his screen. But the faint smile that touched his lips gave him away.
"Well," Michael added with a shrug, heading for the door, "our little Jane deserves it. She's one of the best pilots Aurelia has-she shouldn't have to fight battles like this alone."
The pen in Jayden's hand slammed against the desk with a sharp crack, the plastic casing splitting slightly at the impact.
"...Little Jane?" he repeated, voice low and dangerous.
Michael froze mid-step, then quickly slapped his own cheek lightly, laughing nervously. "My apologies. Slip of the tongue. Captain Harley is more than capable of handling herself-and she's certainly not 'little' in any sense of the word."
Jayden held his gaze for a moment longer... then returned to his documents, already typing out instructions for the legal team.
Three hours later
A notice stamped with the Chief Pilot's official seal was pinned to the airport's main bulletin board-large, bold, impossible to miss. Within minutes, staff began gathering around it, craning their necks to read the words printed in black and red ink.
Murmurs spread quickly through the crowd, growing louder with every passing second.
"So the cockpit incident... it was Jenny's mother?"
"Unbelievable... they had us all believing she'd lost her mind."
Two air hostesses leaned closer, reading carefully over each other's shoulders.
"She blamed Captain Harley? Fabricated evidence and everything?" one whispered, her eyes wide with shock.
"So shameless," the other replied, shaking her head.
Nearby, two first officers exchanged grim looks, their voices low but serious.
"Captain Lincoln is finished this time. The board's already voting to strip him of his title."
"Even selling his shares won't cover those fines-they're talking twenty million dollars for falsifying safety records."
"Aurelia's reputation..." one muttered, running a hand through his hair. "They've dragged everyone into investigation-"
"They deserve to be fired. Maybe even charged criminally for endangering passengers."
Jane stood among them, silent, her hands clasped calmly at her sides.
She swallowed once-then stepped forward, her voice clear and steady enough to cut through the chatter.
"Enough," she said firmly. "This changes nothing about our responsibilities. There's a flight to Denver this afternoon-we're already behind schedule preparing the aircraft. Back to work."
"Yes, Captain," they chorused, dispersing quickly, their respect for her growing even stronger now that her name had been cleared.
The crowd cleared, leaving Jane standing alone by the board. She stared at the notice for a moment longer-then turned to head for the tarmac.
And then-
Footsteps rushed in from behind, loud and frantic against the tile floor.
"Jane!"
Jenny's voice-sharp, panicked, tears streaming down her face as she pushed through the last of the crowd.
Jane turned slowly, her expression calm and distant as Jenny grabbed her arm tightly, her breath coming in uneven gasps. Reuben stood just behind her, his jaw tight, his face pale with anger and fear.
"Go explain this to them!" Jenny demanded, pointing toward the regulators' office down the corridor. "Fix this! Tell them it was all a mistake-you can still take responsibility, right?"
Jane stared at her-calm, like one would look at a child throwing a tantrum in a public place. Unmoved by the drama, unbothered by the unfair demand.
"If not for your negligence," Jenny continued frantically, her nails digging into Jane's arm, "would I have let them in? You should have stopped us! How can you blame me for this?!"
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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